12 posts tagged “austin”
So, two Novembers ago, I was down in Texas for Thanksgiving. Craig, my SIL Kris and their then-onliest-child Sydney and I went to the Austin Zoo.
Now, bear in mind, I was accustomed to the Washington, D.C. zoo, and the Bronx Zoo. They were enormous metropolitan monstrosities with attendance to match, particularly when the pandas were out and about. The Austin zoo is barely near Austin itself -- and it's down a dusty set of streets that end on Rawhide Road, where you are in fact at a zoo.
They even have signs warning you what not to do with the monkeys, and what penalties you will suffer if you interfere with the monkeys (click on photo on right to get the full extent of the fine print). Lions, apparently, are fine with the cell phones.
They also have peacocks, which run loose and screech.
Anyway, today I (and possibly thousands of other Flickr users, who knows) had a photo selected from my Austin Zoo trip (of that there peacock) to appear in this tourist type interactive map guide called Schmap. No compensation, but it's still kind of a neat thing. Personally, I think the photos of my niece were far cuter, but I guess they wanted actual residents of the zoo for the map.
I tell you, I could let this Austin thing grow on me. Seriously: The story I've got coming out in Well Told Tales in December takes place in Austin (ish), and now the photo. Maybe someone's trying to send me a message....
At left, the latest in the continuing selection of "Two Heads Together" photos.
This is what happens: SXSW is such a huge, overwhelming event with so much going on at all hours that the idea of blogging it is just insane. Some people appear to have more than 24 hours in a day, but not me. And then I get home and go to another three-day conference (hello, Lunacon) and there's even more to write about and then I get home finally and rest up and then I can't imagine writing it all up and reliving everything.
So, a few highlights:
- Interviewing Mr. Harlan Ellison (pictured) and his great documentary film director Erik Nelson (the film is "Dreams With Sharp Teeth" at the Driskill Hotel, in the bar mezzanine area. And having some tourists wander in during the chat and Harlan immediately snapping their heads off and ordering them to get the fuck out. (All SXSW interviews located here; click on "Festivals" tab.)
- Running into the filmmakers of "Second Skin," a documentary about folks who play way too much World of Warcraft and Everquest and end up meeting the loves of their lives by doing so, over and over again, until we kept joking that we were mutually stalking one another
- Stubb's! Ribs! Then, getting a call to do a breaking story just as my lemonade arrives and writing up the story at the table while the ribs cooled and getting 'cue sauce on my mouse
- Having a long chat with the affable and talented Jonathan Coulton, who agreeably played the delightful "Shop Vac" at my request during his show later that evening (go download his stuff; he's hilarious and amazing and writes songs about zombies sometimes)
- Becoming deeply irrtated at the frustrating debut feature "Yeast" and yet still finding that that was the most emotion a film has dredged up in me in years
- Winning a 250 gig hard drive storage device (two years in a row of getting a prize after putting my business card in a glass vase!)
- Interviewing the filmmakers and comedian who put together "Super High Me" in a glass-enclosed structure on the SXSW trade show floor. As soon as they started talking about smoking doobage, we got quite a crowd.
- Later getting a tipoff from the publicist that one thing they'd talked about was actually news that we could now report in the issue, and writing up the story on a table outside the press room (which stupidly closed at 6pm)
- Trying to find parking in downtown during SXSW Film/Interactive: Possible. Trying to find parking downtown during SXSW Music, with half of the streets blocked off: Forget it. So I didn't see any music bands.
- Sitting in the Dell Lounge with Morgan Spurlock to discuss "Where in the World is Osama Bin Laden" and trying to ignore the fresh carpet Dell had laid down, which smelled like cat pee
- Lunacon: Just repeatedly running into fun and interesting people who tended to wear Utilikilts, watching little girls squee at seeing Doctor Who memorabilia (including a Tardis ice bucket), giggling over the enormous Tribble in the costume contest, slowly broiling in the hot tub and getting out-walked by a speed-hobbling demon on crutches all weekend. Oh, and there were panels in which one moderator kept saying "apo-clyptic," instead of "apocalyptic." And birthday cake!
So what have you been doing the last week or so?
Then there was ham and turkey breast and stuffing and corn (with a whole stick of butter!) and gravy and cranberry and pickles and rolls and mashed potatoes and green bean casserole and I think that's the whole schmear but I could have forgotten something.
And there were mournful dogs on the floor begging for scraps and there were two children one of whom watched TV and one of whom looked at us solemnly with her ear infection and sniffly nose and ate mashed potatoes for the first time.
Then there was rest of a kind.
Then there was sleepytime for children.
Then there was "Grey's Anatomy."
Then there was Dutch apple pie and ice cream. And green tea chocolates.
Then there was contented happiness before driving home.
And that was Thanksgiving this year, in Austin, TX.
Tonight, there are leftovers. So we do it all again in about 45 minutes.
Hope yours was as delightful and tasty and everything else special, that nothing broke and everything that was consumed stayed down and that you have leftovers.
And that you have as much fun as my almost-year-old niece Natalie did when we turned her upside down and shook her for quarters.
Brokeback celeb, first class w/ iPod.
Post Flight Update: In case you're wondering who you should be looking at, it's the blond dude with the little pony tail in first class. Only person in first class. The flight attendant came over to my seat later (the one next to me had goopy stuff on it and she was affixing a "do not occupy" label to it) and said, "You know who that is in first class?" And I said yup.
"I feel bad for him. He asked if we served food."
I said he could have my chips I'd brought onboard if he wanted. She demurred.
Silly celebrity. Trix are served on actual real flights, not doofy small jets to Texas towns. Methinks he's here to start work on "Tree of Life," which has Austin a location on IMDb.
Made it home. House intact. Losses: One Tupperware container, easily replaced.
I am the Queen of Packing, I have to say: In one medium-sized rolly cart, one smallish backpack and a handled-paper sack I managed to transport all of my clothes and living materials for five days, plus a sleeping bag and sleeping bag pad, some specialty items I bought cheap at Costcos and half-price Easter Candy. I did not have to check any baggage. I pretty much had to sit on everything to get it to zip closed, but it all held out. So hurrah to me, and hurrah to Timberland rolly-cart/backpack combos, which do the job and then some.
Delta also managed to get us aloft on time and in the gate by the expected landing schedule, so they also get a gold star for doing their job. For once. On the way to the plane Mom said, "Well, at least the weather's okay, so you should be able to take off on time." Since we've had security scares and spilled gas all over the tarmac that delayed/canceled me before, good weather clearly is a guarantee of nothing.
That said, Delta does have interesting people flying. The return flight from SXSW in early March was super-delayed, but I knew we were on the way solid once a limo pulled up outside the parked plane and Someone Important got on. We all boarded shortly thereafter, filing past Gov. Rick Perry. Yes, he flies in first class, but hey, it's a commercial airliner, so I give him some credit for that.
Today -- though I didn't realize it until we were nearly there and he made a Blackberry call introducing himself -- I sat next to Someone Else Important. I'd seen him in the terminal and thought he was familiar, but I had no idea where from and besides, I was concentrating on the interesting-looking musicians carrying guitars (unidentifiable, the guitars or the musicians). So my future seatmate was in the terminal wearing thin white gloves and thought, "Well, that's either a guy with germ issues or a crossing guard who forgot to take off all of the uniform." Turned out he wore them to keep the ink from his New York Times from getting on his fingers. Which is both practical and dorky, but I respect a guy who's prepared. He read the paper and worked on his laptop the whole time (the latter while listening to an iPod through Bose headphones, occasionally conducting at what I assume were the good parts). Anyway, he was very nice as a seatmate. Once I found out he was Barry Scheck, I got all pissed at myself for not trying to find that out earlier. Not that I have a lot to talk about when it comes to The Innocence Project, but cheez, I'd like to have at least told him to keep up the good work. (He needs to get as many karmic brownie points as possible after the whole O.J. thing.) But opportunity didn't arise and then we were in the terminal and the chance was lost.
So, Delta does keep the interesting folks shuttled. I, however, will opt out for now: It's Jet Blue next time for me, baby.
On the one hand ....
Stubb's was closed.
On the other ....
Rudy's was not.
So....
I had ribs. Yay! Burp!
On the one hand ...
I dreamed about a young Michael Caine, and we made plans for a dinner date.
On the other hand ...
He didn't make it into the real world, so, no ribs for him.
On the one hand ....
My mother stewed all night and after I came back from working out blasted me and her hubby for "touching her stuff" last night (while we packed it away so the furniture could get rearranged). Though she was present for the entire experience, she said we were "sneaky" about it.
On the other ....
I yelled right back. Then was told not to be "fresh." So I told her I was old enough to yell back and if she didn't like it, I'd stay at my brother's tonight. She got over things, more or less pronto, and we went shopping. For more "things" which can't be touched without permission, and maybe not even then. (This store was awesome, and it's nice to go to one of those places with someone who finds The Last Supper After Dinner Mints a funny novelty, rather than something seen in 100 other shops already.)
On the one hand ....
I bought half price Easter Candy: Chocolate Marshmallow delights! (In a match between Russell Stover and Hershey, RS wins, because its shell-to-marshmallow texture ratio is pleasingly complementary.)
On the other....
I didn't buy enough half price marshmallow delights. Woe is me!
Still, overall, a good day.
Still trying to process much of the weekend. Still down in Austin. Are we done yet?
For years I've heard of friends talk about their crazy families and how they drive them crazy even though they still (in theory) love one another, and how glad they are to get back home. I've always been sympathetic, if not entirely empathetic, because at root I've usually had some comfort derived from a Good Visit Home.
However, I'm feeling that less and less since the whole Texas uprooting. And this has nothing to do with Texas or Austin itself. It has to do with a balance being shifted. And since we're still in the wobble between balancing acts, I don't think it's fair to come to any real conclusions. Only that this is the first real visit I've had to the family where all things being equal, I'd rather have been in Philadelphia. Or New York.
There are many pluses to being down here. My brother sets a lovely dinner table for nine guests -- including four children, two neighbors, their relatives and us -- and is actually an excellent cook (though next year he could dial back the pepper in the soup). My SIL and I get along well even if I don't feel I know her very well; generally she's open to ideas and I love that she loves music. And watching my nieces grow (Syd in particular) is fun, even when they're cranky and throwing themselves on the floor at the PetSmart because we didn't buy them (okay, Syd, since Nat is too young to do anything other than eat, sleep and expectorate) a horse action figure. Side note: Horse Love has hit Syd already, and she's just over three. An ad for a horse trading card set came on TV last night and she was mesmerized. When it ended she said the horses made her sad. And yet she was delighted. It was interesting to see that horse love manifest, because I knew exactly what she meant.
So there's that. But my mother is a different story; she's just all over the place emotionally, not settling in well here, and not doing much about it. She says over and over how depressed she is, and when you say "well, maybe you should see someone," she just kind of nods and later on you hear how depressed she is again. And she's becoming more and more inflexible -- and more like her mother in her later years. Tonight after a furniture-moving incident that she didn't intervene on but which had her pissed at us for not asking first, I felt a weird sensation akin to when I was younger and I knew I was in trouble but I wouldn't know what for. But she doesn't yell now because we're too old for that, she just gets surly and quiet and sits on the couch and doesn't say anything except to oy and vey and say how this makes her more depressed.
On top of all of this, my local friends in Maryland, who I could always see when I went home for a visit, and whose presence balanced whatever stresses were going on at my mom's, are no longer visit-able from Austin.
This is not fun. And it's not fun to come home to. And while family life is never fun all over, it should be some of the time. Things I do as a matter of course seem to annoy her -- like, say, using the computer instead of watching hours of TV -- and things she does like she's always done -- like asking me where I'm going every time I leave the room for 30 seconds -- annoy me no end. Her volatility is unpleasant, her moodiness unbearable. I'm not sure where this is all going, but it's not going to get better until it gets worse, and that really doesn't feel like a place I feel like going right now. Plus, there's a limited amount I can do to make a 60+year old woman do what she doesn't want to do from a thousand-odd miles away.
So, a surprise in the messing with of Texas. As it turns out, I don't mind Austin so much at all. But suddenly, I'm not all that into the reason I came down here in the first place.
I won't be back until Thanksgiving. And I wish I could leave in the morning.
Well, after last night's airport debacle, I finally made it to Austin. At 1:30 in the morning. From a flight scheulded (originally) to leave at 6:55. The craziness went like this:
1) Huge unmoving line at Terminal 3 security. Why? We think -- we think -- two guys rushed the security gates. And they couldn't catch them. Solution: Shut down the terminal, then later, take more drastic steps.
2) 45 minutes after I arrived, Delta personnel have a powwow and one woman sallies into the group to randomly tell people that if they have a "connection flight" and "no checked luggage" they can go to Terminal 2. I assess that "connection flight" doesn't mean you're connecting from one flight to the other, and that this subset of the diagram includes me, so I race like a refugee down a ramp and up another with a few hundred other people to Terminal 2 (which is also Delta and connects to Terminal 3).
3) Stand in line. A long line. A very long line. Woman in front of me going to Berlin, behind me to Indianapolis. No sight of a Delta employee coming down the line to explain anything (and indeed, none ever comes). I realize the security situation is not Delta's fault. But how they handled it was -- and for the most part, they handled it crappily. To wit:
4) Another 45 minutes in the line that moves, we're still only about halfway there. Announcement on loudspeaker: "Will all passengers in Terminal 3 please leave the terminal. Delta agents will be waiting at the exits." All passengers? Including the ones waiting for planes? Including the ones waiting for my plane which is leaving from that terminal? No one says, no one knows. Suddenly, Terminal 2 gets a lot more crowded.
4) Mom -- who I've been cell phoning all this time -- says the flight I'm on is now boarding at 7:10. If it does, and if that boarding takes 20 minutes, I might still make it. I'm anxious now. I get through security, and once I do there are no signs as to how to get back to Terminal 2 without leaving the building. One lone agent tells me nothing's leaving from that terminal, which has been completely evacuated. I decide to get as close to Terminal 2 as possible, so I know when they're letting us in.
5) I happen to walk by Gate 20, which has my flight information. The plane has "just arrived." I'm safe. We're meant to board at 7:30.
6) We board at 8. There's almost no one to get on.
7) We wait until the plane is nearly full and leave the gate around 9:15. And we're 13th in line to take off.
And so that is how you end up landing in Austin at 1:30 am local time.
I slept in.
Stuck at Jfk ... Delta blows!
Update: A 6:45 pm flight to Austin boards ... around 7. Sits on tarmac. Diesel spills everywhere. Cleanup crews with whirly orange lights are called. Cleanup begins. We de-board (never a good sign) around 7:30. We sit. And we sit. And we sit. And around 9:30, the news comes:
Cancelled.
With nothing that's not standby until Sunday. Sunday!
So I get to do it all over again next Thursday. At least I got a free cab voucher home (gratuity not included).
In the words of Bart Simpson, I did not know something could both suck and blow at the same time. Hello, Delta.
In honor of my impending trip back to Austin -- twice in a month is some kind of record for me, of a visit to any state, much less Texas -- I am taking up my good buddy and all over wise woman Lynda's request and writing a blog entry about something I like about Texas (as opposed to messing with it, which is my usual raison d'etre). Here it is.
There are two kinds of sauces, but I prefer the original recipe. Smokey Mesquite didn't do much for me.
Yee ha!
So you know where I'm having dinner over the weekend, in case you need to find me. That and the Alamo Draft House, where the milkshakes will blow your head off. It was nasty, having to pick up pieces of brain from my seat when I left. C'est la vie.
And yes, I appreciate the contradictions of going to Texas for Passover and eating pork. Thank you very much.
Night, y'all!
