Austin, TX

Still drunk off the sights and smells of New Orleans (mostly the smells), we barreled out of Louisiana and into the Lone Star State. You know--the big one with the guns and the hats. 

They say a belly full of gas station fried chicken is enough to put a fella into a year long coma, but even that couldn't dampen our spirits once we reached Austin, a city with all the trappings of a coastal utopia, but with a sturdy backbone of cowboys and brisket. 

We spent our first night on Sixth Street (aka the Dirty Sixth, or Bourbon Street Lite), a frightening place lined with pastel shorts and dip spit. The night took an unfriendly turn when our resident pool shark, Alex, was bounced from a billiards room; he was simply too good! Red with envy, the rest of the bar demanded he be kicked out! Yep, that's what happened, everyone. And that's all we'll say about that story...

The next day was the Fourth, and what better place to spend our nation's birthday than in a state that routinely attempts to secede from the Union? We sought our own getaway at Hippie Hollow, a nude beach and apparent magnet for Austin's 65+ population. Who knew that skin could fold that way? The riverside fireworks show and the ultra-chic bars on Rainey Street were stunning, but neither hold a candle to the annual Independence Day Fair outside of F.A Day Middle School. 

On our third day, we let our inner twelve-year-olds run wild. We hit the links at Peter Pan mini-golf (low score went to Alex), met a national champion ski baller at the Full Circle ski ball bar (the closest thing Austin has to professional sports), and hopped around to some Blink 182 at a pop-punk bar (not really our thing, but who doesn't like "All the Small Things?"). 

Sometimes you have to embrace your inner kid, and other times you have to prove you're an adult by eating an absurd amount of BBQ. This, at least, is what being an adult means to me. Pork ribs, sausage, spicy slaw, mac n cheese, fried okra, a container of banana pudding that I carried around all night and ended up eating at 1 AM: we got all of this and more at Stiles Switch, just one of the many famous smokehouses Austin has to offer. 

As we headed south towards the border, it was not without a tinge of remorse. We were going to miss this hipster oasis, with its micro-breweries and loose dress code. Here's to Austin: where everybody ignores state politics and nobody acts their age!