On the Road Again

            As moves go, this was a big one. According to Google Maps there are 1,025 miles between New Albany and Round Rock. This was going to take some work. The wonders of the internet and fax machines made the transition easier than it used to be. I had an apartment lined up and my utilities arranged. Now all I had to do was get everything I owned down to Texas.

            That would be accomplished with the help of a rented Penske truck and some friends. My buddy Vito was quick to volunteer for packing duty. My mom and stepfather came down as well. Thanks to them and my newfound philosophy of “That’s it, I’m throwing all this shit out,” we were able to cram everything into one truck, a Saturn and a Pontiac.

A couple other friends, Jack and Nick, would help with the driving. My parents decided to come along on the road trip as well, which was both a big help and a comfort through the entire transition. Two days of driving lay ahead of us. Jack and N ick manned the moving truck, my parents were in their Saturn, and I was in my car, accompanied only by my XM/Sirius Radio. The caravan pulled out and made its way South. On day one, the trip wound its way through Nashville, Memphis and ultimately to Little Rock for the night.

The drive went fairly smoothly. The miles rolled by as we drove through Kentucky, Tennessee and Arkansas where – let’s face it – there is very little to look at. You get into a bit of a trance rolling through hours of interstate with nothing but lines of trees on either side of you interrupted by the occasional l small-town exit populated by truck stop gas stations and big-chain fast food joints.

Riding alone in my car was certainly different than flying down for my interview. My departure time was early, and I arrived at the Indianapolis airport while it was still dark. It was then I learned among other things Panda Express food smells even worse at 8 a.m. then it does during the day. Luckily I was able to take a few deep breaths close to a Cinnabon to fix that problem.  

I had a middle seat for the first leg of the trip, which went from Indianapolis to Denver before a connecting flight took me to Austin. I thought I might have rolled a proverbial seven, as the flight was full – except for the aisle seat in my row. I had visions of sliding into the aisle seat and enjoying a free seat between me and window-seat guy. He and I kept exchanging glances, even once muttering to each other, “We’re not this lucky, are we?” No, no we weren’t. Just a minute before the flight attendants closed the door, a disheveled man in a suit with a crooked tie and a laptop came rumbling in and plopped down next to us. He was one of those guys whose sinuses were so congested he snored whether he was asleep or not.

We landed at the Denver airport, which is actually located in Kansas. That’s only a slight exaggeration. It certainly is not anywhere near Denver, which I never even saw out of the windows even when landing or taking off. There I passed the time reading my Nook among the other connectors of America. The guy sitting across from me was reading an issue of Field & Stream. According to the cover, it was the “Close Call” issue. I wanted to ask what kind of close calls there could be in a field or a stream (get a fishhook in the eye? Trip on a creek rock in eight inches of water?), but he didn’t seem interested in taking questions.   

In stark contrast, the drive down during the move was strictly solo for me. I do well on long drives, but two days alone in a car will make you feel pretty restless. At least the food was good. We followed up a Cracker Barrel lunch with dinner at Waffle House. At first we weren’t sure where to eat, but when we found out my mom had never experienced the wonders of Waffle House, the decision was made. Waffle House is one of the great grub places, and Jack and I had eaten at numerous locations over the years in the middle of the night on way back home from wrestling shows, or after a night of Kamikazees and pitchers of beer at the New View. A particular favorite excursion there was highlighted by a friend of ours stating his drunken intention to become the fourth member of the Fat and the Furious team. Jack and I were there, giving the FNF a quorum, so we asked how he intended to do that. He declared he would down a triple order of triple hashbrowns (yes, he intended to eat nine orders of hashbrowns). The giant plate of spuds arrived, ketchup was applied and about three bites were taken before he stated his next intention, which was to pass out.

It was a shame, as Waffle House hashbrowns are a terrible thing to waste. The food is basic, quick and tasty. Mom and Marty are brilliant at finding good places to eat and are used to good food, so Waffle House was a risk, but they seemed to enjoy it. Sometimes the basics are the best.

After a night’s sleep it was back on the road. There is very little between Little Rock and the Texas state line, and this stretch felt like the longest part of the trip. Crossing into Texas perked us up a bit, as the dull tree lines eventually yielded to impressive ranch mansions and the sites of Dallas. We were only a few short hours away.

As the last miles rolled by and the skies grew dark, I reflected on what was happening. My parents and friends would help me move, then either drive for fly back north. I wouldn’t be with them, though. I was staying, over 1,000 miles from where I had been living. I had no friends in Austin, and a few family members I hadn’t seen in 25 years, if at all. Was I making the right decision?  Would all of this work out?   I even said it out loud to myself once or twice, “I live in Texas now,” as if I were trying the words on to see if they fit. It felt pretty good, and I was anxious to see what the future would hold.

But we still had to get to Round Rock. As we passed Waco, then later Georgetown, we neared the hotel we would stay in for the night (the apartment office was closed by the time we made it to town so I couldn’t pick up the key until the next day). Coming around a curve on I-35 I saw ahead of me a police car that had someone pulled over on the right shoulder. I changed lanes to give them some room, as did Jack behind me in the Penske truck. As I did, the pickup truck in front of me checked up hard. Now it’s normal to slow down a bit, but this guy slammed on his brakes like he had just spotted a red light. I jammed on my brakes and the tires squealed. I looked in my rearview mirror and saw the Penske truck rapidly filling the mirror. You have to be kidding me, I thought to myself. We come all this way and wreck with only five miles to go? I braced myself, waiting to feel the crunch of a truck loaded with almost all my possessions hitting my only car. But the crunch never came. Somehow Jack managed to get the big truck stopped before he hit me.

I took a deep breath. I’d had my first close call, and it turned out all right. I decided to take it as a good sign as we rolled into the hotel parking lot. The next day I picked up my key from the apartment office and we moved my things into the new apartment. Mom and Marty would be staying with me for a few days, but the day after the move, I did have to drive Jack and Nick down to the Austin airport. They had to catch a flight back to Louisville. They’d been a great help and doing the move without them would have been a ridiculously tough task. Saying goodbye to them was even more difficult, though. There was no “see you next week,” or “we might be doing (x) this weekend, we’ll call you if we do,” and no more buzzed trips to Waffle House.It was just an open-ended goodbye.

While I am sure we’ll all hang out again in the future, and while we still talk on the phone and stay in touch via Facebook, etc., walking out of the Austin airport that day made me realize just how much I’d miss my friends.  I also felt another corner had been turned as I pulled onto I-35 North. It was time to head to my new home. 

Time for a Change

            In the end, it was actually an easy choice. Things simply had not been going well in the Louisville area for me. Truth be told, that had been the case for a few years.

            I had been laid off from work. The job market in Louisville was, in a word, abysmal. I had been through a string of bad relationships. This was simply not panning out. This blog, in which I wrote with such enthusiasm last spring and summer, fizzled out along with my feelings of self-worth. People asked me to write more, but I had a terrible time bringing myself to start typing. Each day I would fill out job applications online, send resumes, answer ads, make phone calls, and it all lead to a deafening wall of silence and apathy. The daily rejection of looking at my phone and seeing no calls, the logging in and seeing nothing but spam emails began to take its toll on the rest of my life. I felt my thoughts and ideas had no value, so I just stopped writing them down.

            This was no good. I had to do something. I had to start looking elsewhere. I had a near miss on a job in Las Vegas. That may not have changed my situation, but it gave me a bit of confidence that I had made it past a couple rounds of the selection process. It also gave me more incentive to look somewhere outside of the Ohio Valley for work. The question was, where should I look? I began to scour articles that ranked cities in America, and it wasn’t long before a pattern began to emerge. “Top 10 places to live,” “Top 10 growing job markets,” “Top 10 cities for the college educated,” list after list, Austin, Texas kept appearing.

            I decided the time was right. I began answering job postings in the Austin area, and before long, I had an interview. In a week I’d gotten more of a response than I had in months in Louisville. I booked a flight down to Austin and a hotel downtown. On a whim, I decided to stay a couple of days to get a bit of a feel for the place.

            Upon landing at the Austin airport, I immediately had a good feeling. Some places just have a vibe, and Austin’s seemed inviting to me. Despite the gray skies and rain falling that day I was comfortable. The attitudes of the locals may have had something to do with that. The area had been in a terrible drought for a year, and the rain was a big relief to them. They were also quick with advice about where I should go. I didn’t even have to ask (although I would have anyway), they were all quick to welcome me to town and give their thoughts on how I could have the best time possible while there. The woman at the rental car counter, the man standing next to me as we waited for our luggage to work its way down the conveyor belt, and the hotel desk clerk all gave recommendations. All three mentioned 6^th Street, of course, which I knew was the main drag of live music bars and clubs. I had done some scouting myself and had planned a trip to the University of Texas campus and to South Congress Street for a show at the Continental Club.

            I checked into my hotel, which was within a block or two of the impressive state capitol building, and right between campus and the 6^th Street complex. Perfect.

            I walked about a mile north to get a look at UT. As I expected, it was a beautiful campus. I strolled through the buildings, past the sports complexes and to the union. I headed across the street, grabbed a coffee from a non-megachain coffeehouse and sat down to people-watch. The weather had cleared up, people were out on the sidewalks and the area had that palpable feeling of energy that a college campus provides. I love that energy.

            After a couple of hours I made the walk over the hilly downtown area to 6^th Street.  This was a Monday night, so some of the clubs were closed and the ones that were open were far from busy, but it was still a good time. Even on a Monday, live music could be heard pouring out of the windows and from the rooftop beer gardens of the district.

            I had my interview in the morning, which went well enough that I spent a couple hours scouting potential apartments in the Round Rock suburb and talking to my stepfather on the phone about how well things were going. I could hear how happy he was for me in his voice, which was its own reward. Then, in the evening I had a real treat. I had a chance to spend the evening with my uncle, whom I had not seen in 25 years, and meet one of my cousins for the first time. Having a chance to hang out on South Congress Street having dinner and a few drinks with them was a real pleasure and the true highlight of the trip.

            The night capped off with a James McMurtry concert at the Continental Club. James was tremendous as always, and as I headed back to my hotel I reflected on the previous couple of days. I felt fortunate to be able to experience all I had seen in Austin. When my plane took off the next day, taking me back to Indiana, I had a strong feeling I would be back soon to stay. Thankfully, I was right. While the job I had interviewed for on that trip didn’t quite work out, another one did.

            I’ll be blogging more soon about the move and my early experiences down here in Texas.  Now that I’m getting settled in and feeling good, I feel like doing some writing again.