"I wish I was in Austin
In the Chili Parlour Bar
Drinkin' Mad Dog Margaritas
And not carin' where you are" - Guy Clark, Dublin Blues
Work recently took to me Austin, where I spent some time in classrooms on the UT campus. Sadly, news that it was fall had not quite arrived locally, despite the crush of students wandering the streets and filling the local eateries at the noon hour. It was still hot.
I did visit the joint mentioned in the song, and found that the quality of the food exceeded my expectations. The chili was spicy and beefy, with no beans to be seen and certainly none of the extraneous bits of pasta that some people north of Gawd's country occasionally require in their bastardization of the dish. I avoided the margaritas, as I have never really developed a taste for them. A Shiner Bock (or several) served as my liquid refreshment.
I went twice, once with a local who has been a long-time friend and once blogger buddy who has since left this channel of communication. The next trip was with a co-worker, a more sullen and quiet person. Kind of a downer, honestly, and certainly a stark contrast to the bubbly personality of my local friend who is doing her damnedest to "keep Austin weird."
I saw too little of the town for my taste, and it is doubtful that I will be afforded much of an opportunity to see more of it when I return next month for another week of work.
