I have a ferocious sweet tooth. I purposely don’t keep snacks, candy or any other diabetes-inducing substance in my apartment. If I am going to indulge my sweet tooth I am going to have to earn it, and no I don’t mean play find the girl with the lowest self-esteem on Tinder. I force myself to get up, put clothes on and walk to CVS at the bottom of my building.
Dallas has a deceptively safe downtown. I love the place with all my heart, but downtown Houston looks like a post-apocalyptic urban revival. At night you feel like you’re seconds away from being robbed in Houston, even if there’s no one around. It’s just a bigger, dirtier, more sinister looking downtown. Downtown Dallas on the other hand, looks like street sweepers come through every hour on the hour spraying the city down with Febreze and Fabuloso.
But don’t let the Lululemon-laced bombshells walking their dogs at 11:30pm on a Tuesday fool you: one wrong turn, one wrong step and you’re face-to-face with someone who spent the last three years in prison with nothing to lose.
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