Friday, August 1, 2014

Trapped Under the Dome in Grapevine, Texas

We just got back from a trip to Grapevine, Texas. My wife had a conference to attend there. I tagged along. I'd like to consider myself "arm-candy," but "arm-moss" is probably more appropriate.

Anyway, we stayed at an incredibly luxurious and excessive resort called the "Gaylord." At first it was awe-inspiring, mind-blowing. That didn't last long. After our initial night, a certain disconnect settled in. I felt removed from reality and the outside world.

The building was huge, a sprawling "biosphere" complete with man-made ponds, gardens, the whole nine yards. Hotel rooms surrounded the fake outdoors beneath the elaborately structured dome. Buildings sat within the Mother of all buildings, a sort of adult Disney World. At times I was actually fooled into believing I was outside. But I soon realized I was trapped. I felt as squirrelly as one of those characters on the TV show, "Under the Dome."

And the Gaylord resort seemed designed to trap people, a nefarious ploy to make prisoners spend money. It's set within a giant compound, two miles from the nearest road. Walking anywhere in Texas heat was out of the question. And parking was seventeen bucks a day (unless you wanted valet parking, then you're looking at 25 dollars). So you're stuck with the Gaylord's restaurants. You want a burger? Twenty bucks. A Coke (excuse me, only Pepsi products)? Five bucks. How about a lame cold-cut sandwich? Nine dollars (toss in an extra five for chips). You want fast internet? It'll cost you. And if you dare to venture outside of the prison, the exclusive Gaylord shuttle service is gonna' set you back.

The worst part? The constant country music piped in wherever you go, no doubt subliminal messages ("SPEND, SPEND, SPEND") slipped in between honky-tonk refrains. Yee-Haw! Strap on your boots, open your wallets and live in artificial decadence! Ugh. 

When my wife and I finally escaped for downtown Grapevine, it was a welcome respite. I felt like Patrick McGoohan in "The Prisoner," having finally broken away. But downtown encapsulated Texas at its finest: friendly folks, a shrine dedicated to a funeral home, antique stores, brick buildings, dry winds, and pick-'em up trucks. Not to mention the best dog-gone seafood dive in the world. Regretfully, we trudged back for one final evening at the prison compound.

I have seen the future and it is the Gaylord. A totally self-contained world full of survivalists surviving on Pepsi products and room service. The future scares me.

8 comments:

  1. Welcome back, Stuart. We went to a place like that in the Bahamas. Though it looks great from the outside, once you're in, you can never leave....

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Kansas has never looked so good, Suzanne. But now I'm suspect if the sky above is real, my yard truly natural...maybe this is a flashback from the fallout when I blew up the alien eggs in my backyard.

      Delete
  2. I've staying at a place like that (more like been trapped at one), and ended up surviving off of the oatmeal I picked up at a local store and the coffee maker in my room for hot water. Fun times. I hope the trip was okay otherwise! :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It is surreal, isn't it, Meradeth? And here's the strangest thing...you'd think if you have to drop seventy-five bucks on a meal, the waiters would at least pretend to be nice. I mean, come on, everyone knows Texans are friendly. Not the Gaylordians (and alien species unto their own). We had the most contemptuous waiter, probably because he knew we were at his mercy. When he first saddled up table-side, he said nothing. Apparently the onus was on us to begin our interaction. Every time I said something, he responded with an incredulous "What?" like I put him out or something. Then we got into a fight over whether or not I received corn (as opposed to flour) tortillas. He fought me tooth and nail and tortilla. When he snagged our dishes away from us--without asking if we were finished--a knife dropped down in front of me, ready to jab an eye out. Not an apology...NOT a good tip forthcoming. Didn't matter. We'd pay for it in other ways. Toilet paper costs extra.

      Delete
  3. We have a place like that near us, El Gouna. It's a gated community with a bunch of 4 & 5-star hotels, flats, villas, golf courses, pools, restaurants, cafes, stores, a small hospital, a school, and acres of landscaped perfectly maintained grounds. Oh, and did I mention the 200 boat marina with all the huge multi-million-dollar yachts? One of my friends doesn't like it, says it's "phoney" and not like real Egypt. If I had the money, I'd absolutely live there. ;)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Be careful what you wish for, Lexa! I refer you to "The Stepford Wives." Honestly, one day at that resort was uber-cool. The rest of my tenure? Not so much. And your eyeball icon still freaks me out. Just sayin'.

      Delete
  4. I have a hard time with excess like that. Like you mentioned, it seems appealing at first, but then you think about all the hungry kids that could be fed with the money used to build the totally unnecessary indoor ponds and start to wish you could hand your five dollars to one of those hungry kids instead of spend it on a bag of chips. It is just so over the top.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm totally with you, Kai. All of that extravagant decadence...(shakes head)...we could feed a starving country with all of the expense. A five dollar bag of chips? In my mathematically challenged brain, that equals a couple of cheap meals. Super-sized.

      Delete