Mardi Gras and Texas Blues: On the Road Part III

The weather in New Orleans was horrible for Fat Tuesday. Winds whipping in on Canal Street made me feel like I was in Austin for the wind storm, with shit flying everywhere and getting into my eyes. Traffic barricades were getting tossed around like dolls and I was wondering how much of the biggest party in America was going to be spent in my hotel room hiding from the rain. The winds died down a bit, enough for me to hit up the Two Sisters, but the rain ensured I spent an entire afternoon in a hotel room that had more space than it knew what to do with, but with some of the worst water pressure I've ever had the pleasure of encountering. Then I managed to hit the street to go on a run of the gay bars in NOLA. I hit a snag when I tried to go to my first one where some self-appointed bouncers gave me their best impression of what I like to call the "straight stare" when I made the move to enter the bar, so I walked on. Call it paranoia, call it anxiety, I moved on and when to the two Lafitte's and had a blast people-watching in the oldest gay bar in America. I ended my Mardi Gras the way all Americans do: by paying way too much money for mediocre food but was far too drunk to care. I was too hungover to even think about grabbing some beignets, and just headed on to Houston. The traffic was atrocious until about an hour from the state line as I was but one of many people heading west on I-10 after Mardi Gras.

Houston is a complex of concrete, a insanity of interstates, and home to some of the best food in America. One of the consequences of Mardi Gras for me was a sharp increase in let's say stomach discomfort as a result of the smoking light turning on in my head. So out of all of the great eateries of Houston, I managed to conquer only one and spent an entire afternoon recovering. I cannot emphasize enough how hostile Houston is to human life. It seems impossible to get anywhere without a car, and I can confirm that assumption about this city. Even waiting for an Uber felt hard to do sometimes with the lack of sidewalks. One night was spent at a cool little place called the Black Magic Social Club, the other at Poison Girl in the Montrose neighborhood, but I spent far more time than I would have liked in my hotel room or at the Katy mall waiting for my car to get maintenance completed. The people here were great; an exact inverse of the concrete monster that surrounded us on all sides. The trip to one of Texas' big cities was kind of a wash, but all lessons are valuable. No travel is wasted. Unless you're going to Nebraska.

Austin, Texas. Beloved blueberry in an evil tomato soup; home to some of the best barbecue in the world. Ask any Austinite and they'll tell you that the best food is in Lockhart, about an hour away. I love this place. The food, the people, even the relative lack of walkability is welcoming to me. Reminds me a little of home, even if I will never go back there. Even the heart of downtown Austin was more navigable than Houston, and I managed to get in a good walk around the lake with 3 (three) names. A bartender at one of the gay bars in town gave me his dinner. I'm in love and I don't even remember his name. We'll have a fall wedding. My second day, I spent all of my time out near 6th street until the many, many trees of Austin released their evil yellow green dust into the air and made my time outside unbearable. I had to retreat back to my hotel room.

Even amidst all of this beauty, the weather is getting worse out there. Numerous bills have been filed in the legislature building located in this open city, the blueberry in a roiling sea of evil, that declare some form of fraud and evil to be trans in Texas. I haven't shaved the entire time I've been in Texas as part of a protection method. That, the ink, and the metal gear I wear a ton have done a great job of putting up a shield from the psychos out there. But. It should not have to be this way. Nothing should. Evil is on the march, and no one wants to stop it until I and other trans people have been crushed beneath its treads.