The Disciples Of St. Darrell On A Wild Weekend

Once Mary Sue giggled to Joe, "You can't believe what this woman is saying. She's saying that no saleswoman in Dallas will wait on Fort Worth people because they come over here without hats or gloves on. Just common as can be, she said." Joe roared. He leaned down the aisle and repeated it to Cecil. Cecil roared. It gave them a theme for the weekend, and some exit lines from the stadium.

"Naw," said Cecil, "we jest gonna git our common little ol' wives and go git drunked up on thet ol' beer."

"Good Lord, Cecil," said Pat. "You sound country enough without talking that way."

"Hell, we jest common," Joe laughed. He looked at Cecil. "You 'bout half country, ain't you, boy?"

They were badly in need of a beer.

"It'd be gooder'n snuff," said Cecil as Pat frowned, and they walked to the parking lot.

The Friday night before the annual Texas-OU game is a night that Dallas must brace for all year long.

Even without another football game to further overcrowd the city, which considers itself a cultural oasis in a vast wilderness of oil workers' helmets and Levi's, the downtown area is declared off limits by every sane person, cultured or not. Throngs of students and fans gather in the streets, whisky bottles sail out of hotel windows, automobiles jam and collide and the sound of sirens furnishes eerie background music to the unstill night. Joe Coffman skillfully managed to commit his group to a post-SMU-game party (or pre-Texas-OU-game party) in the cultural suburbs, where the status symbols are a lawn of St. Augustine grass and a full-growing mimosa tree.

"Joe, are all of those funny people really going to be there?" Mary Sue asked as they drove out the Central Expressway.

"Honey, I got no idea. All I know is, they said come on out and they'd give a man a drink. And I know a man who really wants one."