When I was on the plane flying into Texas, I was sitting next to a guy named Danny. Usually I don’t know the name of anyone else on a plane, but I learned his because he actually talked to me. That’s never happened before—someone making conversation on an airplane. He was an older man, and a traveling guitarist guy who was visiting his mother for the first time in 15 years. He was a nice dude, and we parted ways after the plane landed. But then, three days later, I was walking on the trail around the lake and an older man with a guitar strapped to his back biked past me and then stopped. He said, “Hey, nice to see you again!” And I said, “Oh hi! What a coincidence!” Except on closer examination, this guy was not Danny. And I was not who he thought I was. We had both mistaken each other for someone else, but I probably wouldn’t have thought that at all if he didn’t stop and turn around. This character was especially memorable because his fly was down, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him. But then the freakiest thing happened: he said, “Are you from Baltimore?” And I was like, “Yeah… how did you know that?” I guess that the other person he had happened to meet, who looked like me, was also from Baltimore. I never saw the real Danny again. I hope he and his mom are having a great time.
While I was walking around one night, I saw a homeless man sleeping on a bench across the street. A woman walked past him and said, “Hey sir, there’s a Starbucks right here, do you want me to buy you some coffee?” She was completely genuine and was just being a good Samaritan. That woman epitomized the people of Austin.
On the day that I went to see Dark Universe, I was asked at the ticket counter if I was a student. Apparently students get discounted tickets. I said, “I am a student, but not at University of Texas…” I couldn’t lie. But then the person at the counter said, “That’s okay.” And I continued to make my life more difficult: “I don’t even live in Texas,” I said. She said, “It’s fine. Do you have an ID card?” I almost continued to argue because I’m kind of not a student, as I’m actually a graduate student. But I showed my ID and got the discount, and was happy. Even so, the ticket came to $6, which was too much for a 20-minute documentary.
There were multiple houses along the street I was living on that had chickens. And they would cock-a-doodle-doo all day long, especially in the morning. The sound of a rooster was typically my wakeup call each day, which was kind of cool, and very unexpected in an urban environment.
A house down the street from me had a Donald Trump piñata. It was especially poignant because the neighborhood I was in was mostly people of Hispanic descent.
Oh, one last photo, that I couldn’t think of anywhere to post:
Oh, and here’s a photo of a Squirrel, who, just before I took this photo, was furiously eating a potato chip. This was taken at the University of Texas campus, and was a pretty common sight. I am confident in saying that college campuses are havens for squirrels. Guess it makes sense that I, a guy named Squirrel, work at universities for a living.