The San Francisco Bay Area is severely lacking when it comes to enormous, roadside animal collections, those ticky-tacky highway menageries that seem to clutter other regions.
That’s the main lesson from my recent trip to Austin for the Dad 2.0 Summit: My city needs more oversized roadside animals.
Cruising over the inky black patchwork of rain-slick roads in the Texas hill country, I found enormous and unexpected joy in discovering these creatures — the pudgy squirrels, the rollicking elephants, the giraffes that seemed to materialize out of the shrubs to offer a friendly, “Hello, stranger. Welcome.”
I like a place where people go out of their way to say, “I like squirrels and you know, after seeing my giant fiberglass specimen, I think you will too.”
This must be what they mean by down home Texas hospitality, these offerings.
It always takes me a few days to get used to the hospitality of other regions. In San Francisco, you’re lucky to get a shrug or even a snort after those casual cash register interactions that come with buying coffee or, say, finding a place to stay for the night.
“Thanks, have a good one.”
“Mm hmm.”
It must chip away at the soul, these interactions. Because pretty much everywhere I went in Texas, I was almost taken aback by friendly gestures.
One woman at a coffee shop thanked me profusely for my order.
“Where you from, honey?”
I inched away from the counter and, only later, realized I had lightly brushed my hand against my wallet pocket, just to make sure it was still there.
“Why?”
There’s always a sense of ending in California. Drive one direction for an hour and eventually you hit a mountain or a beach or some new landmark that reminds you of destination, of home.
At twilight, while driving back from Austin to my hotel outside of town, I had a near panic attack at the sprawling, endless vista — the vastness that seemed to settle on the horizon like humidity.
I have a very difficult time at conferences, the reason for my trip. I was speaking on a panel with some amazing dad bloggers about writing, and we had a good time and I think it went really well. But the rest of the time, the parties, the hallway chit chat, the casual get-togethers, I can’t help feeling like the boringest, most awkward moron in the world — the guy who can always find a way to stop pretty much any conversation. So by the end of these things, I’m usually hiding out in my hotel room, reading a book.
I struck out to Austin solo for dinner one night but because of the crowds in the barbecue restaurant had to share a table with a couple, essentially inserting myself into the very situation I was running from. I felt so badly for this couple, who ate and smiled and waited politely for me to leave.
A good friend who happened to be in town invited me to a movie and I jumped at the chance. It’s always such a soul-quenching thing, to hang out with someone who knows you well enough to expect very little.
I called Emmeline every evening to say goodnight and accidentally let it slip that the hotel had not only a few horses to ride but also a whole army of ponies and had even taken to saddling a couple longhorn cows for kicks.
When I finally made it home and slipped into her room at night to see her, she rubbed her eyes and sleepily groaned, “Did you bring me a saddle cow?”
“What?”
“Ponies.”
She tried to lift her head one more time and then slumped back to sleep while I kissed her forehead and was grateful for that vast feeling of comfort that sometimes settles on you like a hug. It reminded me to ask her mother whether we could get an elephant for the front yard. Or maybe a zebra. Something wild and tacky to tell the world, “Hello stranger, welcome.”
***
I had a great time meeting some new friends and also exploring Austin and its surrounding sprawl. Here are a few more of my favorite photos from the trip.
Dude, everyone there thought you’re a rock star! “Mike Adamick…” “You know Mike Adamick?” “THE Mike Adamick?” ;-P
I’m the guy who went to bed early every night because I couldn’t figure out how to insert myself less-than-awkwardly into group conversations with cooler-than-me people in places (read: bars) I’d never go to otherwise, and finally deciding to stop trying cuz it wasn’t my natural inclination. Heh.
Anyway, I’m so glad we go to hang out and talk in Austin after the whole thing was over. Let’s do it again–with families along.
Ha! You’re awesome, considering most of those ended in “Mike Adamick … you know, the weirdo.”
I had such a great time getting to explore and eat all the food trucks with you, and thanks again for the ice cream! Yes, let’s do it again. And thanks. Glad to have finally met you.
I felt honored to meet you. Then when you told me you live in my old neck of the woods, I wanted to fly back to San Francisco with you, dammit.
My post had to do with exactly what you’re talking about here too. Why do I still feel like that middle-schooler with braces, glasses and sweatpants who’s about to his pants pulled down trying to climb a fence at these things?
And Jason speaks sooth. You’re name came up all the time. In high regard.
If you do venture beyond your circles, know you’re welcome.
Ooh, Charlie used “you’re” instead of “your.” -5 blogger points. (Because, again, the whole left-over-from-high-school in-crowd/outsider anxiety, and hey, you’re prettier and famous-er than me.) ;-P
I think Charlie’s referring to general middle school Wonder Years kind of awkwardness here, not the whole cool kid high school thing. I definitely didn’t get any of that vibe at Dad 2.0, thankfully. Everyone there was so welcoming and friendly and awesome. If that wasn’t the case, I never would have left my room at all.
But yeah, minus five points. They’re has to be standards …
So that’s what you were doing! We all thought you were too cool to hang out with us. Well played.
It’s hilarious to think that there would be enough social acumen at a blogging conference that anyone could feel awkward. Pretty much everyone except for John Osborn and Doug French are too paralyzed by their own anxiety to even notice when anyone else is weird. That’s what’s so great about it! On the other hand, if you didn’t drink, most of the activities you missed would have been unbearable to you.
I’m so glad we were on a panel together, because I feel like I wouldn’t have gotten a chance to talk to you at all otherwise. Next time we’re at a conference together, I’ll go to the movies with you and not talk.
That is a date! Seriously, I had such a fun time getting the chance to meet you. Finally. And it’s really nice to know all this everyone-is-anxiety-riddled-too stuff. Very helpful. Next time, I’m in on the stripper mobile. Maybe. Make sure you let me know when you’re up here and we’ll hang.
Awesome post, and awesome pictures. Glad you got the picture of the art-deco jewelry store. Great meeting you and look forward to future awesomeness. Awesome.
Being from the Northeast, I was also extremely thrown at first by all the politeness offered up by the people of Texas. Then I realized that it stems from them understanding the real possibility that everyone they encounter in their state could be legally carrying a concealed weapon.
It was my pleasure to finally meet the man behind the myth, though now it makes it much harder for me hate you for your success. Bastard.
Cheers – K.
Ha! On the way out of there, I saw two dudes carrying automatic rifles in the parking lot. No cases, just the weapons. So you may be on to something …
It was great to meet you too!
Ha! As I said in my post, I was looking forward to meeting you, as you were about the last blogger I read whom I had yet to meet. Not any more!
I find it less awkward to meet new people at a blogging conference than it is meeting new folks in traditional social settings centered around a professional conference or office picnic, for example. Why? Because we already know about one another. I like that I can skip the traditional conversational stepping stones and move onto something more important (I already know what you do, how many kids you have, where you live, etc.).
That being said, this is more true in a smaller group (like 5-10) than it is in a room with 200 people.
As far as my initial thoughts about you went, I figured you were one of those introverted writer types who’d be more comfortable at a dinner with a few than in a hotel ballroom with several. And that’s okay. My wife’s like that, and I like hanging out with her, too.
Mike, do you already read The Bloggess? Aside from the fact that she’s hilarious, she has terrible social anxiety and has often written about hiding out in the bathroom when she is supposed to be mingling at a conference; you may feel kinship with her. Thanks for this post about Texas — I think I’ll have to forward the link to my Texas relatives who will also find it very amusing!
I gotta say, living in Minnesota, there’s a phrase “Minnesota Nice.” Like we’re all friendly or crap. But do we have giant fiberglass fauna dotting our roadways? No sir, no sir we don’t. Perhaps the frigid winters are no match for our icy, icy hearts.
Love the blog, dude. Wish I could have made this conference.