We travel to Oklahoma city via Fort Worth, a former cowboy town that still has a cattle drive twice a day for the tourists. Everything in the stock yard district is cute, wooden, and cowboy-y. Oklahoma city is, like Manchester, a place that has benefitted greatly from having the shit blown out of it. They have a nice downtown area and a really cool old district called Brick Town. We go there for dinner/drinks. We find a brewery where they sell their own brews for 1.75 a pint, dollars, we contemplate staying there all night but instead decide to see more of brick town. We make it 10 yards across the road and into 'The Spaghetti Warehouse'.
After copious amounts of spaghetti and lots of cheap beer 'refills' we stumble out to look at the second rate Oklahoma baseball team's first rate stadium. They also have a big statue dedicated to a bloke who never actually played for oklahoma but did do ok for the Yankees. Afterwards the girls went on a water taxi and we went to Hooters.
Hooters is weird, its a little bit uncomfortable, the girls whilst amply supplied in the chest department are not similarly endowed in the cranial. They seem to be required to chat to us for a certain amount of time per ten minutes, the conversation is as far from scintillating as Dubai is from Dukinfield. 'Our' Hooters Girl is named Carebear. She says,
"Hi my name is Carebear and I'll be your Hooters Girls this evening"
After some more of Carebear and Krysta's chat the girls arrive back from their ride and very quickly make their feelings known about not only this Hooters, but also the Hooters Hotel Casino and the undemocratic way that it was selected as accommodation for our trip. Cue first 5 way argument of the trip. Tomo sulks for most of the night after this.
When we leave Hooters we go 3 doors down to a club called Sky Bar, deciding not to partake of the pleasures available in the Coyote Ugly Bar next door after seeing the calibre of performer from the door outside. Rope-a-licious. We drink lots then go home.
Next day we drive back in to dear old texas. To Amarillo, to the Big Texan Steakhouse, a fantastically kitsch, tacky masterpiece where everyone wears a stetson and there is a designated horse hotel and Dawwgie Corral. We all eat steaks and two behemoths manage the full 72oz steak challenge as we watch on embarrassedly over our piddling 24oz-ers. We also get a chance to swim in a Texas-shaped pool and take pictures of an 8 foot tall plastic cow on the back of a trailer.
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