Katy, Texas
Rails, Rice & Really Big Water Slides
Think you know Texas? Think again. Just past the Houston sprawl lies Katy—a town with a haunted railroad, a cult-favorite gas station, and a story on every corner. Part history, part modern-day marvel, all brisket.
Ride shotgun with Dane D. Blaze through BBQ blowouts, ghost hunts at the MKT Depot, and a seven-story free-fall at Typhoon Texas. It’s loud, funny, and surprisingly heartfelt—like arguing about the weather over peach cobbler.
Chapter 1: An Excerpt
Katy looks harmless until it doesn’t. One minute you’re posing by a cheerful rice-mill mural; the next you’re squinting down a railway that locals swear is haunted by a punctual ghost conductor. I don’t believe in ghosts, but I do believe in good storytelling—and this town has both.
Lunch escalates into a BBQ pilgrimage that violates at least three food pyramids. A pitmaster hands me a slice of brisket with the tenderness of a baptism and the smoke ring of a miracle. Somewhere between the jalapeño sausage and the peach cobbler, I vow to make better choices, starting tomorrow.
Then there’s Typhoon Texas—seven stories of gravity therapy. I climb, I question, I commit. The trapdoor opens and I achieve temporary enlightenment at 40 mph. Later, at the MKT Depot, we hunt shadows with a borrowed EMF reader and the kind of optimism usually reserved for lottery tickets and DIY plumbing.
