The weekend is for getaways—jaunts down to the shores of an inviting waterscape or a blinding jolt of culture in a nearby city.
Unfortunately, this is Texas.
It takes too damn long to get anywhere, especially from Austin. Want to leave the state? Better plan for a solid four hour drive. So, getaways—glamorous or otherwise—aren't achieved easily. Especially on holiday weekends like Labor Day. They require frustrating delays and disheartening levels of traffic.
Commonsense, not to mention safety, says stay home, enjoy the restfulness of a no responsibility weekend. Yet, we all make the effort. What's that Gatsby quote about beating on ceaselessly against the current?
Like scads of other idiots, I made plans to spend the weekend in Port Aransas. But I made those plans full of hope. Plenty of friends and acquaintances had extolled the island community's virtues as a getaway spot over the years. Coupled with that second-hand praise was my own inherited proclivity for our nation's coastal waters and the requisite attachment to the associated cuisine.
My infernal naivety is vast. My inexperience abounds.
From the talk, I thought Port Aransas might be the answer: that golden retreat mere hours away from Austin. Instead, I learned that people don't know shit when it comes to vacations. Port Aransas is heavy on beers, fried fish, golf carts and cheap t-shirts. And that's what they get right.
The rest? Plenty of garbage, traffic, and greasy, nauseating breakfasts. Even the nightlife didn't offer much in way of redemption. There was no spontaneity, just a mass of people doing what they thought was expected of them: drinking heavily, dressing douchey and being loud.
There is no educator quite like visceral experience. And, from time to time, it's beneficial to remind oneself why it's not a great idea to touch a hot stove.
But before I drift further into a churlish, high-minded rant, please know that the weekend, though far from a retreat, provided copious amounts of fun. Booze fueled, sure. But beggars can't be choosers, right? Especially when it takes eight damn hours to get most places in this large state.
If a weekend escape to Port Aransas can provide anything resembling a moral it's this: it's not where you go, but with whom. Trite is true for a reason. With a few beers and a couple of pals, even the dingiest of getaways can be rewarding. Otherwise, stay in Austin and go hang out at the Yellow Jacket or something.