There are some basic rules of travel with me that Nezsa learned the Very Hard Way. One of them is, I have no useful sense of direction; two, I travel by landmark; and three, if I look like I'm paying attention, I'm probably NOT.
Think about that one. It comes in handy later. This is what I like to call Foreshadowing.
Okay, now you're ready to understand how it was I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It amuses me muchly.
Devin sent me a link to the correct place. Okay, so you'd think that would clarify things somewhat, and you'd be right if you were talking about, say, *anyone* else on the planet. Me, I opened, glanced, recognized the name, and said, ah! I know where that is! I'ts off IH35 besides that big building with the thingie on it! Anyone can find it!
Which it was, but let me get to the part that makes that meaningless.
After visiting a few people and so forth, we decided to go by the hotel around five-fiftish, as we were meeting at six thirty. I was armed with name and cell phone number. I said, IH35! Nezsa goes, but wasn't she going by the Arboreteum? Hmm, I answered thoughtfully. Let's call her, Nezsa suggests. I ignored that, because, I Am Dumb. Oh look, that hotel is in two places! I marvel. Nezsa gives me a Look. I cheerfully pretend she didn't.
We get inside, go to the front desk, give the name, ask to call up to the room.
No one answered.
Oh, they're not back yet (insert reason here). So leaving message, we traipsed outside to gossip about the reputations of mutual acquaintances. Um. Have a cigarette. Okay, I had a cigarette, Nezsa gossiped.
Right, we're getting to the fun part.
Around six-fifteen, tried the room again. No answer. Hmm. I could call on her cell, I said thoughtfully, revelation striking. Vannezsa looked at me like moron, as she had suggested this before, but I pretended she hadn't. Of course, neither of us had change.
Let's get change at the bar! Vannezsa says enthusiastically, pointing toward a very pretty bartender that, amazingly enough, does look like her current crush. Total coincidence, I think. And lo, there was a bar, and off she went, while I lurked behind plants studying couples who came around the area, keeping my careful image of Devin in mind the entire time. Now you'd think that'd be enough, but I was struck with a horrible suspicion that I had actually completely misremembered. That can't be her, she's Hispanic! Oh God, what if Devin's Hispanic and the pciture was overexposed?????? You get the idea. I can panic with the best of them.
Armed with change, we travel to the telephone and make the call. And wait! We're at the wrong hotel! We're supposed to be in the south one!
*sighs* Nezsa just LOOKED at me....
Anyway. I handed over the phone to Nezsa--remember what I said about how I locate things? Right. You see why she didn't trust me to do it. Devin put Mr. Moonshine on, so there was the endless amusement of two people who had only seconds before not know each other existed cheerily exchanging directions.
I'm really easy to entertain here.
So fifteen minutes later, we get to the correct hotel. By no fault of my own, we did in fact, finally meet up.
Dev's a blast and so is her husband. Seriously so. Being me, I checked my lipstick twice and mourned that my nailpolish had chipped in the shower before getting out, then worked myself into a case of serious jitters, so much so I didn't even see them, sure they'd spot us and run. Stupid polish. Because we all know, one's nailpolish does signal how well a meeting goes, you know? Right, glad we got that clear.
We all got drinks and sat down to decide where to eat. A significant amount of time later, Dev and I emerge from fannish discussion to realize two Very Important Things.
One, we are among the mundane and they might get bored with the gossiping on fandom soon, even though Nezsa understood the appeal of Lex, and Mr. Moonshine offered many an interesting discussion point.
Two, we were hungry.
So. Bennigans was decided on, as it was in walking distance, and we wandered over. Dev was on a quest for the perfect margarita, which honest to God, chica, there are good ones in Austin, I swear. We ordered and continued fannish talk, expanding to movies, Matrix, and the really, really perky waitress with a really high voice. The kind you almost want to ask to start smoking to bring it down an octave. Yes, I am mean.
Anyway, we all ordered drinks and I found My One True Drink--kind of like a really fancy milkshake with Godiva chocolate and strawberries in it. Yeah, I'm a wussy girl. And also? GO GET THIS. Dear God, it was good.
Dev tried for a strawberry margarita. Nezsa got the equivalent of an alcoholic slushie. Mr. Moonshine, being very manly, got a beer. And we relaxed, ordered, and considered the universe good.
Now, the Quest for the Margarita had just only begun. Keep this in mind as we continue. Because the margarita turned out to be a daquiri, and Dev stared at it mournfully. I'd tasted it (as left to my own devices, I'd drink nothing but frozen girly drinks like daquiris) and honestly, I should have guessed at the entire lack of tequila. Horror.
After eating, Nezsa and I had to run some errands, but planned to meet up with Dev after, so we arranged to call as soon as we were done and find out what Dev and Mr. Dev were doing.
So, skip ahead. Nezsa gets all dressy, since her internship has been killing her and she was ready for a night out. I was in jeans and a t-shirt and little ankle boots, my standard gear since around 1990. No, I don't resent that at all....
Nope. Not even now.
In the end, we decided to try fourth street and some of the bars there. Dev wanted her margarita, Nezsa wanted to show off her boots (grumble grumble) and I wanted to be reminded what it's like to have an active social life.
You know, while surrounded by teenybopper girls wearing what appeared to be string that apparenly really IS clothing. Huh. Never knew.
Parking was a new and terrifying adventure--just to point this out? Go early if you want to park within a mile of any place decent. We ended up at a pretty good place, and Nezsa ran into a friend who recommended we take Devin and Mr. Devin to Speakeasy, which is twenty-one and older, therefore, no underdressed teenyboppers. Instead, lots of underdressed professionals.
I need slut gear or something. *sighs*
So Devin tries for the THIRD time for a margarita.
The bartender says, none.
Yes. Seriously. They didn't have margaritas.
*scared* This is AUSTIN. No, we did not invent it, but we damn well serve it everywhere. Except, apparently, any place we took Dev. Horror. Dev ordered something pink, me and Nezsa took lemon shots and we all went upstairs to the terrace, where of course, we told Our Strangest Stories.
Okay, so Devin told hers, so I'll tell one of mine. My third boyfriend ended up with another guy. According to everyone who had ever met him even once, I was really clueless enough to think that anyone who offered to fix my hair before class probably was at very least AC/DC. *sighs more* I was NINETEEN. I am allowed to be clueless at that age!
Devin's drink was not-good and Mr. Devin got her something better, I took a little of Nezsa's beer, and we talked more.
And here I shall tell you the story I told Devin, which is so embarssing to Nezsa, but luckily, she doesn't know any of you and won't mind. *grins*
Once upon a time, I went clubbing with Nezsa and we were tired from a long damn week, so we decided just to have a couple of drinks and maybe go see a movie or something. Now, Nezsa is usually The Sober One, while I am the one who goes one drink beyond sobriety and gets--energetic. So we go to sixth street to the Daquiri Factory. By the name, you'd think, they only serve daquiris! And you'd be right. Basically, this is my place of alcoholic worship. Dozens of kinds. I picked my happy standby, the strawberry, because again, I have no imagination. If you want me to drink something new, you're going to have to be sneaky. I read up the list on ingredients while Nezsa chose, and I quote "the blue one".
The "blue one".
No, wait, there's more.
She drinks faster than I do, so I didn't notice until around three quarters through hers that she was getting that slightly glazed look I remembered from her birthday. The day we both got extremely drunk and made out with the same guy. Kind of. At different times, of course, as I prefer the dark backs of clubs and she prefers her driveway. Hmm, I said, mulling this. What could this be? Ah yes, the "blue one".
The blue one. The one with everclear in it.
Leading her out, I watch her walk really normally, and think, okay, maybe it's alright. We'll hang out here for an extra hour to clear her system before we start walking back to the car. No biggie. How strong could it be if she didn't even notice it when she was drinking?
"Let's go dancing!" she says, pointing to a hip-hop club only feet away. I gaze at it with a sense of impending doom.
In other words, Nezsa was Very Tipsy. Because my girl DOES NOT VOLUNTEER TO DANCE. Not with guys, not without them, not sober, not in her right mind. It's happened, but it always requires the help of something proofed.
Slowly, I followed her in with a vague sense of dread, as I could see where this was going to go.
Taking a deep breath, I let her drag me onto the floor. Blah blah blah, guys appear and do their gropy thing, I'm sober enough to be uncomfortable with mauling of any place a normal bikini would cover, and Nezsa suddenly gets a wild spurt of energy, so I was dragging Guy 1 around in a subtle attempt to keep her in view while her Guy 2 hit her energy level and do people have to work with this when *I'm* drunk?
An hour and a half later, Guy 2 got more gropy, and lo, it was seriously time to go. Guy 2 was Very Unhappy at having Energizer Bunny Girl dragged away (and she won't admit it, but she wasn't exactly easy to get out of there), but I was Designated Spoilsport for the night.
That's my third favorite alcohol story. The second I will tell another day.
Dev snickered at us. *narrows eyes* Just wait 'til we get you drunk, chica. Just wait. I will RECORD if I have to so as to get good stories.
Anyway, we had to leave early--Child is still upset about me not being here after school. We said goodbye to Dev and Mr. Dev and they, I think, did finally find a decent margarita (did you?) and had other adventures.
*grins* And that, in a nutshell, was Saturday night. Now I shall try and persuade everyone to come to Austin to help Dev find a good margarita. *nod*