Hometown Heartache
Have you looked around Austin lately? If you can see past all the cars (and people), you'll notice that we are now a community of transplants. I never thought that I would be unique, especially in this town, but I am! Why, you ask? I'm one of the last of the Mohicans. I'm a rare, elusive native Austinite. Yes, we do still exist, but are on the verge of extinction.
It's funny to hear residents from California or New York talk about this town like they grew up here, especially when they have been here four years or less! Do you really know about all the "weird" spots around town or on the outskirts? Do you know about places that were once thriving, but no longer exist? My guess is that you probably don't.
I remember going to a little pre-school daycare called Orange Goose. It was in an area that was considered good at the time, became "ghetto," but is now considered hip due to gentrification. I went to a private elementary school which is now God knows what, no pun intended. I was removed from AISD in eighth grade because the high school I was scheduled to attend had a really bad reputation. We uprooted and moved to a little town called Leander, before 1431, when there were no Targets or Starbucks, and the closest HEB was actually in Round Rock. I didn't know a soul in Leander, so my parents bought a smaller second house to use as a business, and we used that address so that I could go to Pflugerville. Oh, boy. If I had only known was I was putting myself through! I wanted to attend school there because my only childhood friend went there. That didn't work out so well. She decided to live with her dad and go to high school, where else? Leander! DOH!
Even though I lived and went to school in "the boonies" (or so they used to call it), I was hip to all things Austin. I remember enjoying various festivals like Spam-o-rama, Aqua Festival and the Chili Cookoffs. All of these events were either free or really cheap. Austin used to have a much more laidback vibe. During the 70s, my parents told me that they were at a concert at The Backyard, and were sitting around talking. A long-haired hippie dude came up to them, carrying a large garbage bag, and asked if they would "watch his stuff." The mysterious hippie was taking what seemed like forever. Being the curious parents that they were, they took a little peek. The garbage bag was full of weed! They decided they would just leave it right where it was. You know, my parents never told me if they partook, or if the hippie gave them a reward.
My point is that Austin was a different place. I remember going to the original Wendy's on Airport, and sharing a table with another family. If you went to a restaurant, you were not mocked by a millenial waitstaff. The servers were actually friendly and happy! When they asked, "How are y'all?", they really wanted to know. They would share stories, and really form a bond with you while you waited for your chicken fried steak.
I remember going to the 101X Festival, before they even started the ACL Festival. A ticket for an entire weekend was $20, which I thought was steep at the time. Once I was in the gates on Auditorium Shores, I was able to wander about freely, and there were not even any lines to the port o' potties. I experienced my first mosh pit, to Weezer of all bands. Unfortunately, I had no idea what was going on. I got slammed to the ground, and came up with bloody knees, but it was all good in the name of rock n' roll. I also got to hear bands like Everlast and Cypress Hill. When Cypress Hill played, there were smoke clouds of Snoop Dogg proportions. Even the APD cops were sharing joints with the band members. The drunk sluts who were flashing their boobs were not even shunned. Those were the good old days.
My favorite address I ever had was off of Barton Springs in the Bouldin Creek area. I heard the rumblings of live music at Threadgill's, but unlike the whiny trust fund kid condo dwellers, I could give a shit less. I moved into THEIR neighborhood. In the mornings, I could walk to Town Lake, and enjoy my morning run without a sea of aerodynamic baby strollers, cyclists and determined speed walkers. I saved time and money by walking to every SXSW. Sandy's was a mere block from me. What else can you ask for?! That's when the masses started moving here. Every other weekend, there was a walk to commemorate wearing pants or some other cause, and they shut down and barricaded my neighborhood streets. Getting home was like navigating my way around Atlanta. If it was ACL or SXSW weekend, forget about it! The year that ACL was a mud fest, and people were sliding around in bat shit, they parked on my street... and left their crappy Crocs! When did SXSW become so commercial anyway? During the initial years, it was confined to 6th Street, and cost $15 a night to get into the whole thing. You actually had room to breathe, and got really cool schwag, food and tons of free drinks! Fun, Fun, Fun Fest shared the same fate as ACL and SXSW. I attended the first FFF, and it was in January. I traded my beer for hot chocolate,. It was a fair trade-off for getting to see major acts like Spoon, Peaches and The Black Angels. Once again, I did not have to fight my way through the crowd, and wristbands were $15/night. SIGH.....
I have lived here most of my life, but took a short hiatus to live in Florida. Gotta' love the land of blue hairs and criminals. I have never seen a more varied collection of mullets. They do have beautiful beaches though. After I was laid off from the second job in a row in September, I considered moving to Raleigh or Carrboro in North Carolina, but I'm too sentimental. My parents still live here in Leander, and are getting older. I tried to buy a house in Austin last year. Woah! What made me think I could buy a house in an area other then Rundberg? I mean, prostitutes and gang members are cool, but I think I'll pass. I don't remember how many houses my very patient agent and I viewed, but it was a lot. In my price range, I could afford a delapidated old house with serious foundation issues, a house with a busted sewage line, complete with roaches and a urine aroma, or a cookie cutter house in the burbs. After putting seven bids on houses and losing out to cash offers
in Austin, I gave up, and decided to come back and settle in the town where the evil began: Pflugerville. I won't say that it's horrible. It's a clean, well-maintained 90s house with a lot of land, but it's just not me. My neighbor's peacock poop doesn't help either. It's still better than wasting away on the parking lots we call I-35 and Mo-Pac. Don't get me started....
