Keep Austin Weird

Last spring at a legal event in Vegas my husband won a drawing for a free weekend in a corner suite at Austin's swanky Intercontinental Hotel on Congress (the main drag leading to the capitol). We had one year to use it.

Then in December we learned that the firm for which he'd worked for more than a decade planned to outsource his entire department. They set Feb 29 as his last day of work. So we chose that date to cash in on our weekend away. And I'm here to tell you that it sure beat hanging at home wondering about the future.

When I told my teaching assistant/artsy friend Eva about our Austin plans, she recommended that I buy a "Keep Austin Weird" t-shirt. I laughed and asked if she made that up. (I don't get out much.) She graciously informed me that it is pretty much the slogan for which Austin is known. (And I can now say this: For good reason.)

When we scoped out events calendars for this weekend in Austin, we initially found nothing. But when we awoke Saturday morning, we looked out our 15th-floor windows and saw that the police had blocked off Congress Ave. for a parade. Then I remembered--March 2 is Texas Independence Day. I knew this because, I kid you not, for my first nine years in Texas I had the day off on March 2 because my employer celebrated it as a corporate holiday. (Other states celebrate when they joined the U.S.; Texas celebrates the day they pulled out!)

So anyway, on Saturday after a gratis room service breakfast, we wandered down and joined the folks lining the streets. The highlight of the morning for us was watching a group of seniors (and I don't mean high school or college) march while doing choreography with state-of-Texas lawn chairs. Seriously. Lawn chair routines synchronized to "Beer for My Horses." Yup. That does it. Austin is certifiably weird.

After that we wandered to the Bob Bullock Texas State History Museum--one of the coolest I've ever visited. Not only is it obviously well-funded (i.e., beautiful, state-of-the-art), but its creators also gave attention to covering more than political history. Information about women and minorities and home life and farm life and church life were weaved into the narrative rather than existing in separate or annexed additions.

Also, the museum was hosting an exhibit called "Eyewitness: American Originals from the National Archives." And highlights included seeing George Washington's handwritten report about possible bioterrorism; letters from John Adams (he had teeeeeeny enough-to-make-you-blind handwriting); excerpts from Laura Ingalls Wilder's journal; an audio recording of Jimmy Carter's comments about his conversation with the pope (we lived in D.C. at the time and remember well that visit); Mrs. Johnson's diary recording the events of the Kennedy assassination as she saw it and her interactions with Jackie at Parkland Hospital; and much more. What a fascinating sampling of historical documents.

Next we watched a movie about Texas history that made us laugh out loud. A cowboy told of throwing dynamite in a rattlesnake hole and suddenly the sky rained snakes. Duh. Adding to the drama was a sensation in the seats of something wiggling, which evoked a scream from the teens in our row. Since we're transplants (I learned Oregon history; Gary learned Virginia history), we got to fill in some gaps about why Texas has had "six flags."

Then last night we returned to the IMAX at the same museum to see U2 in concert, 3-D style. Though it was cool, I prefer 3-D when producers reserve it for movies. Why? When I go to a concert, I want a dialogue, not a monologue. That is, I want to clap and scream and let the performers "feel the love." If you do that in an IMAX theater, people in white might escort you out. (Okay, they won't, but maybe they should.)

This morning, we had a nice swim and lovely breakfast before returning for one more IMAX show, this time called "The Story of Texas." The Lone Star State is as big as England and France put together and it was, indeed, at one time its own republic. After watching the show we concluded that Texas is not only huge but Texas as a state of mind means also having the ego to match. They say everything's bigger in Texas, but I wonder--have the folks who say that actually seen the Tetons or the Colorado River? Still, especially when we get to see more of it for free, we love the place we now call home--even if (or maybe especially if) parts of it are flat-out weird.