Texas

When I told people I was coming to Texas this weekend, they typically responded with an emotion ranging from confusion to disgust, and some form of the question why?

Why not?

Now that I'm here, the more I see, the less I understand people's reaction. Because I was so exhausted when I arrived yesterday, I spent the evening exploring the suburbs around Austin. I didn't want to go farther, since I seemed to get lost every 5 minutes and didn't want my rental car to run afoul of some big Texas truck when I swerved around the city in my confused and sleep deprived haze.

My first impressions of Texas are that the landscape is flat and featureless, the weather is crazy -- it's 85 in October, and the hotel also gave safety instructions in case of tornado, flood, hurricane, and blizzard -- and everything really is bigger. The stores are bigger, the roads are bigger, and there's so much space that you'll drive for 5 minutes through a green pasture between strip malls. The people are generally friendly, and overwhelmingly obsessed with football, the Longhorns being the local squad here in Austin. Barbecue is plentiful, and seems to be more of a way of life than a type of food; there's even beer made from mesquite smoked malt... which is delicious, by the way.

I haven't seen much yet, but so far I kind of dig it here, which makes me a little annoyed at all the Sourpuss Judgersons who questioned my vacation in the Lone Star state. People are often holier-than-thou about the South, Red States, anyone who thinks hybrid motors are a step backward in technology (ie me), and that's just arrogant. And kind of ignorant, to be really honest. Why wouldn't you want to check out everything the world has to offer? You may still hate it and feel superior, but at least you found out for yourself, instead of judging things based on your own narrow world view.

Which is why I'm finishing up my coffee now and hitting the road for San Antonio, to see it for myself.

But the important question is: will I remember the Alamo?