The Flying Fish

hmmm...what to say about this neon-lovin' place in Preston Square, just west of the Metro Diner, just east of the wig supply shop. Well, i have to show proper appreciation to the place that reminds me of why I haven't run screaming from Texas yet: hushpuppies and catfish. In fact, just getting a "meow mix" combo of food that is all so deeply fried as to be uniform in color makes me want to stick around just a little longer.
But, first things first. This restaurant is one of I think two in the greater Dallas area and was created by the son of the guy who started Six Flags Over Texas, the amusement park, but I didn't learn all that history until after the hushpuppy fact, so it's not necessary for me to debrief you on all of this. The Flying Fish is set in two dining rooms, separated by a screen door. The front dining room has no windows, just open space, attempting (I think) to give it a waterfront or pier-esque feeling. Unfortunately, these charming open spaces offer a view of the majestic Luther Lane parking complex, which is home to much less marine life, but surprisingly smells just as fishy. But it was a really nice attempt at making me feel coastal once more. Rather than being served at the table, one must stand in line to order food, which saves money on tip, but doesn't save time. However, one more bonus: if the line is long, this really tall guy who I'm not sure is actually employed by the restaurant will give you free hushpuppies. mmmmm. how I love food named after baby animals. Plus, the decor is definitely something at which to marvel. Adjacent to the line is the fishermen's hall of fame wall, with pictures of fishermen and all their vital stats, their turn-ons, their turn-offs (I'm not sure of the proper pluralization of that; if you are in a position to advise, please do), and the photos are oddly stuck to the wall with notebook paper reinforcers, which finally gives those things a function in modern times, so that's cool.
The front dining room is home to the world's first Billy Bass Adoption Center, meaning that lame-o's can give their singing fish to the establishment and be rewarded with a free meal. However, the rest of us are punished for this act by having to listen to those damn fish for an entire meal, as children are invariably seated next to the adoption wall and are invariably looking for a good ass-whoopin'.
One caveat: There were several typos and misspellings located all over the restaurant, as though the restauranteurs were in such a hurry to serve catfish to the masses that they thought they would just overlook the rules and intricacies of the English language. Did they not anticipate that they would one day cater to the Professor, with her high standards of quality and almost maniacal urges to proofread? What the hell? Anyway, the misspelling of the word "piece" was understandable; who can remember that whole "i before e" thing in a pinch (besides me). But "chiken"? Please. Your goddamn menu deserves a little more respect than that. On my next visit, I'm getting a magic marker and adding a ^ and a 'c' to that shit. I think we'll all feel a little more comfortable after that.