Austin
I lived in Austin for eight years, including my university days and first job. I have fond memories of that time and my yearly visits afterward, although not in the last four years. Unfortunately, many of my friends have moved away discouraging my return but a coincidence of geography allowed this visit. This entry will be more personal and have more back story than most, mostly to remind me of my youth.
I arrived in Austin late on a Friday after a three-hour delay out of SFO. Bergstrom airport remains as I remember it, with many local restaurants and notes of music throughout. I stayed downtown with my friend Dominic from Riverbed, who unfortunately was traveling in Australia during my visit. I took the 100 airport bus downtown like a seasoned backpacker but several friends bewilderment reminded me that Texans dislike mass transit, or at least their impoverished version of it. I met Omar for a late dinner at Magnolia Cafe, one of the few all-night diners. Omar and I met in university and I enjoy our wide-reaching and esoteric discussions. A gray hat security firm offered him a job and we debated the merits, ethics, and remuneration. The latter interested me since they compensate largely on a commission basis for vulnerabilities.
Omar keeps early mornings and I had a 2 hour time zone advantage so we parted ways and I headed downtown to 6th Street, the university party area, mere blocks from Dominic’s condo. I rarely visited when I lived here but this time I enjoyed people-watching and deciphering the bar name puns. I saw a budding pick up artist reel in a catch with his best line:
him> Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!
her> What?
him> I want to talk to you.
her> *shrugs* OK.
This seemed to work as they continued to chat as I walked eastward on 6th. Why did no one teach me this power play earlier?
I continued north on Red River, the previous home to my favorite music venues, and was aghast at how the area has fallen into disrepair. Emo’s, Headhunters, and Red Eyed Fly have moved, closed, or turned over, respectively. These clubs hosted my friends’ bands back in the day, with the larger second stage at Emo’s showcasing medium-sized acts like Trail of the Dead. Unfortunately, the area has blighted with homelessness and new residents chase the fun away. I later found out that Bar Rescue unflatteringly portrayed Headhunters and its owner was a deadbeat. After a full street tour, I entered Sidewinder, née Red Eyed Fly, with its familiar two stages and a midnight show with some smaller acts. I watched The Boleys, a curious family act, and the two guitarists noodled around with some jazzy solos. Nothing special, and the guys need to lay off the wah-wah pedals, but a pleasant end to an abbreviated evening.
The next day started with a scheduling snafu which left me alone for lunch. I had brunch at Mother’s, a vegetarian restaurant I frequented but never enjoyed, which resides in Hyde Park, where I lived my last three years in Austin. Their migas exceeded expectations and a fire several years ago provided the opportunity to rebuild, improving their garden room. I continued onward to Quack’s, my second-favorite coffee shop, and home of my only sweet-tooth vice, salty oatmeal cookies. I should comment that early 2000s Austin coffee shop culture provided the backdrop for many of my experiences and friendships, and I frequented them more often than bars even after coming of age. My real destination was the journey through Hyde Park, which has resisted the upzoning that west campus has enjoyed. I lack many photos from this time in my life but my walkabout reminded me of various bike rides, book clubs, friends, and 20-something ennui.
I continued southward towards west campus and Omar interrupted my nostalgia with a hot tip on a brewery taproom opening. We headed far north to Austin Beerworks but unfortunately, fellow drinkers mobbed the place. We opted for the nearby dive C. Hunts Ice House which until recently featured a Hugh Hefner wannabe and his buxom staff. This set off an unplanned around-the-city bar crawl, including Blue Owl Brewing, Rio Rita, Uncle Billy’s, and SquareRüt Kava Bar. Blue Owl offered a variety of sours but curious sold glasses and gives away beer due to a quirk in zoning. Kava is apparently some tame almost-illegal drug which I did not partake in.
After our crazy bar crawl, Omar treated me to a loopy vegan dinner at Casa de Luz which featured fluoride propaganda, volunteer toilet cleaning, and surprisingly good food. Omar left early so I retired to Dirty Dog Bar for two punk acts including a rousing American Idiot cover and free buttons handed out by the frontman’s parents.
Beginning anew the next morning I treated myself to a run around Lady Bird Lake, née Town Lake, roughly 8 miles in length. In my salad days, I sculled the longer route between two dams but the shorter course offered most of the visuals with multiple bridges, the power plant, and narrow-gauge children’s train. This is a great area and it surprised me how much I missed having an equivalent in San Francisco — Golden Gate Park is no replacement. Also running on Austin dirt instead of San Francisco pavement was the bee’s knees! Again Dominic’s condo location proved clutch given its 1/4 mile distance from the trail head.
I headed to Trudy’s in north campus which has many fond memories for me. I spent many Friday evenings here with friends over enchiladas and beers before retiring to my apartment a few blocks away for games of Settlers of Catan. Next, I went to Spider House, my favorite coffee shop in Austin which has doubled in size, including beer taps, food trucks, and a music ballroom. I spent much of my twenties here reading the Sunday New York Times and various book club novels, abusing the $2 bottomless coffee mugs for hours. I walked back along the Drag which has transformed over the last decade, with bougie restaurants and multi-use infill but fewer zine stores and continued deterioration of Slacker landmarks. Fortunately, Jeremiah the Innocent on 21st and Guadalupe remains, and “Thai, How Are You”, the new tenants, branded based on the existing graffiti instead of destroying it. I also found a curious door frame which is the only remnant of the Travis House, a former halfway home, which was partially damaged in a fire then demolished.
I planned to watch the Super Bowl with Brandt, a former Riverbed coworker and recent Austin transplant. We had a couple Shiner Bocks, the tolerable local brew, at Texas Chili Parlor, hoping for some people watching but mostly catching up on the last seven years. Brandt gave some foolish credence to commitment devices in his youth and we shared a laugh over an expired credit card. Riverbed’s brief below book valuation motivated Brandt to explore financial misvaluations and subsequently he became a stock trader. After a few blowout football quarters, we left to find a quieter venue and bumped into a young black gentleman full of stories to share. He bloviated at length with his central thesis about how feminism ruined dating for white men although he segued into his grandmother’s wealth, features of Chicago liberalism, and fuzzy math on how much he had drunk. We continued onward to the Tiniest Bar in Texas where the last quarter and overtime surprised and upset.
Brandt keeps east coast hours due to market openings but walked me over to the Elephant Room, my favorite jazz club. The drummer of the Daniel Dufour Trio impressed me but after the first set, I rambled over to the Driskell Hotel bar. My university friends and I visited for fancy cocktails when we pretended to be adults and I bantered with a social media consultant and the bartender like a real adult.
Peak intoxication achieved and mind brains unlocked, I dropped by Elysium for 80s night where I danced to too many B-sides and an unnecessary 10-minute Take On Me mix. Around 1 AM the DJ woke up and played my request of Personal Jesus, which likely was released before many of the patrons were born. On the way home I treated myself to an Oreo death wish at Voodoo Donuts, a transplant from Portland, and not the local Gordoughs since only the former keeps 24 hours.
Worse for wear the next morning, I kept my late lunch date at Manuel’s with my friend Chris, who operates several bed and breakfasts with his wife. We traded stories about our respective businesses and Chris remarked that the restaurant we sat in and where he waited tables for several years was one of the best managed in his experience. He entertained and enlightened me with some anecdotes from dusty business books, Most Extreme Championship, and aluminum trucks. After lunch, I continued my nostalgia walk towards campus and took a shortcut through the capitol building. I chanced upon a guided tour which included both houses of the state congress, spotting a handful of representatives, editorializing about the portraits in the gallery, and architectural criticism of the building. I resumed my self-guided tour on campus and wandered past my old dorm, the new computer science building, university tower, and the turtle pond.
With the sun setting, I began my evening at the Cloak Room, an unassuming bar a stone’s throw from the Capitol. I have never visited while the government was in session due to Texas government’s limited schedule but this visit fortunately coincided. The bar was empty with a few people talking outside and it took ten minutes for the barkeep to finish her smoke and fill my glass. I had the impression that I should not be here since my attempts at conversation fell flat. A real-life politico entered and Bev warmed immediately, gossiping about various new session committee appointments. Aware of snoops they went outside and a younger aide joined me but also did not want to talk.
I went home to clean up then headed to La Condesa for dinner. This yuppie restaurant has a lot more in common with my 30s life in San Francisco than my 20s past but the masa tasted delicious! Margaret and I fell into our usual gossip about life, dating, and travel, including some salacious observations from German clubs. I enjoyed hearing about career successes and continued musical pursuits. For a nightcap, we retired to TRACE within the W hotel, another bougie addition to Austin, which featured several differently themed rooms and is arguably nicer than San Francisco’s equivalent. Having more to drink than we should but less than we planned, I walked her home to east Austin and bid our goodbyes. On my way back I spied a reinterpretation of the Austin frog graffiti. The evening not yet complete, I dropped by Antone’s for the tail end of a blues show. The club has moved several times over the last ten years but the new venue is amazing!
I began the next day with a poorly-planned run and 84 degrees of pain. Austin’s heat and humidity almost overwhelmed me and I ran three minutes slower than my earlier run! Running short on time I had a forgettable Greek lunch and headed to the LBJ Library which renovated a few years ago. The new museum streamlined the narrative, shedding much of Johnson’s early career and focusing on his presidency. His optimism and moralistic tone surprised me given the overhang from Vietnam and I wonder how our current president will portray himself. The museum covers the unfortunate transition its aftermath tastefully, including personal moments with Jackie and her children. I also like the building exterior with its brutalist architecture and it could easily pass for a Soviet factory.
I walked to Spider House again to meet Omar and enjoyed a cup of coffee in the statue garden which mysteriously lack heads. We engaged in a higgledy-piggledy discussion including the Museum of Jurassic Technology, Richard Stallman, and health care, which drew in another patron. Our new friend Steven traded emergency room stories with Omar, especially about fakers seeking drugs. The gentleman had a few too many drinks and revealed his concussive memory loss, explaining some odd behaviors. Omar and I left for dinner but not before Steven asked for my name a half dozen times and copped an uninvited feel of my rear!
Laughing it over Omar and I retreated to 313 Pizza, a nearby Detroit-style pizza parlor, and enjoyed some rectangular pies before continuing onto the Draught House, my favorite Austin bar, not to be confused with the boozy Drafthouse theater. We winded down our evening and I enjoyed another show at Antone’s by myself, featuring an older guitarist rocking so hard that he needed an oxygen mask.
I left Austin for New Orleans the next day via an indirect flight through Houston, giving me ample time to contemplate my visit. This trip was more personal than most and an opportunity to reflect on my life then and now. I often say that I enjoyed my 20s in Austin but prefer my 30s in San Francisco. Emphasizing the city misleads; Austin provided me fond memories, many opportunities, and durable friendships; instead, I should say that I enjoyed my 20s and prefer my 30s. I changed a lot after moving, in part due to career successes, healthier romances, the wisdom that age provides, and honestly resetting to tabula rasa. However, you can never go home again and despite a positive week, I am thankful for the coincidences which led me to San Francisco.
