Tex-Mex: it’s weird.

Despite my interesting and exciting series of events at Uncle Julio’s, the food, however, was the low point of the experience. In my confusion and panic at what I had just gotten myself into with the free drink I’d been offered, I really just ordered the first thing that came to mind–same with the drink.

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My free margarita, courtesy of the ladies

So I ordered the Carnitas Azteca plate. It came with beans, rice, tortillas, and a side dish of cheese, guacamole, and sour cream. The bartender had also brought me chips and salsa (I miss those SoCal restaurants that do that! Never see it in the Bay Area.)

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Swingin’ down at Uncle Julio’s

I couldn’t even think about drinking tap water in the hotel after that incident. I immediately headed out, wandering down 6th street but finding most places still crowded with drunk college kids. It wasn’t as bad as Friday night, but still crowded enough that I felt little desire to take the plunge and enter any of the open bars and restaurants.

By then it was close to 9 o’clock. The day had rained off and on; it was still muggy, and every now and then it began to drizzle. I wandered down to other areas closer to where Atlassian had been, figuring it was best to get away from 6th St if I wanted to get away from the college kids.

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The wet streets while wandering

I kept walking, finding myself facing two options: a steakhouse or a place called Uncle Julio’s. Considering I earlier had Texas BBQ for lunch, it seemed that I had to give a Tex-Mex restaurant a shot.

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Intermission: As they say…

Jumped on the scale this morning. Numbers weren’t pretty.

As they say, everything is bigger in Texas. My fat ass certainly got bigger while there.

And now that I am back to San Francisco, I can return to my kale, quinoa, and chia seed routine we’re all so well known for.

(I can be a bit cheeky sometimes, I know.)

Tacos, Voodoo, & Drunks-Oh my!

My elevator ride down is yet again slowed by another drunk kid who thinks pressing all the buttons is funny. The group is wholly obnoxious and loud as one would expect. The only surprise was spotting the one sober individual in the group; he gave me a sad sheepish face and whispers, “I’m sorry.”

I wanted to check out the sportsbar first as I was worried I wouldn’t find much open this late (11:45pm). Instead the employees have closed up shop early. So much for the information from the receptionist who checked me in. Out it is!

I end up following the group of drunks from the elevator and see the street we’re on runs into 6th street. Barricades are up ahead to keep it pedestrian traffic only. The revelry at 6th St reminds me of Mardi Gras. It’s unfathomable to me that this could be the norm. I feel as if I am about to witness a live production of COPS or Campus PD.

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Checking in to Austin

SuperShuttle was slow, making me regret not just finally downloading Lyft and calling a ride. I spoke with a woman from Lansing, MI who was in town for a conference. It wasn’t the same as mine; it was a medical something or other. For a while it was just her and I in the van, and then finally our driver returned with two more passengers.

As we left the airport and neared downtown, where all four of us were staying, I began to wonder what kind of a ride I was in for. Though it was dark and late (close to 11pm at that point), downtown had this frenetic vibe that I was not used to nor expecting.

Sure, I had spent some time in the Castro, visiting bars and clubs with friends during my college days, and I had been to a few college parties–but this? This took it to a Bacchanalian level. Combined with the humidity, it felt feverish.

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