On the Road: The Shiner Trip

Last weekend we hit the road again. This time we were off to Shiner, Texas, with the Fort Worth Section of Jim’s Mercedes-Benz club. When Jim told me that a tour of the Shiner brewery was planned, I said, “Let’s go! I can check off another Texas Monthly ‘Bucket List’ item.”

Friday morning we set out on I-35 south to Waco where we were to rendezvous with the other Ft. Worth members at the Elite Circle Grill. We took the South Valley Mills Drive exit heading east and promptly found ourselves in the Twilight Zone, better known around the state as the “Waco Traffic Circle.” Before us was an enormous traffic circle with our destination on the northwest (behind us and on our left) side. Jim proceeded cautiously into the traffic circle, and we were almost completely around it when a black pickup truck nearly broadsided us. We parked and entered the restaurant, only to discover the entire wait staff wearing black t-shirts announcing: “I Survived the Circle.”

Sip a Dublin Dr. Pepper - #10 on the Bucket List

We met our tour organizer, DJ, and since Jim and I were running late, he suggested we run over to the Health Camp diner, a hamburger joint across the parking lot, to grab something to eat on the road. The Health Camp name is a joke because they only serve burgers, fries, shakes and other foods that will eventually kill you. The little diner was one of those neighborhood joints with a few tables inside and a walkup window outside. Their entire wait staff wore “I Survived the Circle” t-shirts also, and they had posters and signs proclaiming the same. We were beginning to worry about our short drive back to the highway.

We ordered our burgers to go, and while we waited, Jim noticed the sign over the pour-it-yourself soft drink fountain: we serve Dublin Dr. Pepper—made with real sugar. “‘Sip a Dublin Dr. Pepper’ is on the Bucket List,” I told Jim excitedly. Named for the Texas town whose bottling plant has produced them since 1891, the Dublin Dr. Pepper is still made with real cane sugar. Since the rest of the bottlers use the cheaper, high fructose corn syrup formula, the Dublin drink is only supposed to be sold within a 44 mile radius of Dublin. And since Waco is 90 miles to the southeast, the Health Camp diner probably had “bootleg” product.

Fearing that too much liquid would be a problem on a 170 mile drive, I told Jim I’d have a sip of his. According to Jim, the drink tasted like he remembered from his childhood when he visited his relatives in Louisiana. Perhaps my taste buds have been permanently altered by HFCS, because I thought it tasted like a cherry-flavored diet drink. The fries tasted like they were cooked after a batch of catfish, however the real Texas cheeseburgers were excellent. What’s a real Texas cheeseburger? Along with the usual—pickles, lettuce, onion, etc., it has only mustard—never ketchup. Or so I’m told.

The Best Little Town in Texas

At 1:30 the five-car caravan departed, heading down Texas Highway 77 for Shiner, home of the K. Spoetzl Brewery. After checking the map closely, I noticed that our route would take us through the German/Czech town of La Grange. This little town of 4,740, nestled alongside the Colorado River, has been immortalized in music, film and on stage. Broadway and movie buffs may remember the musical comedy from the 70’s and 80’s about La Grange: The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. You also might be familiar with ZZ Top’s song by the same name as the town. While the musical was whimsical and broadminded on the subject of prostitution, the ZZ Top song is rather dark. The town itself was clean and picturesque, and the greeting on the sign at the edge of town welcomed us to La Grange, “The Best Little Town in Texas.”

In Shiner, we stayed at the Old Kasper House, a lovely old bed and breakfast. Our son, Robert, drove from Austin to meet us for dinner at Robert’s Steakhouse (no connection) in the nearby town of Flatonia. The restaurant was packed, and our waitress was a lovely, sweet girl, who never stopped smiling while serving our party of twelve. However at the end of our mostly lackluster dinner, our bills were padded and almost everyone in the group was charged for something they didn’t order. We thought maybe that was in lieu of adding an extra 15 to 18 percent gratuity for a large group. Whatever the reason, I’d drive through Flatonia and find a restaurant in another town next time.

After dinner Robert drove back to Shiner with us. Since he was heading back to Austin the next morning, before the brewery tour was scheduled, we stopped at the Shiner Restaurant and Bar so he could sample a Shiner on tap. The tavern side of the bar and restaurant had a beautiful, stately old, early twentieth century polished wood and beveled mirror bar, like the kind in the old, big city taverns in Chicago. Andy, the proprietor and barkeep, was a walking book of knowledge on the historic town, the brewery, and the area. It was a nice, quiet finish to a long day of driving for all three of us.

Next: Morning at the brewery and afternoon at Confession in Little Bohemia.

Donna

Not My Hero; But I Did Laugh

When I began this post last night, I wrote: “Over 45,000 people ‘like’ Steven Slater on Facebook.” As of 7:45 this morning, that number is over 100,000 fans. In case you live in a vacuum, Steven Slater is the JetBlue flight attendant who quit his job Monday—and quite dramatically, at that. After an unpleasant encounter with a passenger, Slater opened an aircraft door, inflated the emergency evacuation slide, grabbed a beer, and exited down the slide. My first reaction when I heard about it on the radio was: “Well, he did what every one of us would have liked to do at one time or another in our careers as flight attendants.

I’m going out on a wing here and betting that a majority of those 100,000 fans are flight attendants, past or present. And while most flight attendants may have fantasized about popping a slide, grabbing a beer, and blowing the big aluminum tube, thankfully, we are, for the most part, a stable group of people.

“Move ‘em on, hit ‘em up, Rawhide.” Tiomkin and Washington

Last week I was in Detroit and trying to catch a flight back to Dallas/Ft. Worth. After about an hour’s drive in morning rush-hour traffic, my brother dropped me off at the airport on the departure level, and I entered the terminal building. It was a mob scene inside. There were people lined up for the automated check-in machines and dozens of people working their way like a conga line through stanchions and velvet ropes to speak to a live ticket agent.

Then it was off to the security line. Nearly 50 people were in line ahead of me and there were only two x-ray machines with working crews. For the next half-hour we did “clutch and go’s:” pick up, push, or drag your bag…inch ahead a little…move bag…move feet…move bag…move feet. You get the picture, right? All the while a morbidly obese, uniformed TSA agent was weaving back and forth in front of the crowd, shouting orders about security procedures. It was dehumanizing and nerve wracking.

Sardines in a tin.

My flight to DFW was on an MD-80 airplane with the five across, two-seat/three-seat configuration. The overhead bins were jam-packed full, and as we used to say, there was a butt in every seat and a face in every window. Does any of this sound glamorous, exciting, or even remotely pleasant? No. So, imagine being locked in an aluminum tube for a few hours with 140 paying customers who have just been treated like cattle and feel as defensive as I did.

Something happens to some people when they are cooped up in an airplane, surrounded by strangers. Their language may become shockingly vulgar, they may become physically abusive, and they often reject any kind of authority—especially from a woman or a gay man. Most flight attendants accept that the stress of getting to the airport, getting through security, and being stuffed into a crowded airplane in combination with delays, service cutbacks, and too much alcohol many times, triggers the bad behavior. But believe me, there have always been people who behave badly on a plane—long before 9/11 and today’s challenges.

It’s not only on airplanes that people behave badly. A policeman I know once had a woman deliberately drive her car into him when he gave her a traffic direction she didn’t want to follow. He said she was lucky he didn’t shoot her. Flight attendants don’t have weapons, except for their wits and their training. Since 9/11, they have not been able to rely on the pilots to come out of the cockpit and help if things get out of control in the cabin. On the other hand, since 9/11, more and more passengers are more than willing to jump into a fray and help defuse a bad situation.

Flight Attendants don’t make the rules, but they’re dying to.

Most altercations between passengers and crews on the airplane happen because of a “rules violation,” and flight attendants can seem like “rules Nazi’s” at times. Turning off cell phones, stowing luggage, fastening seatbelts, staying in seats, and smoking in lavatories, are a few of the issues that make problems for cabin crews. It is said the rules of aviation are written in blood, and all of the rules about these issues have been written in someone’s blood. If you think that sounds a little overstated, I assure you it’s not. Aircraft accident investigations have revealed that these seemingly small issues have caused loss of life.

I’m not a fan of Steven Slater and his behavior. I like to think that I held it together pretty well for forty years, with some minor exceptions. I’ve been shoved, verbally abused, and insulted by the very customers whose lives I was expected to save in an emergency. I’ve been permanently injured doing my job. And yes, I have fantasized about opening a door, inflating the slide, and zipping off the job, but I’m one to worry about consequences. Our real heroes are the flight attendants of US Airways Flight 1549 and others whose professionalism and bravery saved the lives of their passengers and coworkers. What Steven did was irresponsible, but give us this moment to relish in our umm. . . .folk hero?

Donna