EMPTY AMERICA: Dallas/Ft. Worth

One of my major goals was to hit Bourbon St. I was curious and wanted to show the world what the pandemic has done to one of the hottest most happening streets in the world. I also wanted to get there before New Orleans became too much of a hot spot.


Now, if you’ve ever driven through Texas, you know that can be a daunting drive. Flat, not a lot of landmarks and huge.


This led me to use Dallas/Ft. Worth as a stopping off point. I know of a few fun, usually busy areas to hang out in the area (West End, Deep Ellum) but figured they’re more bouncey at night rather than day-time.


I reached out to a friend in DFW and asked “What place would be shocking to see quiet during the day?”


He lives just north of Ft. Worth and mentioned The Stockyards. If there is any place to see shut down that would be unprecedented during this time, that would be the spot. Also maybe swing through Sundance Square in Ft. Worth. It’s a restaurant and business hub in the city. Afterwards, I can come crash with him and his family, eat some lasagna and catch up.


Driving across flat west Texas’ emptiness wasn’t socking. I’ve done that drive before and, frankly, it’s a lot of vastness and nothing. Not saying it’s not beautiful, Lord knows I don’t want to upset any Texans, but it’s usually pretty sparse. Cruise control dotted with 35 mph zones in tiny rural towns with mostly shuttered Main Streets. It’s been like that for a while. Right now is nothing different.


I made it to the Stockyards and that was whole different story. Empty. All stores shuttered. 2 or 3 restaurants looking bored offering curbside service. Apparently in Texas, despite any stereotypes, boots and hats aren’t essential as all of those stores were closed. Traffic lights changed from red to green for no one. The silence was alarming, broken up only sporadically by road work going on near the rodeo.


This was something I would come to recognize: I don’t know if it’s city ordinance or money or taking advantage of empty streets and sidewalks, but most everywhere I went, construction zones were in full force. No masks, no social distancing, business as usual. The Stockyards had a full street crew and another construction crew raising a hotel behind an “OPENING SOON” sign, which was optimistic at best.


The area has a very modern western feel to it, washed out wood exteriors, horse rails, dusty plank sidewalks. Today it looked like an abandoned movie set. The only real sign of life, besides the contraction, were the neon signs that still blinked in some of the windows.


I took in the silence then made my way to Sundance Square. There were a few cars, a few pedestrians in masks, a few dog-walkers. Par for the course for most locked down areas.


There was also quite a police presence on the highways and plenty of bike patrol circling the area.


This was one of the few times I stopped and chatted with a resident. It caught my eye because he had a fold out table, bottles of wine and a number of containers stacked outside and full of what can be described as ingredients. This was the proprietor of Simply Fondue. I asked about getting a glass of wine (it was a long drive!). Then I was just curious how a fondue restaurant was making a go of it with shuttered doors.


“You can’t have wine unless you buy some food.” Fair enough.


We chatted some more from 6 feet away.


He told me that he was trying to make a little extra cash by offering curbside service. His idea was that patrons would stop by, purchase the ingredients with a recipe, then go home and make a dish with their whole family. This way parents and kids can cook together and have family bonding. He had a sweet take on it all: Maybe this pandemic is a good way for families to get closer together, spend time in the kitchen, get back to values (despite all of your friends bitching about home schooling on Facebook). He brought such a light to the times, despite having to fire his staff and close his doors, as he said “this might get us back to humanity.”


He coupled his own plan with that of a Michelin chef restaurant down the street. He said this restaurant was selling out of packaged meals every day. They’re well-known and are offering their higher priced fare at lower prices encouraging purchase. However, when they would run out of meals for the day, this chef would send everyone else to the other open restaurants in the vicinity. He would actually stay behind to redirect disappointed diners.


This was my first experience with the hope and humanity that can come in a crisis. When neighbors can and will take care of neighbors and when we, at our best, made good of a bad situation.


I then headed back to my car as the proprietor told me the bike cops are strict and handing out citations, literally stopping people on the street to check their “paperwork” to see if they have the necessary “essential employees” documents. If you didn’t have it (he showed me his) they would cite you and tell you to leave.


So I did and set my GPS for Texarkana.