The damp warmth hits my face as I exit the building and start my southwest walk toward downtown. I drag my bag off the cobblestone sidewalk onto the wet pavement and I’m lucky that the rain has cleared up long enough for my three-quarter mile journey ahead although it was coming down hard while I exercised.
Every day I take a slightly modified route, depending on when the lights turn green, or this week also depending on the depth and murkiness of puddles. Straight ahead is a vacant lot that I guess might eventually be another apartment building or maybe condos, and beyond that in the background are two symbols of my career: a Chase Bank branch with an old-model drive-thru, and soaring high behind it is the Wells Fargo Tower. The morning light glimmers off the latter, and with the reflection from the wet streets there is a glare but I am walking toward the downtown skyline which casts as much shade during my walk as there is direct light. There is a bit of an incline heading into downtown which feels fine after 30 minutes on the elliptical and a shower, and everyday the amount of time I’m walking takes less effort.
Next thing I know I’m crossing busy streets in the heart of Cow Town with the other busy professionals here. I pass the historic Tarrant County Courthouse, parts of it more than 150 years old and still seated at the end of Main Street where it was built a century and a half ago when I imagine it might have been the busiest street in town, horses hitched to posts while busy men, like today, took care of their banking, picked up supplies at the mercantile, or cooled off from the intolerable heat in a saloon. Today the courthouse is a busy hub, but the pedestrians might be heading there, or to the administrative building, or the county jail a couple blocks away.
The Renaissance Worthington Hotel stretches across three city blocks and is the hotel in town, more popular than the Hilton which is the only other major one about a quarter mile down the road. On my previous trips to Fort Worth, once as an employee and once as a consultant, I stayed here. On one visit I exited the lobby elevator at the same time that James Carville, the political consultant, was getting off his elevator directly across from me. Without the courage to say anything, I nodded, and he nodded back. On another trip I saw Lyle Lovett sitting in the lobby, looking like he was waiting for somebody, and again a mutual nod of acknowledgement and no words.
So I walk past, no longer having the privilege of hotel stays because technically I am an resident now and this is my home base, and so I’m walking from my apartment to save money and wondering if I’ll skip Starbucks, which I won’t, but I’m not there yet.
If I walk down Commerce then I’ll approach Barnes & Noble, and I’m glad that it’s there but haven’t visited much since my first week. Instead I’ll turn left going directly west and walk past Jamba Juice without even wanting one, and then past the radio station where somebody is being interviewed and these sloppily dressed DJ’s with resonant voices are asking the questions and not really noticing the pedestrians but still offering something out of the ordinary, at least I think.
The windows at Starbucks are clouded from the contrast between the humidity outside and the air conditioning inside, or that’s my guess. There is a line but it moves quickly, and I self-talk my way to the front of the line: you don’t need a pastry, you don’t need a pastry, and I do it anyway. I order a grande bold coffee with room for cream, and I’m happy with that, noticing the large woman ahead of me who’d ordered a mocha and I remember how much that drink probably added to my beltline all those years.
A few more blocks to go and there are fewer of us on the sidewalk because I’m beyond the main downtown area and walking toward the main branch of the Fort Worth library where I’ll stop to return Oceans 12 which I’d rented because I want to see Oceans 13. It feels like it’s going to rain, and today I’m wearing tennis shoes to work which I know looks ridiculous but I’ve learned to be ready for anything.
Every day I take a slightly modified route, depending on when the lights turn green, or this week also depending on the depth and murkiness of puddles. Straight ahead is a vacant lot that I guess might eventually be another apartment building or maybe condos, and beyond that in the background are two symbols of my career: a Chase Bank branch with an old-model drive-thru, and soaring high behind it is the Wells Fargo Tower. The morning light glimmers off the latter, and with the reflection from the wet streets there is a glare but I am walking toward the downtown skyline which casts as much shade during my walk as there is direct light. There is a bit of an incline heading into downtown which feels fine after 30 minutes on the elliptical and a shower, and everyday the amount of time I’m walking takes less effort.
Next thing I know I’m crossing busy streets in the heart of Cow Town with the other busy professionals here. I pass the historic Tarrant County Courthouse, parts of it more than 150 years old and still seated at the end of Main Street where it was built a century and a half ago when I imagine it might have been the busiest street in town, horses hitched to posts while busy men, like today, took care of their banking, picked up supplies at the mercantile, or cooled off from the intolerable heat in a saloon. Today the courthouse is a busy hub, but the pedestrians might be heading there, or to the administrative building, or the county jail a couple blocks away.
The Renaissance Worthington Hotel stretches across three city blocks and is the hotel in town, more popular than the Hilton which is the only other major one about a quarter mile down the road. On my previous trips to Fort Worth, once as an employee and once as a consultant, I stayed here. On one visit I exited the lobby elevator at the same time that James Carville, the political consultant, was getting off his elevator directly across from me. Without the courage to say anything, I nodded, and he nodded back. On another trip I saw Lyle Lovett sitting in the lobby, looking like he was waiting for somebody, and again a mutual nod of acknowledgement and no words.
So I walk past, no longer having the privilege of hotel stays because technically I am an resident now and this is my home base, and so I’m walking from my apartment to save money and wondering if I’ll skip Starbucks, which I won’t, but I’m not there yet.
If I walk down Commerce then I’ll approach Barnes & Noble, and I’m glad that it’s there but haven’t visited much since my first week. Instead I’ll turn left going directly west and walk past Jamba Juice without even wanting one, and then past the radio station where somebody is being interviewed and these sloppily dressed DJ’s with resonant voices are asking the questions and not really noticing the pedestrians but still offering something out of the ordinary, at least I think.
The windows at Starbucks are clouded from the contrast between the humidity outside and the air conditioning inside, or that’s my guess. There is a line but it moves quickly, and I self-talk my way to the front of the line: you don’t need a pastry, you don’t need a pastry, and I do it anyway. I order a grande bold coffee with room for cream, and I’m happy with that, noticing the large woman ahead of me who’d ordered a mocha and I remember how much that drink probably added to my beltline all those years.
A few more blocks to go and there are fewer of us on the sidewalk because I’m beyond the main downtown area and walking toward the main branch of the Fort Worth library where I’ll stop to return Oceans 12 which I’d rented because I want to see Oceans 13. It feels like it’s going to rain, and today I’m wearing tennis shoes to work which I know looks ridiculous but I’ve learned to be ready for anything.
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