I am a Dallas guy (which is ironic, because the name of my blog happens to be “Dallas Rocks”). I’ve been in this city all twenty years of my life. For around the past five years or so I’ve been attending concerts in Deep Ellum and getting to know the streets downtown. It’s a slow, slow work in progress. My brain does not comprehend directions. I’m always disgruntled because, I guess, I was never “gruntled” to begin with. But I’ve managed to familiarize myself with the major streets in downtown (that matter), such as Main, Elm, Live Oak, Commerce, etc.

Austin is a place that I am not familiar with at all. I made the 200 mile journey alone, keeping myself awake with music. I got directions off the internet and just set off with no more than a half hour of serious planning and another half hour of packing. I threw together a backpack with some books, my iPod, my laptop, a spiral notebook, some pens and pencils, and a copy of Dustin Kensrue’s album (for autographing purposes). I left Dallas at a little after 6 AM on Friday morning.

I knew from the map that I would be passing UT Austin before I hit downtown. I planned to stop on campus, take a little tour around, and hopefully meet up with some friends (which never happened, as all the Austin kids I knew were very likely back in Dallas for Spring Break). With my uncannily sharp sense of direction to guide me, I honed in on the nearest parking garage (which happened to be the last general parking garage on campus, and of course it was farthest away from where I was headed). I set out in my worn-out Converse, some corduroys I found at American Eagle for ten bucks, and an old Saves the Day shirt. The weather was only very slightly chilly until the sun came up; its warm rays cancelled out the wind’s edge. Even so, I alternated back and forth between wearing my jacket and schlepping it around behind me for the first couple of hours.

Being on UT campus brought back memories for me. I went to a magnet school (Science and Engineering Magnet, to be precise) for high school, and the only extracurricular event I really cared about was Spelling and Vocabulary. My senior year I finally made it to the State level of competition, which is essentially the finals. Competition took place at the University of Texas. I remember it well, because in between taking a test and receiving the results (I lost) a former student ran into me and the spelling coach, who was a freshman English teacher at my school, had a conversation with her about her career choices and how college was going. She told him that she was thinking of being an English teacher. He told her she was crazy. I didn’t heed his advice. Now I’m an English major. Ugh.

After about an hour of wandering across campus, calling up friends with no results, I made my way down to the state capitol. I’ve been there at least once, perhaps twice, but it was pretty exciting to be back. I asked for directions inside, and found that the road to SXSW waited just around the corner and out the door. I exited onto Congress. I knew I was going the right way based on the 6-ft tall guitars with custom paint jobs that stood like monuments at scattered intervals along the road. I once again failed at finding the most efficient way to the heart of the party, walking in circles until I ran into a more populated section of downtown. 6th Street. I understood right away that 6th Street was Main Street. There were relatively few people there before noon; I stopped into a couple of bars only to be driven out by mediocre bands playing to empty houses. In fact, the first band I got suckered into seeing reminded me of the worst of Dallas music: a bunch of thirty-something guys dressed up in clothes that make them look “totally rock and roll” with a lead singer belting out lame hair metal lyrics. I didn’t know the gentlest way to leave. I was the audience.

Things started picking up once I ran into the Naked Cowboy. He was walking right down the middle of 6th Street. I remembered seeing him on The Tonight Show or something similar some months ago, and I whipped out my camera phone to grab a picture (because, like a true winner, I didn’t even think once about dragging along a camera). He saw my phone and immediately turned and flexed. What a freaking bad ass.

I continued on down the road, drifting in and out of the various venues, bars, and smoke shops that line 6th. Around noon I stopped in Roppollo’s Pizza, a local pizza shop that’s reminiscent of Franzini’s here in Dallas. It was pretty good for 3 bucks a slice. I took a brief nap (drifting in and out of consciousness with my head down for about ten minutes). Then I headed back out into the daylight.

6th Street held more surprises for me once I reemerged into the daylight. I noticed an odd group of men standing in the middle of the road, all five of them dressed in matching white jeans and white track jackets. Several of the guys had full beards. This told me that I was looking at a band. Beards are “hot” right now. I noticed that the guys were being interviewed by a really messy-haired guy in a nice 70’s college professor suit. He was holding a microphone that bore the words “The Tonight Show with Jay Leno”. I moved in closer.

The band (I wrote the name down somewhere) was filming a little song and dance skit for the show, and they kept fucking it up. Twenty minutes later, they had it down. It was pretty entertaining to watch. I seriously couldn’t figure out who in the hell the man was. I feel dumb now. It was Wayne Coyne. I’ve gone on rambling for far too long tonight. Time for me to slap on a “To Be Continued…” sign…

To Be Continued…