And Lucinda was just a small part of everyone and everything we saw at SXSW. Slobberbone. Junior Brown. Autumn Defense. Billy Joe Shaver. Ryan Adams. Sarah Harmer. Oh, Sarah. I stood next to the stage and sang right along with her.
And we can't forget my new girlfriend, Greta Gaines. Allison and I were like schoolgirls when we went to talk to her. I think we managed to stutter - You're really good. She handed us CDs and said that if we opened them up she'd sign them for us. We were like rabid hamsters we ripped the plastic off so fast. To Hannah -Rock. Shred. Stay Sweet. But she had a black hat and a tiny leather skirt and boots. And a red shirt and blonde hair and I adore her.
Greta, (yeah, you know I'm on first names with my girlfriend, right?) invited us to her acoustic showcase the following day where she was still sexy in leather. It was just more acoustic leather. This was the second party of the festival where we got free beer. This time, however, I didn't have 15.
The first private party we went to was on Wednesday. It was outside and the weather was amazing. Is there anything better than standing in the sunshine, drinking drafts and listening to live music? That's what I thought. And I was with two boys whose ability to drink far outpaces mine. Which meant I was double-fisting practically the entire four or so hours we were there. Later we tried to figure how many trips to the bar we each took, so we could get some kind of guesstimate. I think we gave up around a dozen.
The New West party was where I got introduced
to Slobberbone. While they may tour
in Europe, they don't seem to like Ohio. The closest they come is Chicago,
and while I'd love to go up and see them, I'm not that impulsive. (And since
Al, AB and I almost got mowed down in
the street, right in front of them, I think I need to put a little distance
between me and the boys of the Bone.)
On Saturday Allison and I went hat shopping, and not only did I get the kicking-assest
hat ever, I got boots on the cheap. Of course that meant I had to wear them
home on the plane (the hat AND the boots mind you) so I was kicking ass and
taking names all the way from AUS to the ATL to CMH. And when I was running
to my connecting flight in Atlanta, some older man told me to "slow
down, sweetheart. You're here, everything's gonna be okay." Then
he turned to the gate agent and told them to bump his wife up to first class
as he gently grabbed me by the elbow. Unfortunately (fortunately?) first class
was full. And the last thing he said to me was, Like
the hat, honey.
And I ate Mexican food and drove an hour outside the city for barbecue, the likes of which I haven't tasted since I moved away. Just walking into the Salt Lick brought back memories of Sunday afternoons when we'd have lunch at Strack Farms after church. When I was a little girl it was still a working farm, and while you waited for a table you could sit outside on fence post and watch the steers graze. A little morbid, in retrospect.
I did start feeling ill with the Austin Fevah on Saturday afternoon, but I persevered. Couldn't miss the Sarah Harmer, after all. Ran into the Texan and Be Rad at her show. Everyone got to meet them, and it wasn't as weird as I thought it would be. It was fairly normal, actually.
I did, however, have to bail out before The Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash, and this makes me sadder than you'll ever know. I was the one who championed their inclusion on the spreadsheet. And I wimped out. Then again, I couldn't breathe.
There was a moment of panic when we thought we were locked out of the garage I'd parked the rental in. I almost became a big girl and came very close to stomping my booted heel and whining - You figure out how to get in. I'm staying here. Even though I'm fucking freeeeezing. In the end, we did have to walk up the entrance ramp. Good thing I parked on Level Dos.
Sunday morning brought the rain. Austin
was in a fit of tears over my departure. Because, y'all? I may not live in
Texas, but Texas wants me anyway. And after seeing me in that hat, I can safely
say, Texas wants me BAD.
