We had a bit of a storm here in Dallas back in February. First it snowed, and then we got near-zero temperatures that overwhelmed the state’s power system.
Half of our apartment building lost power for 3 or 4 days. Our unit had a couple hours of power each day before plunging back into darkness for 12+ hours. Several of our neighbors were sleeping in their cars to stay warm. We also had a moment where a fire alarm forced everyone into the pitch-black hallways and outside into the cold.
Almost exactly three years after leaving Dallas to earn my Georgetown Tax LL.M. degree in Washington, D.C., I was headed back to Texas.
The pandemic triggered an exodus from the District among my social network. Despite the ubiquitous “diversity and inclusion” marketing among D.C. employers, LGBT and brown people are still the first ones to get fired when there’s economic uncertainty. Many of my friends working in politics, nonprofits, and the service industry got the chop pretty early. They abandoned their apartments and moved back to their hometowns at the beginning of the summer.
Then a larger group of people started trickling out of the District as months ticked by and leases came up for renewal. With fully-virtual office environments and most amenities shuttered, why pay a premium to live in the District?
It’s LL.M. orientation week. Last year, I was in the audience listening to alumni give study and job search advice. This year, I am on the same stage talking to a new crop of students.
I don’t get through all of my rehearsed talking-points, but I do manage to avoid saying anything stupid or outrageous. I repeatedly cautioned the students that securing a job offer from an externship is completely dumb luck on my part. But I probably sound like a lottery winner explaining that buying Powerball tickets is foolish.
My best piece of advice is: “Remember that massive book of information that the career office gave you? Actually read that and follow the instructions.”
If just one student uses that advice, then the panel was worth it.
There was a scene on a recent episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race where one of the contestants (Kameron Michaels) does extremely well in the challenge, but still prepares for the elimination lip sync just in case she is in the bottom 2 that week.
The other contestants scold Kameron for not enjoying her success, but Kameron says that she’s not the type to prematurely celebrate achievements.
While the people around me celebrated finishing tests and reaching milestones, I preoccupied myself with contingency plans.
Even when I did accomplish goals, I still ran through worst-case scenarios and planned for what would come next. Passed the bar – What if I failed the MPRE? Got a job offer – What if it’s rescinded? Finished finals – What if I failed Partnership Taxation?
It’s shortly after 3 a.m. and I’m walking across D.C. in a black suit carrying two narrow duffle bags.
I am prepared to 1) get mugged, or 2) explain to a police officer that I’m not a hitman, but rather a tax lawyer headed to the Supreme Court.
The duffle bags contain branded folded chairs from my law firm. I am on my way to a hotel to meet an associate lawyer who flew in from one of our other offices.
I make it to the hotel without getting mugged or stopped by a cop.
The associate is outside of the hotel with a woman from a competing law firm in New York. Introductions are made and we then have the most ridiculous time getting a cab – the three taxis in front of the hotel are not interested in driving us only 2 miles to court. They would rather wait for a more lucrative fare to a far flung airport.
It’s about 4 a.m. and there are already dozens of people camped out in line.
Professional line-standers in front of the Supreme Court.
The lines in front of the Supreme Court before the Wayfair v. South Dakota oral arguments.
The case that attracted this odd mix of tax lawyers, tourists, and professional line-standers is South Dakota v. Wayfair. This is the first major state and local tax (SALT) case to reach the Supreme Court in about 25 years and my SALT professors have been buzzing about the case ever since my first week at Georgetown’s tax LL.M. program.
In August, I never imagined that I would actually be present at such an important Supreme Court oral argument. (The timing at the end of the semester is terrible.) And yet here I am, in the middle of the night among new coworkers.
Every year, Georgetown and NYU’s LL.M. programs jointly host the “Tax Interview Program” (TIP) — a massive speed-interviewing event where law and accounting firms interview pre-selected candidates.
The bulk of my TIP interview invitations were from Dallas and Houston, so I had a strong feeling that I would be returning to the Texas heat in May.
But then the week before TIP, I unexpectedly received not one, but two (!!) offers in Washington D.C. — and I took one.
This move was yet another tedious experience in which I was confronted by dog hair balls, poor purchasing choices, and clothes that no longer fit.
One unexpected aspect of this move was the rain — I was leaving Ilume Park with a carload of stuff when the sky just collapsed all around me.
Here’s what it looked like in a video posted by a local weatherman:
A video of a “rain foot” over downtown Dallas.
The technical term is a “rain foot” or downburst, but it really felt like the hurricanes that I left in Miami.
I then made the great life choice of getting on the Tollway during the downpour. Several of the low points in the highway were flooded and traffic was reduced to a single lane. One guy driving a beamer attempted to blast through the flood waters and got stuck. I made it to the new apartment however.
Although the decision to move to Dallas well-informed, I am still continually surprised by this place.
Exploring downtown Dallas in summer
The crowd at the March Gay Bingo / Resource Center Event at Station 4 in Dallas.
Last night, hundreds of people gathered at the Dallas LGBT Community Center to support the Pulse Nightclub shooting victims.
All of the important local politicians spoke – the mayor, the police chief, the county judge – and tried to reassure the Dallas gay community that we are safe. The crowd then marched the length of the gayborhood from the Resource Center to the Oak Lawn monument.
Cops and cameras were everywhere.
Mourners lay flowers and candles at the Oak Lawn Pulse memorial.
Notifications lit up my cellphone like a Christmas tree this morning – a gunman killed at least 50 people at a gay nightclub in Orlando, and everyone was either sharing the news story or asking whether we lost anyone.
After confirming that our friends in Orlando were alive, we monitored the climbing death toll on our phones while walking the dogs through downtown Dallas. There were more than a dozen bicycle cops on the Katy Trail, and a few nervous security guards at Klyde Warren Park.
Later we brunched in the gayborhood while discussing escape plans for each gay club – would we climb on the roof from S4’s second floor balcony? Is there a back exit door at Havana’s? Would gay guys run to their cars and get guns? (This is Texas, after all.)
The morbid emergency planning was broken by a swarm of people who flooded the Oak Lawn bars. There were cocktails, uncomfortable laughs, and armed security guards. We were uneasy, but still out and supporting each other.
Increased police presence in Oak Lawn after the Pulse nightclub shootings.
The memorial in front of the Centrum building.
I am transferring to a bigger apartment tomorrow and the packing process is well underway.
The worst part about moving is that you are confronted with all of your choices – the dirt, the dog hair, the bad purchasing decisions.
Moving this time around is still a hassle, but not so terrible as moving from Minnesota to Texas. This is mostly because I already ditched most of my belongings, so there isn’t a ton of extra crap to throw out.
Plus, this time I’m moving 90 feet instead of 900 miles.
I celebrated last New Year’s Eve in Minnesota and now I am ending the year as an official Texan.
2015 was wonderful, but exhausting.
James Sanna and Aaron Kraemer getting married in Boston.
A bloody Mary and the New Yorker Magazine at the Washington DC airport.
Alyssa Edwards at the Dallas Gay Pride iLume block party.
Dancers at the iLume block party.
A dramatically lit mansion in Highland Park.
Fall hasn’t quite arrived in Dallas yet – everything is still green and the temperature is way too hot to wear anything but shorts.
However, it is not as if I’m really spending a significant amount of time enjoying the weather – I’m inside working for most of the weekdays, and my weekends are spent freelancing inside neighborhood cafes because it is too hot to sit outside.
Freelancing at OakLawn Coffee
A random I.T. problem knocked out my company’s web applications and email systems for most of the morning, but instead of enjoying the weather at the pool, I took some time to page through this blog.
My experience with weddings is very limited:
I was a groomsman in this wedding, so it was somewhat nerve-racking, but nothing disastrous happened.
The photographer extraordinaire taking a picture of the rings at the Pierce House!
I think people were a little amused by my (utter) ignorance about how weddings work. For example – I had never heard of a receiving line. They don’t show that in movies!
The wedding was at Pierce House, which is a historic mansion in Lincoln, MA.
The Pierce House in Lincoln, MA.
We were also really close to Lexington and Concord…so history.
I wake up at 3 a.m. and start loading my car.
My furniture is already gone, and now I just have to cram as much crap stuff as possible into my car.
I quickly realize that I can’t bring everything:
Although I already donated several carloads, I still filled an entire dumpster during this move.
I felt burdened by my possessions – the total sum of a hundred innocent trips to the store. I could have saved so much time and money if I had committed to living with less earlier. That lesson made this ordeal worth it.
By 8:30 a.m., Gunter was the only thing left in my apartment.
Gunter in my empty apartment at Lowertown Lofts in downtown St. Paul, Minnesota
I took one last look at Mears Park and then drove away from St. Paul forever.
It’s winter and I am at Lush Food Bar for brunch.
One of the guys at our table says that he wants to move to Chicago, and I mention that I will likely move too.
That’s when one of the salty guys at our booth puts down his mimosa and says:
“Shut up about moving, Dennis. We all know you hate Minnesota, but you’re not moving anywhere. If you were going to move you would have done so already.”
Well, I guess he was wrong – The move to Dallas is happening tomorrow!
I had marathon meetings with our division’s biggest client. This was the culmination of a lengty, often painful, process that involved senior directors and VPs from across the company.
For weeks my life consisted of accommodating “stakeholders”/cooks with competing interests, resulting in way too many spreadsheets and draft contracts.
This week my boss cleared me to work remotely from anywhere that I wanted. (Previously, permission was only for California.)
After much hand-wringing, research, and getting advice from all of my friends, I finally created a spreadsheet because this is how I make life decisions.
Mitchell and I are not renewing the lease for our Lowertown apartment. He may purchase a house closer to his job, and my boss approved an out-of-state move for me.
He’s keeping Hugo, and I’m taking Gunter.
Gunter the Chiweenie, who is thrilled that it is no longer freezing in Minnesota.
My company specifically cleared me to move to California because we have offices in the San Francisco Bay Area and Southern California. I also have a lot of clients in both places.
Both San Francisco and Los Angeles seem insanely expensive. Do I overpay for a closet-apartment in a trendy area, or banish myself to the suburbs?
I’ll likely have to sign a lease based on pictures – what if I end up with another nightmare building? Will I end up in a terrible situation and wish that I kept my Minnesota lifestyle?
Jack chose his “friends” primarily based on looks, so we’d inevitably end up in a large group of guys who were as bored with themselves as they were with each other.
One day we ended up at a large table at Lush with about 10 of his “friends.” The “workout routine conversation” was exhausted the night before and we weren’t allowed to talk about school or work because half of the table was under-employed.
So the group was dead silent as everyone browsed the Grindr profiles of the guys next to them.
It was sad, and awkward.
I excused myself to the restroom, where I ran into my friend Jill.
Jill: “You’re at quite the A-list table today. They are all so pretty!”
Me: “Being on the A-list is pretty fucking miserable then.”