Everything really is bigger in Texas. The sky. The hamburgers. And of course, the oversized tourist cowboy hats found in gas stations.
I sat in a bar located not far from the Dallas airport. There were several tourists wearing ten gallon hats that were roughly the size of traffic cones. I talked to them, they were visiting Dallas for a conference. They were from places like Pittsburgh, Buffalo, and the man wearing the tallest hat was from Yokohama, Japan.
When they exited the bar, the guys all walked out, single file, hats grazing the door jamb, designer tennis shoes squeaking on the floor like the senior basketball lineup.
“God love’em,” said the lady bartender, stifling a laugh. “Texas has that effect on people.”
It’s true. Texas does something to your brain. It makes you feel like you are a little bigger than you are. When you’re here, you get high on Texanism.
Maybe it’s the low air quality.
At least that’s what my cab driver thought. “Texas is the largest emitter of carbon dioxide in the United States,” my cab driver said, doing 90 mph while keeping one finger on the wheel.
“If we were a country, we’d be the eighth-largest emitter of pollutants in the world.”
Well, what does he know? Maybe the air isn’t exactly pristine, but I remind him that Texas can’t be as bad as, say, Los Angeles.
“Yes it can,” he replies. “Texas ranks first among all states for total toxic pollutants released to air, land and water.”
Okay, fine. So I asked the driver why he still lived in Texas if this state has so many environmental drawbacks.
He smiled. “Dude, this is the greatest state on earth. There ain’t nowhere better than Texas.”
And that’s the general attitude of Texas. You will hear locals complain about it, but they gripe using the same tone you’d use to complain about your little brother.
They do it with love.
Which is wholly different from how the rest of the nation complains about stuff. Especially during these angry times, when each day Americans leave millions of bad reviews on Amazon for products including ramen noodle soup.
I live in Alabama, for example. I overhear hordes of residents complain about Alabama. The difference is, some Alabamians actually get mad enough to leave the state.
Alabama has lost upwards of 100,000 residents annually for the last few years. That’s not to say Texas isn’t losing people, they are. But they’re also gaining new ones. About 400,000 people move to Texas every year. They come in throngs. They just love this place.
Take the maintenance guy in my hotel in Nacogdoches.
“Man, I moved here from Kansas. Texas just feels good.”
“When I got here, I lived in Fort Worth and I couldn’t believe how expensive everything was. Gasoline is 20 cents higher per gallon than the national average, our groceries cost more, and my home insurance is ridiculous.”
I asked whether he liked it here.
“You kidding?” he said, clasping his belt buckle with both hands. “This is Texas.” Then he spit into a Doctor Pepper bottle.
The waitress in the barbecue joint in Jefferson, Texas, said pretty much the same thing. She was mid-twenties. Lots of tats. Pink boots.
“I’m a fifth generation Texan. It’s changed a lot. And it sucks sometimes because Texas can’t quit shooting themselves in the foot. My grandfather’s farm got bulldozed to build a Walmart. That hurt.”
So I asked why she stays in Texas.
“Well,” she said with a grin, “as Texans we believe that if you live a righteous life, if you treat your fellow humans with kindness, if you love your neighbor, when you die you’ll go to Texas.”
Then I bought a hat at the gas station.