"Newman, I don't think we're in Washington anymore."
These were the words I said to myself as I disembarked from the plane a mere two weeks ago, noticing the severe lack of mountains and the fact that the sky was sunny and clear, and the guy throwing the baggage onto the cart was in shorts and a tank top. In late January.
I felt a bit like Dorothy, thrown into a new land following the tornado of one's late twenties, a natural phenomenon (or disaster, depending on how you look at it) that causes people to do things like MOVE TO TEXAS.
That said, although I have not met midgets, monkeys, or tin men, the city of Austin has been peopled with plenty of characters.
Top award thus far goes to a man named Pat, a lovely middle aged fellow with profound cognitive delays (by my estimation) who chatted me up at a bus stop during my first days here. (Side note: the bus here sucks, I am sad to admit, and is quite similar to bus systems across the country- smelly, strange, and unreliable, although cheap and thoroughly entertaining.) So, back to our story: Pat introduces himself to me, shows me his 2 big gulp cups which he has used a label maker to mark as his own, and then shows me his 2 gigantic bags of yarn from JoAnn fabrics. He tells me he crochets blankets, and I smile and nod approvingly. He asks if I want to see the one he's working on, I say yes, and he proceeds to unlock three small padlocks on a wheely suitcase and pull out, I kid you not, a gigantic, perfectly made, rainbow colored Afghan. To add to the party we also had these individuals standing at the bus stop: guy with dreads down to his ass, and possibly inbred teenager on the cellphone who asked me how to buy a bus ticket to Kansas.
Gotta love public transit. Within the first week or so I managed to find a room in a house in a neighborhood called Cherrywood, borrow a one speed bike named Mr. Ed from my awesome buddy Angelina, and get cast in two short plays as part of the University of Texas New Works festival.
In full disclosure, one of the plays is being directed by the talented and wonderful Noah Martin, friend from undergrad, and we had spoken about it before I arrived. It is a bike play (in which audience and actors complete a 7 mile bike ride during which scenes are performed in site specific spaces) and it will be done film noir style. Badass, right?!
The second play was written by an MFA Playwriting student, and I will be playing a squirrel named Marla with a hoarding problem. Hysterical. I am hoping for a squirrel suit, or at least a tail.
My house is very cute, though a bit rundown. Room has wood floors and lots of light, and Emily, my new roommate, is a very generous and warm-hearted lady. The girl who just moved out was a bike rider from Seattle, so I fit right in. I have already met a few folks from the Pacific NW, and every time this happens I try to pump fists and yell, 206 rules!!!!!
If you haven't received a phone call from me yet, you may not know that I am struggling a bit (understatement) with the entirety of the being in a new place that although is culturally compatible with Seattle (and especially Portland) is VERY different from my old, comfortable life. You know it's bad when you cry upon receiving a package from your parents from Trader Joes's, and REALLY bad when you cry while looking at pictures of elderly, adoptable golden retrievers on Petfinder. Shit.
But, I get that it took a certain amount of bravery to jump ship and move to a new place without benefit of a boyfriend or friend, or the structure of school to leap into.
I imagine that once I am gainfully employed and no longer sleeping on a pile of sleeping bags on the floor, I will start to feel better.
I am heartened by the kindness of Austinites, and the cheap and delicious food that seems to abound. Near my house there is a walk-up taco stand called Chilito that has a giant mustache seesaw in the parking lot, and just today at my local coffeeshop I had a big cup of coffee and a blueberry scone for under $4. Can't beat that.
Tomorrow I am going to a fancy bowling ally called Hi-Ball with my good family friend that I stayed with for the first week, upon arriving in Austin. She has been my saving grace- taking me to Ikea to get curtains and towels, hanging out watching The Daily Show in the morning, and offering support whenever and however it is needed.
The title of this post refers to signs that dot many residential roads, proclaiming "road humps." Personally I would think that "bumps" might be a description that would lead to less thoughts of innuendo, but whatever. In my case, I think it fitting to say that I am experiencing my own "road humps/bumps" on this delightful little highway of transition, but I trust that they will even out, especially as the weather begins to warm up and I begin to settle in.
This shit ain't easy, that's for sure.
All that said, thank you for reading, and stayed tuned for stories about chorizo and egg breakfast tacos, Bulleit bourbon cocktails, bike rides and food carts and hula hooping fiascos. Hope this finds you well, and more soon . . .
your ginger gal,
Miss Newman
