I am sitting at the picnic table at our campsite, dripping and waiting for the cooler air of the evening to set in. It's 11 p.m., though. I don't think it's going to get any cooler.
We left San Antonio earlier today, but not before seeing the Alamo. For about 5 minutes. Throngs of tourists were filing through. And since none of us was interested in being part of the throng -- too many feet on toes and elbows in ribs and dumbshits taking pictures even though there are signs posted all over saying "absolutely no photography" -- we ducked in, admired it for a moment, then ducked out.
The kids wanted to check out the San Antonio Children's Museum a few blocks away. We stopped by, saw that it was more of a preschooler playspace, and ducked out of there pretty quick, too.
On the way out of town, we turned off the freeway and into a northern San Antonio strip mall hell so that we could replenish the kids' book supply at a Barnes & Noble.
We found our way to Austin and set up camp at McKinney Falls State Park, about 20 minutes south of downtown. This is not the KOA, and the kids are PISSED. Where are the go-karts? Where is the playground? Where are the other kids? Where is the trailer flipping all-you-can-eat chocolate-chip pancakes? Guys, this is nature. Now run along and watch out for snakes and poison ivy. (Secretly, though, I have vowed that if I find more than five ticks total on any of our bodies, I'm packing up and making it straight for a hotel. I have a five-tick maximum.)
Keith and I were alarmed to receive literature upon check-in proclaiming that alcoholic beverages are strictly prohibited inside the state park (inside ALL Texas state parks), and that violators will be prosecuted. Pfffft. Whatever.
We ventured out to a place called Shady Grove for dinner and music. The restaurant hosts an outdoor music series through the summer called Shady Grove Unplugged, and customers pack the patio or set up blankets on the lawn and enjoy a live band. Tonight it was Sons of Fathers -- roots rock, I guess, if "roots rock" means the bass player is front-and-center, jamming on his upright. It was nice time, and a chance to scope out the Austin scene. The crowd was an interesting mix of families with babies and toddlers; young couples on date-night; scruffy hipsters; that one guy in a short, tropical-print skirt and painted toenails; and a very pregnant woman clad only in a bikini. Granted, we've only been here a few hours, but my impression of the city so far is "Funky with a side of Bicycle," since we've already seen, like, 900 bike shops. Or, put another way: Portland wrapped in a tortilla. A very hot, sweaty tortilla.
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