A Quick Valentine

by Jay Nordlinger

I arrived at the Dallas airport yesterday and headed to the taxi line. The man in charge was an older fellow — white hair. He said, “Would you like a bottle of water?” Somewhat startled, I said, “Sure.” He reached into a cooler and handed me a bottle of water. I was about to ask, “How much?” but then remembered that I was in an unusual part of the country, and world. I kept quiet. Or rather, I just said, “Thank you.”

The man put my suitcase in a taxi’s trunk. I handed him a tip. He said, “No, no, we’re not allowed to take that.”

I have been a fair number of places over the years — and I bet I could count refusals of a tip on one hand.

“Texas” is an epithet all around the world, because anti-Americans concentrate their fire on Texas in particular. When I say “anti-Americans,” I mean people of all nationalities, including Americans. (Americans are the worst and most insufferable anti-Americans, as I’ve written many times.) The hatred of George W. Bush increased an anti-Texas feeling, of course.

There is something I tell people who think they don’t like Texas: Just go there. That’ll cure you. Texas is distinctively hospitable, and the food, girls, etc., cannot be surpassed (though they can be matched).

Within Texas, Dallas is known as snobby, materialistic, and fake. I get that. But by world standards: Dallas is wonderful, warm, and genuine.

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