Austin pt.5

Besides certain stores with AC, we learned there is little "chill" in Austin.

This recounting of Austin is getting pretty epic so I'll try to be more concise: The next day we got heatstroke. I kid you not, G hands down almost passed out in the street.

The morning started off simply, we Ubered over to the Rainey St area. Things are still opening so we order an espresso to go and walk the small trail along the Colorado river to  the Congress Ave Bridge. I get distracted trying to ID some scarlet birds I've never seen before while G waits for me in the shade. It's very hot today, and I'm wearing all black but that doesn't keep me from appreciating the local faun and flora. 

From a sign about the famous bats that live under the bridge for half the year.

When we hit the sidewalk overlooking the water, there's no shade in sight, just a straight trek across under the blistering sun. Halfway across, sweat flowing freely down our backs and foreheads, we regret not taking scooters. By the end of the bridge G is seeing dark spots. I give him all our water and map us to the nearest place we can refuel out of the heat. This place turns out to be a taco spot, aptly named Taco Joint, that looks like a chain but isn't. This place also happens to be very dark inside which is greatly appreciated. I grab two coconut waters from the fridge and order two tacos just to have something in our stomachs while G sits in a corner, bent over a table with his pale face in his hands. Thankfully the staff is very kind, no one rushes us on our way, and there is a free water refill station to take advantage of.

An hour later, mostly recovered, we zoom down Congress Ave on Byrd scooters, the breeze in our hair making everything a little more tolerable. We check out a few shops but struggle to find anything that we can't get back in NYC until we happen upon Tecovas, a modern cowboy boot store. We both try on a pair and G almost buys his before deciding to walk out without them. Financially, we're not in a place where a 300 dollar purchase merits no thought. I buy some shorts at Madewell which I end up returning later in Brooklyn, then we hit up the famous Allen's boot store, where we spend a couple hours browsing hundreds of boots lined up on shelves like a library. Gordon finds his ideal pair; a burnished tan cowhide with ornate detailing on the sides. As for me, despite trying on 4 different styles, including a 400 dollar pair of knee high purple ostrich skin boots, nothing sticks. Maybe I felt pressured by the 18 year old willowy blonde store clerk kindly helping me, or maybe it was that every mirror in the store was unflattering, but nothing I saw myself in made me happy. She seemed disappointed but retrospectively it was a wise choice not to get anything for myself with no way to return them after leaving Austin. We picked up a nice belt for G as well as a buckle and bolo tie for his brothers. I forgot my sunglasses in the store and when I came back someone had brought them to the cashier. People really are nice here!

Dinner was still two hours away so we went down the street to Guero's to kill time with some margaritas and some chips and salsa. Because it was happy hour, we spent less than 20 bucks with tip. Knowing how good the cost of living is here was going to make going home to 18 dollar cocktails very hard. 

Because it was late afternoon and the sun was mostly out of sight behind trees, we risked walking another 35 minutes to our dinner reservation at Odd Duck, a farm to table spot in the South Lamar neighborhood. We saw a lot of fruit on trees, peaches, pomegranates. A lot of nice houses to the west of Congress Ave. Then we came across the famous Austin mural and indulged in some touristy photos.

Our dinner at Odd Duck was awesome, definitely a spot I'd revisit. We arrived kind of sweaty and the bartender greeted us by setting mini versions of a pink slushy cocktail on the menu in front of us. After catching our breath we ordered a selection of small plates to share, all of which were gorgeously plated and creative. I think my favorite dishes were the corn "ribs" and the peach and yellowtail ceviche. To round out the meal I had a really unique dry cider called "Smell the Van" from a local place called Fairweather, made from spent gin botanicals. Before leaving we talked to the bartender for while, he was from Australia and in a band (everyone in Austin is a musician) and we left with a little card full of local recommendations for food and drink.

 

Full and tipsy, G and I ubered to a place we had passed on 6th earlier in the week called Whisler's, which had one of those huge outdoor patios common to Austin but absolutely novel to me. I chatted with an ex-cop who was surprisingly self-aware compared to his drunker companion, a younger, more hyper-masc bro unable to keep himself from a "ur mom" joke every time we he verged on feeling something. While closing out my tab I had a spirited conversation with a very avid Linkin Park fan who thought I was on the same level on him (I am not). Then we left for another bar called Kitty Cohen's, where G had played during SXSW a few years back. It had a cute but purely decorative little pool in its yard. It was here I concluded every bartender in Austin is a musician. EVERYONE in Austin is possibly a musician. That made me feel better because it's not as precious as I've come to see it in Brooklyn. (I still wouldn't date most singer-songwriters though, the narcissism comes baked in.)

Next morning we got coffee at Thunderbird, pressed the button on our incinolet toilet for the last time, and bid goodbye to our lovely Airbnb host before ubering to Juan in a Million for our final taco. I ordered the straightforward huevos rancheros whereas G foolishly ordered the Don Juan El Taco Grande only to discover it was literally the size of 5 tacos, for just $6.95 (wtf???)

G has a brave face on, but oh, did he struggle.

Around the end of our meal I received a text alert that our flight was delayed until the evening. We chose to embrace the news as an opportunity, waddling 8 minutes down the street to a coffee place I had bookmarked called Greater Goods. To no one's surprise, G almost passed out by the time we reached the door, which I blame equally on the evil noon sun AND the five tacos he had just ingested. There was a short line out the door, sucks for us but good for them, so I directed G to find a seat while I waited and ordered for the both of us. He always drinks his coffee hot and black. 

I got us both iced drinks. 

You must adapt to survive. 

On the couch he had snagged, G slowly re-inflated himself into something a little more human, clutching his plastic cup of water like a life raft. I read a collection of short stories and listened to other people talk. The coffee shop was busy; folks were working on their laptops, meeting friends and even conducting in-person interviews. After I deemed we had spent the time equivalent to the cost of two coffees, we decided to brave the heat and make for Lazarus Brewing again. No one likes a coffee shop camper, especially when space is tight. G managed to make the 12 minutes down the street and slunk into the dark interior of the bar space like a worm crawling back into the earth. We ordered ice cold beers and read.

When the time to leave finally came, we bid goodbye to the brewery and called an Uber. On our way to the airport we made small talk with our driver. During the entirety of our trip everyone was always happy to talk to us, to ask or answer our questions. The whole social experience of Austin grew my little city heart three times bigger. But was my heart always so closed off? I love meeting and talking to new people. Moving to Brooklyn from a rural village helped me nurture that desire at 18. When did I lose that joy? Was it the hours of customer service on 5th ave, the years of rent needing to be paid, or the endless repetition that dulled the novelty of something new? 

After 2 years of pandemic confinement, I was on my first trip somewhere I'd never been before. This must be why traveling is so important. Perspective. A change of scenery does wonders for the jaded mind and the weary soul. Little moments of kindness are reanimated by an unfamiliar backdrop into feelings of wonder. As driver dropped us off at our terminal, he turned to look us and said, with a sincere smile, "y'all should consider moving here." 

And I mean...yeah, what could one year hurt?