My trip was cut short due to my grandma’s passing, and Anthony had the time of his life those first few days without me. He hit up the Dirty Sixth with Austin locals he made friends with and ended up giving one of them my Friday wristband. They saw all the bands I wanted to see. I’m bummed I missed Tame Impala and Leon Bridges among others, but luckily I didn’t have to wake up at an ungodly hour on Saturday and wait with him in that 4-hour line for Franklin. Day-old brisket reheated in a hotel microwave and eaten in my chonies still tasted better than any BBQ I’ve ever had in California!
I flew in Saturday night and met up with Anthony at an Irish pub downtown. Fado is the official US soccer bar in Austin, and it’s surrounded by gay bars on 4th Street. My uber driver was convinced he was taking me to see my gay friend once I told him where I was headed LOL. I mean, it would explain so much… After US lost to Mexico, we hit up Firehouse (a cool little speakeasy inside a hostel) and Rainey Street. I loved, loved, loved it there. Rainey Street is a block of old houses converted into themed bars. We stayed till last call, and all I remember from that night is a lot of Ludacris and stanky legs. You don’t realize how drunk you are until you’re walking the hotel halls in nothing but your dress slip looking for a beverage machine so you could wash down some tylenol at three in the morning.
We didn’t wake up early enough to stand in line for BBQ before the festival on Sunday, but we stopped by Torchy’s Tacos before we made our trek to Zilker Park. There was a lot of walking. Like. A LOT. Before, during and after the festival. In nearly 100 degree heat. And in sandals that had 0% arch support (but were 100% cute, obvs). This was definitely not Portland where we had a local friend with a car, ample public transportation, and weather that was 50 degrees cooler. The highlight of my day happened just before BØRNS’ set when the sun disappeared behind the only cloud in the sky for half a minute and everyone cheered. BØRNS, Sylvan Esso and Hozier’s sets were very close seconds. So were those two snow cones we each had.
Before I knew it, it was Monday and time to check out. Anthony hit up the gym in the morning while I stayed my ass in bed. We ate lunch at Valentina’s Tex Mex where Anthony had brisket tacos and I had a beast of a beef rib with the most beautiful smoke ring. We strolled down South Congress afterwards and drank micheladas for three hours at a bar inside Hotel San Jose. We got to the airport early to watch the Chargers lose, and I asked the TSA guy if the Starbucks was before or after the security gate. He ruined my mom’s life and told me that there’s no Starbucks at all, because Austin is all about supporting local businesses. I get a Starbucks mug for my mom whenever I travel, and she’s just gonna have to be happy with the mug I got her during my layover in Phoenix!
All things considered, I’m glad I was able to take a break from life and escape for a couple of days. I’ll def be back to explore this weird little town again.
When I was reading The Diary of a Young Girl in high school, I mentioned to my grandma that I wanted to visit the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam. Years later, she traveled to the Netherlands while visiting my aunt in Denmark and brought me back a souvenir from the museum. I couldn’t believe she remembered after all that time. My grandma was the most considerate and sentimental person I’ve ever known, and I’m grateful that she instilled her thoughtfulness in me.
She is the reason I have random notes in my phone that say, “christine garlic delight dip at del mar fair” or “anthony swagu stamp.” She taught me that even if people have everything, you don’t have to give them the world to let them know you appreciate them. You just have to remember the little things.
She is also part of the reason I have over 20k miles on my new car. I’d put a million more miles on there if I could drive down to San Diego and spend just one more day with her.
Rest in paradise, Grandma Julie. I love you more than my seemingly apathetic demeanor suggests. You know I don’t like to let them see me cry.
The last time Paul McCartney played a show in San Diego, I wasn’t even born yet. But I grew up listening to the Beatles because my dad would blast their records and play along with his guitar when I was a kid. I always thought he was their biggest fan, but Anthony might be giving him a run for his money.
Since none of our friends are going to the show with us, I’ll probably have to be Anthony’s emergency contact for when he faints like a fangirl at a Michael Jackson concert! Ha. When I asked my dad if he wanted tickets for his birthday, he said that he already bought tickets for himself, my mom and their friends before I even got mine. My bad, presale! Maybe someone else can be Anthony’s emergency contact after all.
I kicked off my Thanksgiving vacay last week with the girls and JT in the OC!
It wouldn’t be a Justin Timberlake show without Christine almost getting into a fight! Ha. The image of Christine with half of her body hanging out the car window as we drove off will stay with me forever.
Thanks to Pammie for risking her life to take these awesome vids!
Why’s everyone still singing about California?
Haven’t we heard enough about the Golden State?
I guess if you like sandy beaches and blue ocean water
There’s something about it, to which I cannot relate