Fort Worth Weekly
It didn’t have to be this bad.
They were down to their last two bottles of booze: champagne.
Photo by Anthony Mariani
It was the middle of the night, so we weren’t too worried about losing power. Again. It had gone out at least twice a year since my wife and I moved into our North Fort Worth house, and it’s usually back long before we two and the 9-year-old need to relocate most of the food in our fridge to a cooler. It’s never usually a biggie, just inconvenient and ridiculous — I grew up in the snowy Rust Belt up north, and in my 20 years there, I think we lost power twice. Don’t hold it against me for referring to my adopted home state as a third-world country once or twice. Or every other power outage.