Truesday: The Yearly Usual

*The views expressed in Truesday are those of the author and do not represent Austinist as a whole. Thank heavens.* -The Editors

It’s a tough bet, Austin in the summer. Spitting salt when you talk from the sweat that’s trickling down the sides of your nose and into your ‘stache. Showering in your shirt to get the dankness of the sun spank out of it. Walking out to get your mail and passing out on your driveway from acute dehydration. Pit stains and swamp ass.

Yeah, there are some drawbacks. Beyond the swamp ass.

But there’s a beauty to it as well.

Ever smelled the sweetish aroma of a lawn sprinkler as it mists in the high heat of the day? The smell of that hose, the faucet water as it pulls the boil from the searing air and wets the hay-like ground? It’s like a gift to your face, from the City Of Austin Utilities.

That smell helps me forget, as I tool around in my automated cart machine, that the sun wants my internal organs to combust.

Two windows down, with an arm hanging out the driver’s side. Round about the roundabout on Riverside by Long. One ear has an iPod dripping down from it because the radio’s shot, but having both buds in place combines with the oppressive air temp and makes me feel too confined. Like a coffin of boiling music. A blazing cocoon of last year’s not-hot list. Tunes of was-hot which are no longer the now-hot that targets the aged and baby-like. So, so, so crippling, and the back of my seat is damp from my body’s tears.

But there’s a smile on my face. A goddamned smile. Why? Because.

A random jorted bro on a fixey rides up in front. I’m doing 20 in Red Rocket, taking the round real lazy like, so dude’s hauling some serious ass. Bedecked in thin white rim glasses, pink walled front rubber, and keys jangling off a carabiner. Dubious facial hair looking more like the Philippine Islands than Black Metal. Keys double jangle as he pops a curb and breaks onto the sidewalk that runs along the east end of Long, following the curve around to Barton. Heading toward the Sno Cone stand on that desolate cement patty where The Filling Station used to serve some of the most embarrassingly mediocre food ever pretended upon a plate, I can tell that the jortbro doesn’t give a shit about the heat.

Bet he’s off to Barton Springs. I smile.

It’s 100+ out there, but my back-sweat’s got me jealous of Springs-bound dude, ESPECIALLY since he’s out in the sun. Poppin’ curbs with absurd facial hair. Probably gonna prop that smugster bike against the east entrance fence of the springs and lock it up with two kryptos like THIS IS MY BIKE, BITCH. Probably gonna put three cubes of ice in a bandanna underneath that Mao cap. Probably gonna crack three Lonestar tallboys later, before the evening sun flings a final farewell finger to the horizon.

Probably gonna make me cry.

And crying makes me think.

Other than Barton Springs and iced tallboys, there are more options to avoid the heat plague and truly enjoy the Austin summer. Seriously.

Stacy Pool.

Listen, while all those other cats are profiling and searching for who brought the smokeables at all the other dried water holes about town, you’ll be kickin’ it with all your favorite brosephs and brostephanies in this little Travis Heights gem. Don’t let the homeless looking dudes nearby fool you. They own those houses. And those houses are stupid expensive.

Walk-in beer cooler at Whole Foods.

I know I’ve mentioned this before, but it bears repeating. Yes, the place is priced as if everyone inside deuces gold bricks, but you don’t need to be pulling AIG bonuses to afford a stroll through what I prefer to refer to as Beer Oz. You don’t even need to front like you have money. Just look like you work there [broke]. But, and trust me on this: no matter what stage of overheating you may be experiencing, DO NOT put any of the beer in your pants. None of your explanations will be flattering.

The Capitol.

With the special session out of the way, there’s got to be less hot air in that piece. Man, politics makes for such a steady target. BOOYEAH!