Across Continents

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Austin at last

Austin, I’d heard as far back as Alaska, was very liberal. Arty. In a State which, I’d a cunning idea, was ever so slightly Republican. I’d also set my soul on reaching a not-for-profit travellers hostel in the city in time for Christmas. Not wishing to spend the day alone. Meal-for-one quite unappealing.

I’d made it. Just. Christmas Eve. It’d been a struggle. Cold and wet. Bearable during the day. But after dark the temperature had dropped considerably, and I’d been slow to don my extra layers. Too eager to press on.

Eventually realising my mistake, I’d spotted a gas station and a chance to use the restroom and reinvigorate spirits. But dismayed to notice an adjacent Laundromat. Often an indicator of the wrong part of town. Quickly spotting a few dubious characters milling around outside. Onward.

Soon in a smarter suburbs, then onto Congress Avenue. Over a wide bridge into the city proper. Skyscrapers. Ahead the State Capitol Building. Majestic under its floodlights. A few miles left. Rain easing a little.

Another gas station. This time better placed. Parking my trusty steed close up by the door. Persuading the assistant to let me use the supposedly out of order restroom. A few purchases. Then removing my wet outer garments in the shelter of the entrance way, donning my fleece for much needed warmth.




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