top of page

Not So Trivial Pursuit

Okay, I’m still on our visit to Fort Worth on Tuesday. Hey. I never claimed I wasn’t verbose. Or, if I did, then it was in a ten-volume dissertation. It’s the kind of guy I am.

Anyway, we had decided to go back downtown and have a drink. What we didn’t know was where. I had looked up a couple of places that seemed promising, and Martha had, too. In fact, according to something she’d read, there was a whole district full of cool cafes and bars and such, somewhere along West 7th.

Well, okay, and so we popped in the car and went on our merry way along West 7th.

We went. And we went. And we went. And we…er…went…

And we finally arrived in the middle of …ah… nowhere, actually. In fact we discovered we were on a freeway headed toward Dallas. Or maybe it was Dubuque. Or Dubai. Or someplace.

Anyway, we finally got turned around and headed back toward the city. I Googled 7th later on. Turns out there is a big shopping district there. Very trendy, I gather. And just a few blocks from our hotel. And someday, when I have world enough and time, I’ll figure out how the heck I managed to not only miss it, but nearly end up in another city, state, and ZIP code. Clearly something magical happened. It probably involved pentagrams and small furry animals sacrificed to a full moon. But that’s a story for another day.

We ended up back near Sundance Square. We found a parking space (not easy in Fort Worth) and then Martha and I walked (she used just her cane!) to a bar and grill that was fairly close by. I will not identify it, because what happened wasn’t really their fault…and, who knows? We might want to go back here someday. And you never want to p*ss off bartenders who may put something icky in your Gin and Tonic. Something with legs. Or slime. Or whatever. (You know that worm they’re supposed to have in some bottles of tequila? I don’t want one.)

But, in any case, we headed to this particular place that we’d both seen on the web. It’s quite famous and apparently very big with the younger crowd. After a walk that was longer than I’d thought it would be, we got to the pub. It was actually quite large, covering nearly a block, with an outside consisting of a number of tables under an awning, and an inside with still more tables and counters.

Martha In The Sun

We elected to go inside because it was fairly cold outside. This was a problem because, rather to our surprise (it was a Tuesday night, for heaven’s sake) it was quite crowded. There were no tables available and the only seats we could find were high stools along the walls. For a moment, I thought we’d have to leave because I wasn’t sure Martha could even get up and onto the stool. But, she gritted her teeth and managed to do it somehow.

Then we discovered it was loud. I mean, very loud. Everyone around us seemed to be having a bit more to drink than was, perhaps, wise for them. Also, they were rather young. Not real young, but definitely youngish--say, in their twenties and thirties. And they mostly looked like white-collar professionals. The table behind us, for instance, was occupied entirely by lawyers who were (again, quite loudly) discussing strategy for an upcoming court session. It seemed their client was going to plead not guilty by reason of gross stupidity. Hey. Who am I to judge? Might work.

Martha When She Catches Me With A Camera

And then, service was very slow. Our waitress, who was suffering silently, was serving both our end of the bar, plus a number of tables outside. She was not a happy camper, to say the least, and each time the lawyers (two men and two women) bellowed out an order, she’d give ‘em a glance that…if looks could kill…would have left ‘em splattered on the sidewalk.

She took our order. Martha had a Cranberry Margarita and I had an Old Fashioned, and for a snack we ordered a hummus plate. She brought us glasses of water and warned, as she left, that “things might take a while.”

It did. Half an hour later, we were still waiting for our food. I was wondering if we could go someplace else…assuming we could find another venue…but that would have meant Martha would have had to walk at least back to the car, and maybe beyond that as well. I began to get quite worried. What had I gotten us into?

Just then, the food appeared. Shortly after that, the waitress brought our drinks. But…

She placed them on the counter in front of us, leaned forward, and whispered, “I’m so sorry…”


And just then, a loudspeaker crackled into life, and a Master of Ceremonies announced to the assembled masses there in the bar…

“Welcome to Trivia Night.”

At which point, I said, “Oh, Christ,” and wondered whether Martha would kill me now, or wait until after we returned to the hotel…

Not that I could blame her either way.

More to come.


About the photos: Once again, I’m playing fast and loose with the photography here. These two pictures are actually from Friday, April 21, 2022, when we went to the Stockyard District. I attach them here because I like them, and because the second one is very close to the expression I see on Martha any time she catches me taking her picture :-)


Care to help out?

I provide these blog postings for free. That’s fine and I’m happy to do so. But, long ago and far away, I was told that if you give away your material, that means you don’t really think it has any value.

So, to get beyond that, I’ve decided to make it possible for you to leave me a “tip” for my posts.

If you like what I write or the videos I produce, and feel you could make a small contribution to support my efforts, please go here:

That will take you to a Gumroad page where you’ll have the option of leaving me a few pence by way of encouragement.

Again, I don’t mind if you don’t. I just want to provide you with the option so that I won’t feel quite so much like I’m just tossing my works into the wind.

Either way, thanks hugely for dropping by the blog :-)


Copyright©2022 Michael Jay Tucker

#StampOutEnnui #StompOnEnnuiLikeItWasABug #ForthWorth #SundanceSquare #MichaelJayTucker #MarthaTucker #Xcargo

8 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All
bottom of page