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"grackle attack!": austin night three
We were exhausted from the bike riding and the sun and the staying up late and the fun, but we were troopers and there was more fun to be had. So we napped and got changed and got ready for burritos and music. Mike and Lynn were dedicated to the Emo's Annex hardcore show (I admired their ability to stay in one venue for six hours, but I chose to admire it from afar) and Meg and I had multiple plans and no wristbands. I wanted to see Portland Mike's band play, and also say hello to the Mummy, who's been kicking around Austin lately. Meg wanted to see Biffy Clyro, who promised cute Scottish accents if nothing else. We both wanted to see the Go! Team and bounce around to electronic beats. And then there was the 2 a.m. show on the Lamar Pedestrian Bridge. The excellent and well-lit parking space we found blocks from the chaos of 6th street seemed to be a good sign for how the night would go - the birds in the tree above were as excited as we were, cackling up a storm. We were set, we were psyched, we would not be denied!
We are completely denied. We start at the Observers show, since that was the earliest and I'd have a chance to say some hellos. "How much is the show?" I ask the door guy. "Do you have a badge?" he asks in return. Nope, I say, and he shakes his head. "Sold out," he says, and I just stare. He stares back. "Really?" I ask, stunned. It's a punk showcase, not some big name indie noise band. How could it be sold out? "Yup," he says, and we go back and forth a few more times like an Abbott & Costello routine. I walk away from the door in disbelief and regroup with Meg. Still shaking my head over it, I feel a tap on my shoulder. The hell? Hey, it's Mummy Boy! Awesome! How've you been? Oh, weird and awkward. Oooooh-kay. Well, that's disappointing. Meg and I confer while MB figuresd out his own plans with the other mini punks. We decide on going early to the Go! Team, hoping it's early enough. It isn't. We stand in line for twenty minutes but are still an hour too late. Okay then. Um, Biffy Clyro? Meg thinks I'll like it, but it's a little too... something for me. I like the Longcut though, who open up with alternating drums and drum machine beats. Neat. Afterward we head to the Annex to find Mike and Lynn, but they're only halfway through their show, and we're wiped out, so it's back to the car to catch a nap before 2 a.m. bridge shenanigans.
Our feet our dragging as we head back to the car, illuminated under the streetlight. Our lovely tan rental car. Our lovely tan rental car absolutely covered in bird shit. "It's the grackles," the security guard smoking a cigarette under an awning says. Meg and I are convulsing with laughter. I can't figure out how to open the car door without touching anything, and as I stand under the tree, I hear distinct dropping sounds behind me. "Open the door! Open the door!" I scream and it takes her forever to get the key in the lock, she's shaking so hard from laughing. The light throws disgusting shadows on our dashboard as we drive back home. Grackles!
Then it's back to the house and time for a nap. Set the alarm for 1:45 and curse it hard and long when it goes off. Get up, wash face, brush teeth, try anything to be more awake. Try to wake up Meg and get a generic hand wave away. I guess I'm going on my own. It's pitch black night, I'm riding a bike down a steep hill in a neighborhood I'm unfamiliar with, exhausted and bleary from sleep, and my helmet doesn't fit. This has Cautionary AfterSchool Special written all over it. But I go anyway and bike down the empty streets, past the empty schoolyards, over the main road, and up to the bridge without trouble and with my heart pumping with excitement. The bridge looks empty but when I get closer to the middle I see hordes of kids gathered, loitering and drinking and waiting for the band who's setting up and tuning up. I see Mummy Boy and lock my bike and go over to say hello and exchange slightly less awkward conversation about trips and travel and zines and projects and Austin and New York and points ahead. The bands start up and it's loud and raucous and fun and I climb a bench and light pole to get a view of the bands, which, 30 minutes later, becomes a view of the cop car pulling up. Uh oh. Except in Austin it seems even the cops are cool. They recon briefly then go back to their car at the end of the bridge for another 20 minutes, letting the kids slam and the bands play and the show go on.
Eventually one particularly dad-like cop walks over to the local band and tells them they're going to have to wrap it up, and they do, politely, respectfully. The bassist starts clapping and then all the kids are clapping and the cop does a little mock bow and waves at everyone and that's it, show's over, no ridiculousness. It's back on the bike and back up the hill and back to the warm apartment and sleeping bag, no drama, no trauma, just fun.