Austin is Weirder Than Me

Okay, I know. I never thought it possible, either. But they like to promote themselves as weird. So my first thought was, “Okay. I can get next to that.”

I used to think Austin was cool. I didn’t know it first hand, but only admired the image from afar. It was actually more the “idea” of coolness. The music scene. The blues. Austin City Limits. Willie Nelson. Blah, blah, blah..

But the last couple times we’ve visited, we’ve tried to catch some of the vibe. All I wanted to do was see a guitar player in a restaurant so I could “experience Austin”. But we didn’t plan well, it was crowded, we ran out of time, and it didn’t happen.

So this week, vacationing an hour south of the Texas capital, we once more made the trek to see just how cool Austin really is.

Before I continue, a disclaimer. It’s not their fault. They’re just too big. I tried looking up “live music in Austin”. There were one billion listings. Then my lap top blew up. It was all night life, and it’s just not in our wheelhouse.

But we finally found a venue with lunch time live music. It said 12:30 – 2:30. We planned for it, googled it, and found it. We put $1.75 in the parking meter. We got there at 1:30, but to our disappointment, people were leaving. Did we miss it? We went in anyway. “Is there another band coming on?” The guy looked at me incredulously. “Smh. Uh, no”.

Oh.

Cast down but not destroyed, we walked further on down the road. We saw what looked like a Mexican restaurant. Okay. Maybe or maybe not a live band, but Mexican food in Austin? Cool! But alas, the windows were boarded up. Nothing but a cruel Austinian mirage.

Continuing down the scooter-riding millennial-filled road, we walked into another establishment. Heavy sigh. The menu was way pricey for the limited items offered. But it was cool inside, so we lingered just long enough before we could legally be accused of loitering.

It was just so stinkin’ hot, so we cashed in the remaining hour and fifteen minutes left on our parking meter and got back in the car to look for something closer to town. We saw a place on line among the multitudes of eateries called “The Blue Cafe”. That sounded fun. And we found it! We pulled up to the curb, with great anticipation. But upon closer observation, it turns out it’s “The Blue Cafe OYSTER BAR”. Oh. My. Gosh. I didn’t know my gag reflex could kick in so quickly.

Strike three.

At this point I was completely crestfallen, and abandoned all efforts to drive this train any further. I willfully surrendered control to Lois. “You choose. I’m done.”

So as we continued our journey of futility (now under new direction), through downtown Austin, she spotted a Newk’s. “Yes! Let’s just go there. We know what to expect, we like Newk’s, and it’s right here.” Sold. We whipped into a nearby $10 parking garage, ready to finally have a familiar, modestly priced, air conditioned lunch. Live music be scorned.

We walked up to the door and found a sign that read like a death sentence: “Closed on Saturday and Sunday.”

Stunned. Really? This was turning into a sci-fi flick. Seemingly out of nowhere, I could actually hear ominous minor key music. It was eery.

Onward we trudged in the 95 degree downtown weird Austin heat, which was seeming less and less cool all the time. We spotted a small diner that was conveniently located, reasonably priced, and dog gone it, it was open. We walked up to the counter and saw several kinds of pizza prominently featured on the overhead menu. Pizza sounded fantastic. So we ordered the Margherita. We were so excited.

“I’m sorry, our ovens are out. We’re not serving pizzas today.”

“You’re serious.”

“Um. Okay. I guess I’ll just have the gluten-free steak and cheese half sandwich.”

“I’m sorry, you can only get the steak and cheese in a whole sandwich if it’s gluten-free.”

Now I’m looking for hidden cameras. “So… you can’t just cut it in half?”

“Smh. Uh, no.”

I wept openly. Then:

“Fine. Give me the big one. I’m on vacation. And tell you what. Get a little something for yourself.”

So Lois had a salad, and I had the big sandwich, with no gluten, no pizza, and no guitar player. By this time it had become a hilarious comedy of foul ups, bleeps, and blunders. As we recounted the events of the afternoon, we laughed at the absurdity of it all. We were enjoying each other’s company, and our well earned mediocre lunch, when Lois whispered, “Be casual about it, but look at that guy behind you.”

“Huh? Okay.” So I dropped my napkin on the floor (very cool right?), and glanced at the guy at the next table.

This man-bun wearing, ear-plug donning, tattoo covered twenty-something, actually had the nerve to be eating pizza. Right there in front of me.

And smiling.

Whaaaat? But they told me…? I thought…? How could…? They said they don’t have…? Why did they…? Oh, never mind. By now, I was literally reduced to a stammering puddle on the floor.

It’s clear. Austin’s just not working out for me. It’s just… Too… Weird. It’s not only too weird.

It’s way too cool for me.