“With a little help from our friends” (Dave, Leslie, Nick – thanks!) we got on our way to Texas. A stop over in Chicago proved that “everything is big in Texas” does not apply to bathroom stall doors. Chicago has them beaten there. At nearly 9 feet tall with a very unhelpful gap of about 2 inches near the floor (you’d have to have your ear to the floor to determine if someone occupied the stall), you could easily hide a horse behind one. I’m sure a shrieking whinny would alert you though…
After some overpriced beers and greasy airport food, I had no problem falling asleep for the flight to Texas. With a warm overnight stay at a cousin Tina & Steve’s in Austin, we took our time driving down to Rockport.
We spent 4 hours in search of the elusive Texas Longhorn. Many sheep, horses, donkeys, unusual cows
and lovely pastures later, we’d only spotted what we believed were Longhorns in the distance. Warren, in his best wildlife documentary voice, explained, “a shy and timid creature, the Longhorn remains at a distance, fearful of the fences which might trap his mighty horns”.
Steve suggested we follow the famous Texas BBQ trail, so in Lockhart (location of oldest library in TX and most photographed Courthouse) we stopped at Blacks BBQ – family owned for 100 years. Following bright yellow signs with a large black finger-pointing hand, we arrived a bit early for the lunch hour crowd. Under the “Open 8 days a week” sign, we entered the deserted establishment. “So what are you famous for?” I asked, to which the shower-capped matron replied “Our sausage and our brisket”. (Huh?)
Finally, arriving in Rockport, the first order of business was to find a recycling place. I telephoned the “Community Recycling Center” and asked what and where we can recycle. “Well…” and I think he paused to spit chewing tobacco, “we recycle cans and plastic bottles – but we don’t pay ya for ’em”. Smiling, I replied that we just wanted to find a place to recycle and we mainly had bottles. “Nope, we don’t recycle bottles or newspapers.” Warren’s answer was, “Welcome to Texas where our landfills are big enough for your bottles too”.
After relaxing with relatives in a very comfortable (but windy) bay-front home, we did some final shopping for our trip to Mexico. Two items of note – I dyed my hair brown (much to Warren’s dismay) and bought a programmable padlock. The lock allowed for a 4 letter combo (no digits), so as we were trying to think of one, my 7-year-old niece pipes up “I know!” and points at her uncle Warren, “It’s what he likes the most!”. Puzzled, I said “love”? Hands on hips, he shouts, “NO! BEER!”. …I’m an idiot!
To see more pictures from this story, check out the Texas gallery