BBQ gas station cockfight and the new Velvet Elvis

Right down the road from my house, I’ve discover the greatest paradox of current day Americana. A couple of things I am always looking for while engaging in my coyote exploits are a clean restroom and good food suggestions for a tourist. When these two things converge, you know you’ve arrived.

When people are visiting the area, I’m always asked about the best BBQ or Mexican food. Most people want the razzle dazzle, so I’ll send them that way. There is no point to waiting in line for BBQ with so many options. This is Texas, the range between good and great BBQ is narrow. Either way, all of it is going to be better than the bullshit that they pass off in your home town. Also do not come to Texas and go to a Taco Bell or In and Out Burger. In and Out is not even a Texas thing, WTF. And Whataburger is right there. It’s always right there.

Well Kevin, I went to Whataburger in Arizona once and I was not that impressed.

No shit jackass, it’s in Arizona.

I can get a White Castle slider here, but it’s not even close to the glorious greasy gut bomb I get when I travel in the Midwest.

Back to answer the question, you can get good BBQ and tacos in gas stations. For real, this is not some microwaved burrito bullshit. Legit brisket and street tacos. The way it should be. Delicious and cheap.

I have stopped at Texas Best before due to proximity, but this day, it hit harder. As you walk to the restroom you pass through a gallery of paintings for sale. Gas station art gallery of sorts. This day, one caught my eye.

It was a couple of cowboy skeletons holding roosters preparing for a cockfight. Gloriously kitschy and then I noticed another one that I was equally drawn to. I knew I needed to get The Shauna involved.

As one does, I left the gas station to drive home and pick up my wife to visit a gas station for art. Would she agree that it belonged in the gallery? On my way out the door, the aroma of smoked meats hit me right in the stomach. With the realization that I have yet to try this gas station BBQ, I made an executive decision. Why not. Tonight, is the night. We return with the mission of buying BBQ and art.

I found it funny that she was timid to follow me into a gas station restroom so I could show her this glorious cock. She balked at heading into the dude’s room like it was some kind of public art gallery. It did not matter. She was quickly engrossed with the menagerie of artwork. We quickly came to the same conclusion that it belonged in better quarters than a hallway to the shitter. And therefore it was ordained.

We get a three meat pate to go. Ribs, pulled pork, sliced brisket, green bean casserole and fried okra. More than enough for the both of us. Sliced up and packed right in front of us by a couple of heavy handed dudes, generous with the meat and throwing down spicy BBQ sauce. Perfection. I make my way back through cowboy hats and other tchotchkes to the gallery to take down the art. I paused to notice, that written on the back of it was made in Mexico.

It was right above a Trump assassination painting along with other paintings of Elvis and Dia del Muerto faces. I proceed to check out and grab a blackberry fried pie for good measure. I think to myself, what the fuck is going on?

Is this Trump picture the new velvet Elvis?. Another King in the minds of his loyal followers? Only to be reduced to cheap art made in Tijuana. To be sold to rednecks by immigrants they are actively trying to eradicate.