I’m driving north out of Dallas on the tollway, moving fast, as Jimmy Buffet sings a love song “from a slightly different point of view” on the car stereo (“I really do appreciate the fact you’re sittin’ here…”). Past the Galleria Mall, with its red-spangled Christmas decorations crackling so bright they threaten to burn a hole in the night, never mind that it’s not yet Thanksgiving.

I’ve just turned 40 years old. It was a tougher birthday than most, and I want to be alone. So I’m headed for a sports bar called Humperdinks to watch Manny Pacquiao go toe-to-toe with Manuel Márquez for the WBO Welterweight Championship of the World …

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