Car trouble

After a free entry night at the very good, and huge, Dallas museum complete with live Jazz band we head to Fort Worth. This holds the old part of Dallas that has now been renovated, the Stockyards. A taste of the original cowboy, I read. We take the train and I can honestly say it's the slowest train I've ever been on, cars speed past with ease. This shouldn't be so. It appears that on the train we're surrounded by people who've just got out of prison and can't wait to get their drink 'on' before seeing their kids in the 'projects'. I can't help but think these are just whining idiots who want to sit on their arse and blame the government for all their wrong doings. The 'projects' they live in are fantasy lands in comparison to what we've seen. And People do talk like they're in films here, bad ones.
It's throwing it down and a gloom hangs over Fort Worth. It really shouldn't have taken over an hour on the train to get here. We walk the streets alone except for the odd guy hanging around one of the four courthouses we see. I didn't realise there would be this many black people in Texas, I thought the South was where they were hated.
The map we have is clearly aimed at the driver, unfortunately I only realise this after an hour and a half walking a very grim scenic trail along the dirty river and then beside a pavement free road. We almost give up on the Stockyards but when no buses show up we carry on to the Stockyards and eventually arrive and dive into a saloon bar sodden.
Luckily it's a decent bar and we take a stool and admire all the cowboy hats stuck to the ceiling and walls.
A rodeo would later be on in the Mexican looking building down the road but we'd have to wait 2 hours and return to the train station not totally sure if there would be a train for us.
We manage to catch the train back to Dallas with some loud-mouth kids rapping to themselves trying desperately for someone to take notice. I felt embarrassed for them.
We seem to have missed the last bus and have to resort to an overpriced taxi, not what you want to be doing on a backpackers budget. Even kids have cars here! Necessary is an understatement.
A return to the Old Monk, the great pub nearby, and an evening chatting to a few people of which one of them instantly guesses that we're from Preston. Spooky. We chat about the homeless and that a guy even asked us, 'Do you have anything in that bag for me?', that day. Of course I carry a plastic bag around all day with goodies for the homeless! Freaks. One of the women we talk to is from England but lives in Vancouver, our next destination, and remarks on the homeless problem there. We can only but see for ourselves.
It hadn't yet sunk in that we were in America, the land of a thousand films. The place we see everyday on TV. No sooner have we arrived we head North over the border to Canada.