Dustin and Moldman got up at the ass-crack of dawn to go visit the LBJ library, which I'm sure was lovely. The rest of us caught up on sleep and finally roused ourselves around lunchtime. We met the little bro at this place called The Salt Lick, a BYOB establishment with long, picnic-style tables, a central smoker, and the best damn brisket you could ask for. The place is organized as an all-you-can-eat, where they keep bringing you plates of ribs, pulled pork and brisket until your body cries out, STOP. The ribs were second only to the ones in Memphis, but that brisket will be in our hearts forever -- both figuratively and literally, in the guise of arterial blockage.
After a quick jaunt to a Texas winery (really), we drove past a gun-range that advertised M-16 rentals. This being Texas, and us being utterly unfamiliar with guns, we decided whythehellnot and decided to go in. It sounds like the start of a joke. Three Jews and a Mexican walk into a Texas shooting range ... . Unfortunately, rentals were incredibly expensive, and the ammo even more so. Perhaps they marked-up the prices because we clearly had no idea what we were doing and they'd rather not give us assault weapons.
That is, none of us knew what we were doing, except for Moldman.
Moldman: You know, I'm a pretty good marksman.
Charlie: They teach you that at space camp?
Yes, Moldman went to space camp. I know.
We drove around Austin then, looking at the sights. We took in the Texas Capitol building, a pretty impressive monument. The effigies outside it are worth mentioning, especially the ten commandments slab outside. Yep, the same one that was featured in that pretty famous Supreme Court case whose name escapes me at the moment. I have learned, through the years, that law students love to pose with it more than they love to pose with any other landmark in America. Seriously, go through your friends' Facebook pictures. All law students who've gone to Texas have posed with the ten commandments. No people who have gone to Texas who aren't law students have gotten their picture taken with it. Yay, LSAT!
My little brother then gave us a tour of the University of Texas campus, and then we chilled in the pool in his apartment complex. And the hot tub. Because why not.
It was then time to hit the infamous Austin, Texas nightlife, courtesy of Sixth street. In no particular order, the following events happened:
Spy Gary Busey, an actor/crazy person who would later come back to haunt us, at the Driskill hotel, drinking with his buddies in between the transparent piano and the cowhide couches. Consider asking him for his saltshaker. Refrain. Stop at Treasure Island bar, where chicks dance on the bar. Nearly set the record for the erotic photo hunt at Buffalo Billiards. Don't ask. Go to The Chugging Monkey and have ice-offs where Alan wins by keeping his hand in the ice-container the longest. See a drunk fat guy throw his hat across the room and hit Alan with it. Drunk fat guy kisses Alan on the cheek to apologize. Charlie and Moldman leave for the night, and cab driver rails against Cesar Chavez Way and the practice of naming streets after socialists, bemoaning the lack of streets named industrial capitalists. "Why don't we have a Rockefeller Avenue?" Dustin and Alan later walk home, and Dustin refuses to pay 3 dollars for a pizza slice. They instead go to a Wendy's, but only the drive-thru is open. Try to walk through it, acting like a car, but are refused service. Good samaritan buys chicken nuggets for them anyway. On walk home, deliberate peeing on the Capitol but decide against it, largely because of the police presence. Duck into bar to use their bathroom. Turns out to be a gay bar with naked guys dancing everywhere. [Redacted]. Dustin and Alan get home much later. Charlie and Moldman don't believe them when they said nothing happened. Sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment