Just Dont Ask!

I'm sure many of us have asked a pretty dumbass question or 2 in our lifetimes. I know I have. One of my all time favourite dumbass questions was one I asked upon arriving in Munich last year as part of a month backpacking around Europe. I was around two thirds of the way through my trip and had got into a bit of a routine. I wanted to make the most of my time so would often dump my stuff and just head out straight away as was the case this time round. Having dropped my bags in my dorm room I headed out, seeing the lass at the reception I thought to ask her "So where's good to go out?". In itself perhaps not a dumb question. Her rather startled look upon hearing the question should have given the game away. "Umm...I hear there's a BEER FESTIVAL in town". It dawned on me sharpish and for a brief moment I wanted to be swallowed up by the floor. I found myself at the entrance of Oktoberfest about 30 minutes later.

Now here I was again. Silly question poised and at the ready, looking for the perfect moment to fire it off. Now, here in Dallas I was sensing that moment might be about to arrive.

I'd flown in from New Orleans that morning on a rather small aircraft where every turn or jolt sinks through your stomach as if questioning what the hell you're doing up in the air like this and had located my new hostel after navigating the Dallas bus network. Budget accommodation options are far from plentiful in this City. Indeed, I was in the only hostel located in Dallas. The true location of this place is about 30 minutes outside of the downtown area by way of the DART (Dallas Area Rapid Transit) with the hostel located in a suburb called South Irving.

I'd already met a couple of people that had stayed here in Dallas and had both in fact stayed right here at the hostel I was now inhabiting. It had received high praise from both concerned parties and it was clear to see why they'd said it had a nice family atmosphere - As it actually WAS the owners home - Daughter and all.


It certainly had a homely feel to it and the owner was as nice as they get and I was made to feel very much at home. The place was small though and sparsely populated even if it was the only hostel in town. The few that did roam its halls were a mixture of pure strangeness. There was the older woman, who if roommates are to be believed was amongst the loudest snorers the world had ever seen, there was a guy who whilst quite friendly undoubtedly had something quite unsettling about him, there was a guy who never spoke and was leaving the morning after I got there and 2 Aussie girls, who were really the only normal ones around and seemed quite unsettled by everyone else. I got chatting to one of them who was spending her 2nd night on the sofa not being able to endure the aforementioned snoring any longer. It was certainly a surreal household.

It was on trying to escape this scene that I loaded my stupid question rifle ready for firing. My normal escape route out of a situation like this is to make a move to a bar. I can have a relaxing pint or 2 and hopefully get chatting to some locals or whoever is around. Its my little escapism from a deathly hostel and an oft used refuge. I hadn't seen anywhere nearby on my way into the place so figured I'd just ask where the nearest bar was. I mean, having seen the local in Boston things couldn't get any worse than that. My Stupid Question Rifle was now fully loaded and my hand was on the trigger...."Sorry, could you just tell me where the nearest bar is?" - Pow - The short had been fired. A moment or twos silence followed. An embarrassed look, an uneasy stare. "Sorry, no bars around here" came the reply. Before I had a chance to let that sink in our Hostel owner continued "Irving's a Dry County".

Oh!
Dear!
God!