We cruised around the LBJ turnpike in the dark and sailed through security at DFW. With some time on our hands we checked the dining kiosk for breakfast places. IHOP was a five minute walk to the other end of the terminal. Two “yes” votes and we were on our way.
A very nice hostess sat us and pointed to a QR code on the table. “Oh boy,” I thought, “Here we go again.” I scanned the code and brought up the menu. Pricey selections. But the breakfast sampler included more than enough food for the two of us. I punched in my choices, added two coffees, clicked on the shopping cart, and hoped for the best. I put in my credit card info, added a tip, and I was done.
A minute later a server arrived with a pot of coffee, two cups, and silverware. “Since you’re splitting a breakfast, I’ll bring an extra plate.” Perfect. She brought out our food a few minutes later.
I entered a skeptic, and left a believer. I don’t mind interacting with a live server. I don’t mind interacting with electronics, either. As long as each gets the job done.
I did a quick search for “Things to do with kids in Dallas.” It’s boiling hot in Texas and thunderstorms are predicted for every morning and afternoon. An indoor activity for four grandchildren would be great. What about SeaQuest in Fort Worth? Not too expensive, an hour’s drive if we leave after rush hour, and the promise of an “interactive land and sea adventure.” A four-star rating on Tripadvisor. My son, now a ten year Dallas resident had never heard of it, but there were cool pictures on the website. What the heck, let’s give it a try.
The GPS took us right to the Ridgmar Mall just west of downtown Fort Worth. When we arrived about 11:30 am, the mall parking lot was all but empty. Two dozen cars and a school bus. My wife made me walk inside to make sure we were in the right place. Inside the entrance was a single sign directing, “Seaquest: on the other side of J.C. Penney.”
“This is the place,” I reported, ” “but it’s over there.” We drove to the other side of J.C. Penney where a few more cars were parked. We all hiked in through the entrance that was primarily for the 4-d movie theaters. At the top of an escalator I saw a SeaQuest sign hanging from the ceiling, and we rode to the top.
We walked into a mall that was definitely the place to be in the 1990’s. Today, however, every store as far as we could see was empty. We walked through this modern-day ghost town in what we hoped was the right direction. Number of stores open on this top level? Zero. The only open stores in the whole mall were a Dillards Clearance department store and J.C. Penney, who was desperate for shoppers. It was eerie. No stores, no people, nothing. Setting for a horror movie? I hoped not.
I looked down one level and saw it. SeaQuest Interactive Aquarium. Okay, we’re good. We headed down the escalator and into the venue. As my wife kept an eye on the kids, I told the friendly front desk person, “Two seniors and four children.” She pecked at a touch screen and asked me, “And how many tokens would you like to buy?” Tokens? Tokens. For feeding the fish and encountering the animals. Idk. “What do you recommend?” She pointed to a card on the desk. “Either eighty or 120.” Eighty tokens was $60! And I was already in for $100 admission. “Uh, just give me fifteen.” (Ten bucks) I’ll see how it goes. I can always buy more later, right?
Okay, we’re in and walk up to the first fish tank that hadn’t been cleaned in a while. Reality check. This is not SeaWorld. This is SeaQuest in the deceased Ridgmar mall. The floor is wet where we look at a school of big fish looking at us through the glass. A little gum ball machine off to the side sells fish food for one token. Ah, now I get it. They hope I’ll go through a whole bunch of tokens.
We wander past tanks of fish, sharks, sting rays, and lobster. We see otters, tortoise, kookaburra, lizards, sugar gliders, and a capybara. And at every exhibit, there is a place to buy food to feed the animals. For one token you can get a piece of fish, a bit of lettuce, some dead grubs, or some kind of reptile kibble. This is not an eco-friendly, PETA-approved, natural habitat. This is sad, depressing, and borderline abusive. Does anyone from the state of Texas come and inspect this place?
A friendly aquarium worker, holding an animal, says, “The kinkajou encounter is $25 per person or 10 tokens.” Nice – if you are raking in the upsell money at the venue. It’s all like that. Want to sit in a cage with hundreds of parakeets? Tokens. Want to feed the lizard a bite-sized piece of lettuce? Tokens. Want to sit with your feet in a tank of dead-skin eating fish? Tokens. Want to pet the Bengal cats? Tokens. I took the youngest (two- and four-year old) while she waited with the older two (eight and six) to pet the cats. When it was their turn the aquarium worker said, “Oh, sorry, the cats are on break for an hour.” What, you guys have a union?
I felt dirty when I left. This reminds me of the chameleon cage we visited in Madagascar. Nine years ago, on a mission trip, our hosts took us to a roadside chameleon zoo. It was the size of a tiny house and home to giant chameleons who grabbed insects with their tongues on command.
This could be my side hustle. I’ll buy some aquarium tanks, fill them with saltwater fish, and sell tickets (lots of tokens!) to my “interactive aquarium.”
Outside the aquarium, we found an indoor play place the grandkids enjoyed more than the paid attraction. They all got really good ice cream at a kiosk.
Going to Fort Worth? Go see the stampede. Save your money for a steak at a nice restaurant. Skip the SeaQuest interactive aquarium experience.
One man stood out in the gate area. In a sea of jeans and polos, his tailored black suit demanded a second glance. A large gold watch, light brown, two-buckle leather shoes, and coordinated pocket square completed his outfit.
Best of all, he was wearing sunglasses. He was wearing sunglasses at night waiting at the gate for a delayed flight departure.
I know there are good reasons to wear sunglasses indoors. Some eyes are very sensitive to any light. Celebrities don’t want recognition. When you wear sunglasses, people can’t tell if you are looking at them or not. Sunglasses can make you look cool.
So what’s this guy’s story? Was he accompanying another traveler, a bodyguard of some type? He could have been a preacher. Though I never dressed up to travel, some do. Was he on his way to or home from an upscale event? Did he work for the airline in an important role? Returning home from a funeral?
A well-dressed person flying early in the morning blends right in with lots of others on their way to meetings. Tonight, though, he’s one of those things that doesn’t belong. The guy next to me was wearing red and black checked pajama pants. Lots of women in yoga pants and crop tops. Plenty of people with sleeping doughnuts around their necks. Kids with backpacks almost as large as them. And this one gentleman in a black suit.
The detail that puzzles me is the backpack. I’ve got nothing against backpacks. I travel with one. But I would have expected him to be carrying some kind of leather briefcase.
When the flight finally boarded, I made my way down the aisle past his seat. He wasn’t flying first class or even in the larger seat section. Just a middle seat. I overheard him talking to the person next to him, and he mentioned real estate, residuals, and Melbourne, Florida. Just another person on their way to work.
Many people want to be noticed and remembered. A black suit is one way to make that happen.
I flew back from my son’s house in Dallas on a discount airline into Orlando. I’ve got this figured out. My only luggage is a backpack that meets the 18 x 14 x inch size for a free carry-on bag to fit under the seat. My cheap flights stay cheap.
While waiting for my zone to board the plane, I watched with amusement as the gate agent pulled several passengers aside whose bags clearly didn’t meet the free personal item criteria. Not even close.
If challenged, a passenger must fit their bag or backpack into a metal bin with specific dimensions. Many were not even close. I believe some were twice the size of a “personal” item.
One woman who failed the challenge pulled items out of her bag and laid them on a chair. Then, zipping up her bag, she successfully got it into the bin. With patience and perseverance, the agent instructed her, “Now put all that stuff in your bag and do that again.” Nice try!
I watched the distressed faces. We’re finally boarding the plane. But they were caught red-handed. They would now have to pay through the nose for their carry-on bags. They were surrounded by signs telling them to measure their bag and pay for their bags. Size bins are everywhere. They assumed none of that applied to them.
Here’s what I find interesting. All of this is intentional. I believe the airline sets me up to spend more money. (It’s always about the money, isn’t it?) They sell me a very low fare – $38 one way – to go and visit my son. Once I pay for my ticket, the game is on. Want to check a bag? Pick your own seat? Want more leg room? Want wifi on the flight? How about snacks? Priority boarding? Each will cost you a little more money. I didn’t add them all up, but if I chose them all, I might pay more than I would for a ticket on a regular airline.
I decline them all, but then the emails come. Have I changed my mind? I can still purchase these options. But each is just a little more expensive.
When it’s time to check in, I have to wade through all the options yet one more time. Just in case I have a little extra money laying around.
I’ll bet a lot of passengers ignore most of the emails, texts, and options. Then they arrive at the airport, and they’re going to pay.
It’s a clever game. I’ve lost a few rounds. But now I know how to play. I’ve won a few hands in the game of travel.
The airport (Orlando) was packed with travelers yesterday. I left extra early, never sure what traffic will be like. I got there two hours early, didn’t check a bag, and sailed through security. Plenty of time for a cup of coffee and maybe a snack.
Starbucks line
Never mind. Eighty people were lined up at the Starbucks. I’ll just sit and read a little. I walked down to Gate 7, found a seat, and felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Gate change. Gate 84.
<Sigh.> I walked back to the tram, got back to terminal A, and discovered I needed to go to B terminal. So I had to leave the secure area and go through security a second time. Give me a break.
The security going into terminal B was jam packed. Estimated wait time: one hour. I could still make the flight. I took a deep breath, picked a line, and prepared myself to wait.
And wait I did. The lines barely moved for the next 45 minutes. TSA must have been understaffed. Only three agents were checking IDs for about 500 people in line. Beyond them only one scanner was being used.
The lady ahead of me had a flight leaving about the same time as mine. She said, “There’s no way we’re going to make it.”
I said, “I think we’ve got time. Let’s be glass half-full. We could be those folks” and I nodded towards the lines that stretched a hundred feet back.
Well, we didn’t have time. I finally got through and onto the tram with five minutes to go. I don’t know how she made out, but I made it before the door closed. I put my belt back on after I sat down, grateful to be on board.
Actually, the plane waited another half-hour for passengers because of the gate change and very slow security.
Maybe that’s what hell is like. You just keep going through security over and over and over again.
We were pretty excited when we saw short lines for bag drop at the Spirit Airlines counter at Orlando International Airport. Just before a hand went up to summon us to an open scale, I heard a man exclaim, “A hundred and ninety-nine dollars? Are you kidding me?” (Yes, he used more colorful language.) He hadn’t paid for checked bags in advance and both suitcases were over the forty pound limit. That’s not a happy way to start your journey. Clearly, he was a rookie Spirit traveler.
On our way home from Dallas, we found a few seats behind the gate desk. I overheard a man exclaim, “Ninety-nine dollars? You gotta be (add your colorful adjective here) kidding.” His carry-on bag exceeded the 18″x14″x8″ dimensions for a “personal item,” so he was going to have to pay. His wife added, “We never had a problem before.” I subtly wandered over just to see how big those carry on bags were. His backpack was about double the allowed fatness. Hers was an open, overstuffed tote bag. When he pulled out a wad of cash, the agent said, “I can only take a credit card.” His face got a little redder. His wife handed over a credit card and said, “Fine. We don’t want to be those people.”
“$99. Are you ^%$&^* kidding?”
As we waited to board the plane, I watched gate agents tell passenger after passenger to put their unpaid carry-on in the “personal item” size box. They know what’s not going to fit. It’s entertaining to watch people try to stuff huge bags into that little space. Guess what? You’re going to pay.
The gate agents who had to deal with all of that were well trained. They had awesome people skills. Good thing, because they had to deal with a lot of challenging people.
One of my new hobbies is travel hacking, figuring out how to make the most of cheap fares. I am amazed at how roomy a 17″x13″x7″ backpack can be. My wife and I both had one of those and one checked bag. Sweet.
So here’s some of what I’ve learned about traveling cheaply:
If your travel days are flexible, you’ll save money. Some days are cheaper than others. That’s just the way it is.
If you must check or carry on a large bag on Spirit or Frontier, pay for it when you book your flight. You’ll get the lowest price.
Buy a backpack or roller bag within the personal item guidelines. It will hold so much more than you think. Ladies, pack an empty purse inside your personal item and load it when you arrive.
Lay out everything you want to pack. Put half of it back in the closet and dresser. You’ll be fine. You can wear some clothes two times.
Buy your toiletries when you get to your destination. Our Airbnb had soap, shampoo, conditioner, and toothpaste in the bathroom.
Wear your jacket and hat. Put stuff in your pockets. Once you’re on the plane, stash them away. No need to take up luggage space.
This time, our flights were the cheapest part of our last trip to Dallas to see my son and his family. Next up: reign in the cost of a rental car, which is getting ridiculous.
On our return flight from Dallas (see Back in the Air), my wife and I had middle seats across the aisle from each other on American Airlines. When I asked at the gate if we could sit together, the agent said, “Sure,” and then quoted me some upgrade costs. No thank you. The direct flight to Jacksonville, FL was just a few hours. How bad could it be?
My seat was between a woman and a young man that I believe were mother and son. I wish they had sat together because the mom had a lot to say to her son, who just wanted to sleep. I brought up a book on my phone’s Kindle app and read until the drinks and pretzels reached our row.
The son asked for a Dr. Pepper. I had some ice water. The mom had a can of tomato juice which she poured over a cup of ice. For the next fifteen minutes, like clockwork, she loudly sipped and slurped her tomato juice.
<slurp>
“Look at this video on my phone. It’s so real.”
<loud slurp>
“It’s so clear.”
<louder slurp>
“Do you want one? We can up grade for free. From 11 to 13.” OK, we’re obviously in the iPhone universe. She had a new 13, he had an 11. (I have a 10, by the way.)
“No thanks.”
<even louder slurp>
“It’s free. You can trade yours in.”
“I’m fine. I don’t need one.”
<still louder slurp>
“What about your other phone? You can trade it in.”
“I’m fine.”
<really loud slurp>
“You could get four or five hundred dollars for it.”
“I don’t need the money. I’m fine.”
<loudest slurp>
“It’s four hundred dollars.”
“I don’t need the money. I’m fine.”
<longer, louder slurp>
“OK. Just let me know.”
<loudest, longest slurp>
She looked out the window. He turned toward the aisle and tried to go to sleep. She wasn’t comfortable for the rest of the flight, about thirty minutes. She pulled her legs up to her chest. She stretched out as best she Over and over and over, about every two minutes.
So they weren’t the most annoying row-mates I’ve ever had. They weren’t the friendliest, either.
As we deplaned, she walked ahead, he lagged behind. She was on a mission to get to baggage claim. He was clearly in no hurry to join her.
I hope you two enjoyed your ride together to your next destination!
When my wife and I went to Charleston, SC in September, we got down to Rainbow Row in the historic district of the city on East Bay Street. As we stopped to take pictures from across the street, we just happened to catch this young lady wearing a dress to match the colors of the row homes.
My brother looked up a few of the house values along that street. All were upwards of $2 million. But a rainbow dress on Rainbow Row? Priceless.
We got to Texas just in time to attend one of the last days of the Texas State Fair. We last went five years ago and I was itching for a little fair food.
Since it was Saturday, the fairgrounds in the heart of Dallas were only a thirty minute drive from our Airbnb in Rowlett. We picked up three of our grandchildren and headed out in a wonderful fall-feeling fifty degree morning.
We found a $20 parking spot in a convenience store lot just across the street from gate 5. Just about anyone with some blacktop was running a $20 parking business in the surrounding area. There was no line to buy 2 senior (yes, we both qualified), 2 child and one (free) toddler ticket for admission. We were already in for about $100, and we had just arrived. Going to the fair is not a cheap date.
Our first stop was a children’s aquarium, promising sharks and sting rays. (Oh, by the way, that was a separate admission price.) It was actually a nice collection of fish and sharks, and we did get to pet some baby sting rays. We also dipped our hands into a tank filled with doctor fish that gently pecked away at the dead skin on our hands.
Our seven year old, Eden, wanted to ride the huge ferris wheel, so she and my wife got in line. I bought a bunch of coupons for rides and food and gave them twenty for the ride (BTW, coupons are $1 each), while I took the other two off to grab some corn dogs. After they quickly disappeared, we headed to the cattle barns.
Inside one of the cattle barns
As with any good state fair, the livestock barns are enormous. We walked through stall after stall of beautiful cows being cleaned and prepped for showing that day. They were the best of the best. The ferris wheel riders met us at the swine barn, where we saw the best hogs from around the state. The champion boar, weighing in at 1155 pounds, was sound asleep in his pen out side the barn.
Boris, 1155 lb. champion boar
By now everyone was hungry again, so I rounded up two more corn dogs, some lemonade, a burger and an huge plate full of french fries. Fully fueled we made our way back to the birthing barns.
The birthing barns were cool. We saw several calfs born that morning as well as litters of hogs from the past few weeks of the fair. A few goats were about to give birth, too. This was a very popular and crowded venue.
Bull born that morning
From there we walked through some shopping booths, filled with lots of unique jewelry, clothing and toys. By this time, we had done a lot of walking and still needed to see Big Tex, so we made our way back towards the gate where we came in. By mid-afternoon, the fair was crowded, but we made it to the big guy. We did lots of walking, but the kids (and the grands) took it in stride.
On our way out, people continued to stream in the gates. Cancelled in 2020, this year’s fair was expecting 2.5 million visitors over twenty-four days, taking in over $65 million dollars and generating close to $500 million of business for the community. It is the biggest state fair in the country.
Just one of the grills with the biggest turkey legs I’ve ever seen
Waite for it... 