Cheer Up, Austin
Trip Start Jun 19, 2010
74Trip End Sep 01, 2010
Map your own trip!
Show trip route
The day is honestly spent driving the whole time, eight hours or more from New Orleans to Austin. We pass innumerable bogs, rusted or abandoned bridges over ravines or gorges lined by swamps that extend past the eye’s capacity
From here on, through this spiky Southwestern sandbox, it’s just that serpentine strada, ever so frequently stretched out straight through the sky, and with these gaps of interest we are more frequently sleeping than not, or at least I am. One such interruption is at one of a million truck stops; it is important to note that east-Texas truck stops are home to the most obnoxiously simple music on earth, songs sung with that omnipresent cowboy twang about idiots meeting Most of us dissipate inside the shopping center, perusing all the C-class DVDs and cowboy shirts and crankshaft-inverting lippitoodles, when, having emerged from disgusting old Arby’s we find that before he could even pump the diesel, Kuntz has gotten the nozzle stuck in the bus completely. This is not something that I have seen before, and I can’t suspect that many others of us had, just the same
We get into Austin rather late and pull immediately to the house of a mutual friend, that of Andriod, named Anon while blaring through a version of “Gimme Shelter” that accidentally happened. He’s an Israeli-born, American-bred Computer Science PhD with a solid and generous head on his shoulders, and he quickly climbs up to the roof with us to look into the night while discussing the nature of the military industrial complex and the moral consequence of his occupation within it. We have difficulty in deciding to drive into town or take a taxi, and eventually Cornbread opts to take with wheel, breathing a little hot for it, not because he isn’t willing to, but because he’s tired of being the only one concerned with practical matters; he’s completely fair in this regard.
So Cornbread drives us where we need to be, which is at The Liberty, a colorful, particularly purple, adobe-esque bar with Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on TV and a big, dusty courtyard in the back. Behind the back, which is full of shirtless fat ex-cons with Hulk Hogan mustaches and High Life tallboys. We make our way back to the end of the courtyard, where a mobile food cart waits, ready to serve friend beet fries with curried mayo, fresh papaya salad (som tam), barbecued pork belly with cucumber kimchi and hoisin sauce, and my favorite, sliced tongue bun
Back at the house, we take the whole thing over and Anon is, as have been all of our hosts, completely patient and generous. We take over his entire house, sprawled all over the floor, trying to get his roommate’s fat orange cat to show us silent attention in the night; she hates us. The roommate, meanwhile, arrives later and appears to be beautiful, but also quite drunk, and she passes out almost immediately into her room.