This year the teams were neck and neck, and the final game was held in Dallas. I drove down from Denton with my girlfriend Carolyn to spend the evening with Dr. Martin and his family for the big game.
The Fairmont Hotel is old and snooty, so that’s where they stayed. I’m lukewarm on sports, but I was looking forward to a great meal in the hotel restaurant.
We started down in the elevator.
Everyone in the elevator, honest Texans all, were all a-jabber with excitement about the game. The elevator kept stopping at floors, adding more people going down to the restaurants, looking forward to the game.
The elevator was growing packed. Folks became quieter.
The doors opened on floor three.
A very tall brunette, very stylish in a black and white dress and rather a large hat stood at the door. Pinned to her bodice was a cardboard sign.
It said, “To HELL with Texas.”
Nobody said a word, just soberly watched her. She seemed to shake herself slightly, then stepped into the elevator, and turned to face the door.
Just as the doors closed with a soft thump, from the rear of the car, a man spoke up in a friendly voice.
“Hiya, Oakie,” he said.
