Chasing Austin
Two hours into my trip, and things are already getting weird. As I’m boarding the plane from OMA to DFW, there is a mother with her two young twins who form a second line just for themselves perpendicular to the real line. The lady in front of me with nice Coach luggage lets them cut in front of us. The twins are probably around seven with matching short, blunt haircuts that angle down toward the chin, and each is holding a doll. But these are not your typical Barbies, these are some of the most disturbing dolls you’ve ever seen. Kind of a mix between American Girl, the one-eyed balding doll you found your childhood friend’s older brother secretly tormenting, and the large antique doll with hollow eyes (and definitely no soul) you found while snooping in your great-aunt’s dusty, antique chest.
One of them stares at me from over her owner’s shoulder the entire way down the ramp and onto the plane.
I finally get inside the plane, and there isn’t any overhead space for my carry-on near my seat, so I’m forced to continue down about six rows until I find a good spot. I have a moment of panic (this thing better freaking fit), and a glimpse of Ben Stiller in Meet the Parents flashes before me, but I get the bag in and compartment door shut. Of course there’s still a line of people behind me waiting to get to their seats, so I’m forced to sit down near where I’m standing. I take a seat next to a girl who is a med student heading back to DFW (home) for spring break. We make small talk until I see an opening–a slowpoke in the line formation–which is my sign to stand up and try to rush to my spot without causing too much commotion. Of course I have the middle seat, so I slip in and give my apologies to the two suits I’m sitting between for the momentary disruption.
The guy directly in front of me is probably in his early twenties, and he’s smooshed between his parents. There’s a young girl across the aisle from them with all three seats to herself, so the dad, caving in to temptation, leans across and say, “Hey, how did you get those all to yourself on a full flight? Lucky! Maybe he could come over and sit by you,” motioning over to his son. The son, mortified, tells his dad he’ll never travel with him ever again, and the dad responds, “What? I was trying to get more elbow room.” The whole thing makes me smile and snort..
Now I’m sitting and writing, and the guy in the aisle seat next to me falls asleep. If you are on the aisle and you fall asleep, you suck. Seriously, what is the etiquette for when you have to pee and aisle guy has nodded off? We haven’t even been in the air ten minutes…they haven’t even taken our drink order yet! I start to get antsy. I look to the guy to my right for some comraderie amongst this chaos that is so obviously going on. I probably look like a fidgety heap of Mexican jumping beans. Suit number two (who looks like Bradley Cooper) doesn’t make eye contact. The girl across the aisle with three seats to herself notices my angst and smiles at me, feeling my pain. I mouth the words, “What do I do?” She smiles, shrugs, and makes the “nudging” gesture, like I should elbow him in the ribs. Not a bad idea. I smile, roll my eyes, and sit back, defeated.
So what’s my plan? The guy wasn’t nice in the least when I had to squeeze by him to sit in my seat. Maybe he doesn’t speak english well. Or maybe he has bad breath and he’s embrarrased about it, which is why he popped that stick of gum in his mouth 30 seconds into the flight. Or maybe he’s going to DFW because he lives there, and everything is bigger in Texas (including douchebagery). Whatever the reason, I decide to drink more. I have a Corona Extra, and maybe if I drink enough beer, it will have the opposite effect.
As I wait for this inevitable, reasonable effect to take place, I start thinking about SX. I haven’t really had a chance to plan for it. There was one weekend where I spent a few hours starring the presentations and workshops I’m interested in, and Corey (my coworker, Austin landlord, and partner in SX crime) and I huddled to share schedules with each other plan out a couple of the parties we might go to, but I really haven’t done half the research I normally would, like how to get from here to there or learn about the speakers or start engaging people on SX Social.
Oh my God, I have to pee. This theory I had isn’t working at all. I thought this was only an hour and twenty minute flight? I probably heard that wrong. Texas can’t be just a Chicago-and-a-half away. This changes everything! FML. Now it’s all I can think about. Wait. I feel a descent coming on. My ears are popping. Is it rude to accidentally punch aisle guy in the arm to wake him up? Okay I said that in a moment of desperation, that was wrong. But seriously how is this dude still asleep? Bring on some turbulence! Have the flight attendant accidentally run into him with her cart! Let this dude’s eyes just open for one freaking second! When they do, I hope the first thing he will sees are my crazed eyes staring him down.
* * * fifteen minutes later * * *
Okay, I got to the point of about bursting and finally nudged the guy a bit (after he had changed positions without opening his eyes…is this guy really a sloth disguising itself as human? ). We made eye contact and I motioned towards the bathroom. He nodded, and didn’t move. That’s right, folks. I had to crawl over him, my ass in his face. Both leaving and returning. Douchebagery.
As we’re exiting the plane, another feeling of lightweight dread washes over me. My carry-on is about six compartments down from me. I exit to let suit number two out and wait in the aisle across from my seat for a Good Samaritan to notice I’m patiently waiting for everyone to exit the plane so he can offer to grab my bag for me and I can reclaim my place in line. But of course that’s not how the world works. They don’t care that I booked ahead of them and checked in ahead of them and I should be in front of them. It’s common courtesy, but courtesy isn’t very common, is it? About 12 people pass me before a middle-aged gent offers to grab my bag. I thank him profusely and exit the plane.
Finally, we arrive in Dallas and I have about an hour to unwind. The plan once I land in Austin is to text Corey and find out where he, his sister, and Liz (his wife) are. They’re heading downtown for drinks, and Liz gets off around the time I land. From plane to drain, that’s what I say. Doesn’t really make sense but it rhymes and I’m jet-lagged, and that’s good enough for me right now.
I can already tell my next flight is going to be better than my first. I see tattoos. I see a white guy with a huge fro. I see young, smiling faces. That can only mean one thing. I’m on a plane full of South by Southwesterns. I sit next to a couple of friendly people who work for a start-up in San Francisco that are heading to SXSW Interactive and Film. Yep, much better than round one.
I Smell Tacos and Beer
We land around 11pm and I tell the girl next to me, Cecilia, that I’m heading downtown. She jokingly says she’ll probably see me down there. We bid each other farewell.
One 15-minute cab ride and 20-minute jaunt down 6th street later, I’m finally sitting with the crew at Gibson, a club that screams sensory-overload, Corona with lime and refreshing water in hand. We enjoy a couple drinks before making our way downstairs to check out a couple other bars and grab some street food. My first step outside and I see a girl, stopped dead in her tracks, pointing at me in astonishment. It’s Cecilia! We promise to tweet each other.
We continue on and make stops at Maggie Mae’s, The Side Bar (one of Corey and Liz’s favorites), and the people-packed Barbarella before grabbing some greasy pizza and calling it a night.
I know the next five days will be 18-hours long and full of tech, music, street food, badge tents, making connections, drinking, swag, inspiration, free goods, intense sessions with great content to retain, and hopefully a few epiphanies.
Bring it on.