For some reason, the day before my birthday, I decided that all I wanted to do was listen to Lionel Richie and go to Barton Springs. I chose to swim because I didn’t want to be consumptive, you know, eating and drinking, getting bloated on birthday fare. I wanted to earn my ale–and fight–to some extent, our American conditioning to just sit and consume…So, the next day, we did just that. Lifted weights and told Vanessa we were going swimming.
Getting there is still a chore, by comparison. Putting on earbuds, sinking into the couch, and scrolling online with high carb snacks is SO much easier to do. We had to shower, dress, drive, and find a parking spot—not to mention “walk the plank” to submerge ourselves into ice-cold agua. So much prep for a sublime glide underwater.
Well, I hi-fived Vanessa when we made it to the car. That was the hardest part—making it to the car to head to the Springs. Upon arrival, we walked past a topless woman and the classic view of dark green water and Austin’s Skyline. We played Lionel Richie on the way there, and played more at the pool. I wanted soft rock and a cold-dip-vibe for my birthday.
Well, during our swim, we witnessed two saves by diving lifeguards after being open for just 30 minutes. Third leap was a false alarm because the guards were jumpy. “Come on, people,” one lifeguard said in jest. “It’s just Thursday for crying out loud!”
We toweled off, left, and headed to Magnolia Café for some Austin diner fare. Mediocre food but nostalgic. Had to witness the Mother Hen closing server harass an older waitress who was new.
We headed home. Vanessa told me she was taking me somewhere new—for a drink. That is, if I still wanted to go…Of course I wanted to go! I was very tired but gung-ho. We went home, showered, and got back in the car for our date night.
While listening to Lionel, we drove right by the same diner, but parked across the street. I was confused. Then I realized she was taking me to a blues bar next door. “C-Boy’s.” When we walked in, every light was neon red. The Blue Vinyl Crates were playing and knocked our doors off…I was jamming. I needed that live show bad and I needed to be waited on with some frosties. The waitress, named Tori, told us there was another bar upstairs called the Jade Room. Two blues musicians were finishing up their set there, too.
Then I looked to my right. A famous painting of Freddie King with an armadillo flying through his chest like a gunshot spraying blood was five feet from me. A few weeks before, I had read an article about that very painting almost lost in an auction. It once hung in one of Austin’s most famous bars called “Rome’s Inn.” That’s another story.
After the Crates finished their set, Vanessa and I decided to head up to the Jade Room. Nothing could have prepared me for the ambiance: a blues bar á la opium den. I love this shit, I said.
We talked to the bluesmen as they packed up to leave and then toyed with the jukebox. At about 12:30am, Vanessa urged me to go sit at the bartop. At that very—and I mean very—moment, the bartender, via her cellphone, played Lionel Richie on the speakers…Vanessa and I were in disbelief. But that wasn’t our only surprise.
Minutes later a rock star walks in…The lead singer of —-----. We introduced ourselves and had a ball. And get this—it was only Vanessa and I and —-- and his girl in the upper room, chatting, laughing, taking pictures in a bar drenched with red light…
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