Back to John Yarbrough's Artist PageTo the Artist's Page     Back to the Unlikely Stories home pageTo our home page
Squash (Reheated)To John Yarbrough's previous piece


The Letter

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

--Elizabeth Bishop, One Art

Christmas Eve

Dr. G. W. Gillock
Medical Arts Building
Suite 2100 1125 N.W. Springfield Ave. St. Louis, MO 63102

Dear Dr. Gillock:

I think you know me well enough to know that I would never lie to you. Please keep that fact in mind as I tell you a true but most incredible story.

As you may recall, my late wife Susan was from Fort Worth, Texas. During the 25 years we were married, she often spoke fondly of her hometown. Since Susan was an only child, and her parents passed away prior to our marriage, we never had occasion to visit Fort Worth.

After Susan's death last year, I began to feel an urge to visit her birthplace and see if any of the wonderful places she talked about were still around. I suppose I also wanted to rekindle fond memories of Susan. Last week I succumbed to the temptation and purchased a roundtrip ticket to DFW Airport.

On December 18th we landed at DFW shortly before 12:00 noon. I hailed a taxi and asked to be driven to a good hotel in Fort Worth. The driver gave me a blank look, then replied that it would not be possible to find accommodations in Fort Worth because a large convention was underway and all the hotel and motel rooms were booked. At his suggestion, I was taken to the Sterling Hotel on the LBJ Freeway in Dallas. I spent a pleasant night in a comfortable room and awoke refreshed and ready to visit Fort Worth.

I took a taxi to the Texas Bus Lines on Commerce Street in downtown Dallas. When I approached the ticket counter and requested a ticket to Fort Worth, the clerk became visibly upset. After shuffling some papers and clearing his throat, he rather curtly told me that due to a maverick strike of personnel at the Fort Worth Bus Terminal, all buses had been cancelled until further notice. When I remarked that this must be creating havoc for the conventioneers, he looked at me like he had no idea what I was talking about.

Next I went to the Lone Star Auto Rental on Richmond Avenue and attempted to rent a car to drive to Fort Worth. As soon as I disclosed my intended destination to the salesperson, he suddenly claimed that no rental units were available. Somewhat shaken by the morning's events, I returned to my hotel room and spent the day watching television. I had dinner in my room and slept fairly well that night, but I had awoke early and without an appetite.

After mulling over the prior attempts to secure transport to Fort Worth, I came up with a plan. I determined to locate another auto rental agency and not disclose my true destination. Flagging down yet another taxi in front of the hotel, I was taken to Fred Winter's Auto Rentals on E. 4th Street. After filling out an application, I was given the keys to a 3-year-old Ford sedan. My first stop was a Dendron Gas Station where I purchased a Texas road map. Unfolding the map, I saw that Fort Worth was a mere 30 miles west of Dallas on I-10. In less than an hour I would be seeing the beloved home of Susan through my own eyes.

As I drove, I planned my day in Fort Worth: The Kimbell Art Museum, The Planetarium, The Zoo, Kincaid's Hamburgers, The Bass Music Hall, and so forth.

Driving west out of Dallas, the first thing I saw was Texas Stadium in Irving. Strangely, I didn't think about football, but rather the t.v. show "Dallas," the one with J. R. and Sue Ellen. Entering Grand Prairie I saw the Lone Star Race Track and the Texas Sports Hall of Fame. Next I came to Arlington where I saw the gigantic rides at the Six Flags Amusement Park. The next city on the map was Fort Worth, Where the West Begins, home of 500,000 rodeo fans, the T.C.U. Horned Frogs, and the biggest beer joint (Billy Bob's) in the world.

I drove on west well beyond what felt like 30 miles (I had not actually checked the odometer before I left Dallas), and I still didn't see any signs saying Fort Worth City Limits. Finally I came upon a rather small town named Weatherford. I pulled out the map again and saw that Weatherford was some 60 miles west of Dallas. It is also on I-10, so I should have driven straight through Fort Worth before arriving here. How I could have missed a city of half a million people was beyond me.

I drove into Weatherford and located the Chamber of Commerce on the main drag. You can probably guess what happened next, but please bear with me. I entered and was greeted by a young lady with a big Texas smile, a smile that evaporated like summer dew as soon as I asked for directions to Fort Worth. Her uncourteous reply was that she would be unable to assist me, and she actually escorted me to the door by the arm.

Returning to the rental car, I drove back east, and the first city I came upon was Arlington. Sensing the futility of my journey, I continued on back to Dallas and my hotel room. Just as I collapsed on the bed, a knock on the door startled me.

I opened the door and a man in a brown suit was standing there displaying what appeared to be a police badge. He asked if I was they who was looking for Fort Worth. When I said that indeed I had been trying to get to Fort Worth for several days, he glanced around, then told me rather gruffly that it would be everyone's best interest if I would return to St. Louis on the next flight out of DFW.

I did go directly to DFW, but as you can see by the postmark on this letter, I am in Las Vegas. For the time being, I think I am safer staying away from North Texas and St. Louis.

The only conclusion I have reached thus far is that Fort Worth does not exist. Whether it ever existed is another question. This situation has cast doubt on everything Susan ever told me. My only request of you is that you keep this story quiet for now. You could be in grave danger for having this knowledge if the wrong people found out.

In closing I want to wish you and your family a Merry Christmas, and I would like to apologize for missing my appointment for the root canal work on December 22nd.

Sincerely,
Galen T. Miles
c/o
The Silver Slipper Hotel and Casino
1200 Las Vegas Blvd.
Las Vegas, NV 89025


To the top of this pageTo the top of this page