Houston Part 3: The Importance of Being Earnest . . . Errr Not a Prick

There is 1 immutable rule when traveling: Don't be a prick.

If you follow this one rule everything will fall into place.  The locals will be more friendly, the tips you get will be better, and your overall experience will be greatly enhanced.  This is the baseline for starting a good trip, whether it's a weekend excursion, a four day blow-out, a week long get away, or a half year escape from all responsibilities and decencies.  

It must be remembered that everywhere you go while on vacation you are a guest, so act accordingly.  This, not being a prick attitude, will be the difference between the locals wanting to show you, Traveler Joe/Jane, the hidden hot spots of the city, or eyeing the sketchy stranger suspiciously (that's you, prick) from across the bar.  

And with the stage set, the story of the last night in Houston begins.

We (Dan, Eric, and myself) began our day in Houston by meeting with an old friend of mine, Sarah, at a delightful place called the Hobbit Cafe.  It was an entirely J.R.R. Tolkien decorated hovel that had an incredibly cozy feel.  We were joined by Sarah's own personal hobbit, which gave the cafe an even more authentic feel.  It was delightful, it was fun, it made me appreciate parents (especially in public), and it was entirely unremarkable.

We said our farewells to Sarah and Frodo and headed on our way to explore the city.  The day continued with a series of unremarkable events(of which I will remark upon in a section called 'Unremarkable Remarks'), and as the day dwindled we returned to Dan and Eric's Hotel to plan for our last night in Houston.

Bucky Badger standing regally above Houston.  He was spread throughout the city; guiding us, watching over us, protecting us.

After careful deliberation, we decided to find a bar near the hotel and make the best of it.  We were searching for a near beer, if you will.  I carefully selected an establishment by searching for 'bar' in google maps and off we went.  I had apparently selected 'warehouse in the darkest, most murdery part of Houston' instead of 'bar', because that's where the cab took us.  The cabbie was kind enough to allow us to remain in the cab and not get murdered.  He suggested a local place called 'Cedar Creek' that he assured us was 'cool'.  With such a stellar recommendation we were pumped and primed to hit the night.

The place turned out to be awesome.  It was a very cool indoor/outdoor vibe with an actual creek (I'm assuming the Cedar Creek) flowing through the expansive outdoor seating area.  It was a super friendly local spot (much respect kindly cabbie).  It did not take us long to start schmoozing up the locals.  With a smile on our faces and an alcohol fueled sociability we chatted up bartenders and patrons alike. 

We met two local Houstonian mavens, who educated us about the inner workings and history of Houston.  We learned, we laughed, we drank a lot of booze.  During the chat I decided it was time to explore the rest of the establishment.  

I moved 10 feet down the bar and chatted up two lady types. They were attractive, quite nice, and soon they had assimilated into our rag tag group of party people.

Fun is perhaps the most contagious condition that one can contract.  If you are having fun, those around you will be drawn to you and vice versa.  We were nice, we were having fun, and we were clearly from out of town.  

The locals regaled us with stories of the bar, the neighborhood, and local drink specialties.  I attribute this warmth to not being a prick, we were clearly fish out of water, but we embraced it, were respectful, and were having fun, so the Houstonians adopted us for the night.

One of the bartenders was kind enough to create an artistic rendition of our little group.   However, it is of an adult rendition of our group, so in order to keep this post PG-13 it has been censored for inclusion.

An artistic interpretation of our rag-tag group of party people by a Cedar Creek bartender/artist.  

  

At midnight the bar closed and we were invited to travel with our new companions to a local joint down the road.  We shared stories, I saw a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles tattoo, and we all made some Facebook friends.  It was Facebook Officially a great end to a great trip to Houston.

Houston Part 2: The Paradox of Choice

Houston Part 2: The Paradox of Choice

I left for Houston following a whirlwind cleaning and packing of my apartment in Columbus, Georgia.  A few days prior I had estimated what I would need for my road trip and put the rest of my belongings into storage.  My planning had worked out (surprisingly) well and I jammed the rest of my personal effects into my small SUV.  I left my house sleep deprived, smelling of bleach (and a little high from the industrial strength cleaning products), and ready to get the hell out of Dodge . .  .err Columbus. 

 I was in optimal driving condition

Twelve hours, a can of Copenhagen Wintergreen, a nondescript packaged meat product, and 2 gallons of caffeinated products later I arrived in Houston.  I was riding an adrenaline (and caffeine) high, but I was more than a little apprehensive for these 3 reasons: 

First, a mild onset of caffeine induced paranoia coupled with dehydration and the coffee jitters had set in. 

Second, before my arrival, the cronies I was to meet with that night had battled the city of Houston and had been defeated.  And with the cavalry (that's me) only minutes away . . . had they but known . . .  So, I was to be alone when I entered the city.

Third, I was staying in a hostel for the first time.  To be honest, I didn't know that hostels were a thing in the U.S. until I scoped the stay in Houston.  I had no idea what the experience was going to be like.  I read some good reviews for the place I was staying (The Morty Rich Hostel - Hosteling International - Houston, TX), which helped put me at ease.  Still, I was alone in a strange land staying with a group of strangers.  The hostel turned out to be fine.  There were lockers in the room to lock up my gear and the beds were bunked, but adequately spaced to allow for freedom of maneuver.  The bathroom was attached and everything was clean.  Good enough for the first night, but not a place that puts a mind at ease.

By the time I had settled in it was 11:30 PM, so I decided to wander around the neighborhood a bit and get a feel for the city.  A friend of mine had given me an impressively extensive breakdown of the city and one of his favorite joints, called the Hay Merchant, was a couple of blocks away.  I entered it into my phone and set off for my first Houston bar.

A short walk later I entered the Hay Merchant.  It was chill, moderately sized, with a fair amount of people.  It was midnight on a Friday, prime bar time, and it was comfortably full, but no where near packed.  I walked up to the bar and took a look at the blackboard style beer list, and was pleased to find one my favorites among the 30-40 beers listed (Petrus Aged Pale, a recommendation for those with an adventurous palette).  I grabbed a seat, took a sip, and the negative effects of sleep deprivation and caffeine overindulgence hit me with a vengeance.

I sat there with my stomach turning, both exhausted and artificially energetic, and felt irrationally uncomfortable.  I was twitching, sitting by myself, and the Badger game was the next day.  So I chugged my beer and quickly left with my tail snugly tucked between my legs.

The next morning I woke up early and decided to go for a little run to explore the neighborhood.  Shoes laced, music queued, and short shorts pulled up high, I hit the street.  However, I did not take my phone with me, a decision I would soon regret.  

*First Hard Learned Lesson of Traveling Alone: Always bring your phone in an unfamiliar neighborhood, no matter what the activity.*

 I was feeling pretty good when I set off, a little dehydrated, but the after effects of the caffeine overdose had worn off.  I ran up the road I drove in on, passing a few bars and restaurants that looked familiar.  I came to the end of the neighborhood and decided to follow the loop around.  I was generally aware of the direction I had to travel to make it back to hostel, so I took the turn without a second thought.  Shortly after I ran into a school complex that looked like a prison for children.  It was approximately 800 meters long and surrounded by 12 foot high razor wire (at least that's the way I'll always remember it).  By the time I got to the end of mini internment camp I was in a neighborhood, but I felt confident in my navigational skills so I kept on running.  

When my watch hit 30 minutes I was tired, sick of running, and lost as hell, so I started walking.  I resigned myself to walk for 2 minutes and then sprint for a minute, a technique that we call 60/120s in the biz, and tried to navigate myself back.  I walk/sprinted around the skyline, under an overpass, around a park, and past the same restaurant 3 times.  Eventually I resigned myself to ask for directions.  I was very discerning in my selections, looking only for locals.  One guy was running, one girl was walking her dog, and another was carrying groceries.  I picked 3 distinctive land marks to ask about: 1.)The Hostel, 2.)Hay Merchant (recommended so I figured people should know of it) and 3.) Uchi (the Houston version of the best restaurant in Austin).  It felt like a can't miss approach to find my way back.  It missed.  Every person stared at me like I had asked how to get to Europe by way of motor-carriage.  They were confused, curt, and completely unhelpful.

Houston is a city that suffers from the paradox of choice.  The paradox of choice is a theory which was advanced by an American psychologist Barry Schwartz.  Part of the theory states that the more choices a person has the more miserable they are due to a number of different factors (being overwhelmed, fear of missing out, regret over what was chosen vs. what wasn't etc.).  Houston is huge and the choices are abundant.  In order to deal with the enormity of choices available each neighborhood/block has become self contained.  There is cool stuff to do everywhere, but there is no one social center.  Therefore, in order to counteract the negative effects of the paradox of choice, the Houston in which each Houstonian lives is incredibly small.

So, when I asked these Houstonians about places 8 block away I may as well been asking them where the Old Fashioned was located in Madison, Wisconsin.  I was forced to rely on an old friend to get me through: blind, dumb luck.  Eventually I found a bar I recognized and was able to make my way back to my hostel.  My 30 minute run turned into a 30 minute run with a 45 minute sprint workout.  I had overachieved quite extraordinarily.  I showered, threw on my game day attire and set off to find a coffee.

I found a coffee shop, but arrived at a revelation first.  Everybody in the Montrose neighborhood (or nearly so) has a dog, but nobody carries a doggie bag for leavings.  You would think, given these two bits, that there would be dog shit everywhere . . . and you would be correct.  There was dog poop everywhere.  I stepped in poop twice, before I realized that I was in a veritable minefield of dog poo.  My training taking over, I deftly started identifying the doggie bombs, made deliberate, decisive movements, and safely made my way to the coffee joint then back to my hostel without a third incident.

From the hostel I left for the game.  The story of which can be found in my previous post (Houston Part 1: Badgers in Tigerland).

Post game, dejected but willing to rally (recap: the Badgers lost), we made our way to the Hay Merchant.  The Hay Merchant took on a whole different appeal with a small group (and without suffering from caffeine induced paranoia/tremors).  It was a perfect little neighborhood joint.  Small enough to enjoy the conversation of a small, intimate group (our conversation was an extended lament of the Badgers performance), but large and inviting enough to foster interaction between groups.  We met some newscasters and cameramen from a local TV station and had a lovely chat.  We called it a night shortly after and each headed back to our respective dwellings for the night.

End of Part 2.

When I said Houston would be a 2 part entry I lied, it will be 3 parts.  This concludes part 2 of the Houston trilogy.  Tomorrow's entry will include hobbits, pictures, the Galleria, amateur art, and the kindness of strangers.

Take away from Houston days 1 and 2: Montrose is trendy and covered in dog poop, you (probably) won't get murdered in an American hostel, and caffeine is a hell of a drug. 

Houston Part 1: Badgers in Tigerland

The Houston experience can be neatly divided into 2 even chunks:  

Part 1: The Badger Game and Part: 2 Everything Else.

So begins part 1 . . . 

Before I start I feel that I must make an observation that permeated throughout the entire trip.  Houston feels empty.  Everywhere felt decidedly uninhabited.  The social scenes, the bars, the hip neighborhoods and the trendy malls all seemed lacking in people.  I heard it explained to me as such: Houston is huge.  Not necessarily dense, but geographically expansive.  So, any city center/social hub would be incredibly inconvenient for so many that no place really emerged as the "social center".  There were cool trendy neighborhoods that we came across (Montrose and Midtown come to mind), but they seemed under utilized and a little to small to be considered a true social hub.

This being said the brilliantly named NRG Stadium (reread it and give yourself a minute to let the punderful name sink in) had the same feel.  We arrived at the game approximately 5 hours before kickoff and the lot seemed about a quarter full.  It still felt empty right up to the start of the game.  Wisconsin was represented well, but make no mistake, Houston is an LSU town.  There were easily 3 LSU fans tailgating for every 1 Badger.  I ended up buying a ticket for the game at the tailgate and here was my view.

I was deep in enemy territory, but more on the game later.

I would first like to address the fundamental differences between a Big Ten Tailgate (the entire big ten will be represented by Wisconsin in this comparative study) and an SEC tailgate (represented here by LSU).

*Quick note on the breakdown, this will not include bars, only unlicensed parties thrown by the people, for the people. 

Tailgating Breakdown:

Wisconsin Photo Courtesy of: http://lettersinbottles.blogspot.com/
LSU Photo Courtesy of: http://sportselitists.blogspot.com/

Here's a quick breakdown of the Big Ten.  The Big Ten has interpreted the tailgate as an outside party, during the day.  Vaguely reminiscent of a giant block party.  Typically there will be outdoor games such as bags (or cornhole for the filthy mouthed), beer pong, multi-storied multiple person beer bongs and other such staples of a college house party.  The food served is usually limited to burgers and brats that were purchased the morning of.  A Big Ten tailgater will get the majority their daily sustenance from beer.  Hard liquor will be available, but not prevalent.  The had liquor selection is restricted to whatever bottles party guests bring from their house or whatever the house has left over from the party the night before.  Most of the tailgaters throw it together the morning of by grabbing beer, easily prepared food (not always present), cups, and ping pong balls.  There are a select few who start preparing the night before with some additional food items, jello shots, and hard liquor mixers, but they are definitely the exception not the rule.  Big take away, a Big Ten tailgate is a party.

Now quick look at the SEC.  The SEC has classed up the tailgate.  They have interpreted the tailgate as an event.  Each tailgate spot is distinct.  The group of tailgaters have usually been tailgating for years and have a floor plan for how the set up is going to be.  Tables will be set up for food, TVs connected to satellite dishes will be erected, chairs will be spread throughout and tents will be placed in a manner that will maximize the flow.  Years have been spent getting the set up just right.  They begin the setup a day (or in some cases days) in advance.  Each tailgate has multiple different types of food prepped before they set off to erect their party tent.  An example of the food spread would be BBQ, shrimp jambalaya, multiple deserts on a table, a vast array of pre-made sides, veggies, and snacks, a fully stocked liquor selection with mixers, beer in coolers and perhaps a keg.  Outdoor games, such as bags, are as ubiquitous as at a Big Ten tailgates, however you will find less beer pong tables.  Big take away, an SEC tailgate is an event.

How do they compare, and who the hell do I think I am trying to judge these two?  Well I went to Wisconsin, I have been to 2 LSU games (and a few other SEC games) and I spent the last year deep in the heart of SEC country on the Georgia-Alabama line, 30 minutes from Auburn.  I understand that it's not a plethora of SEC experience, but it doesn't take much experience to get the vibe.  First off, both are awesome, and just a ridiculous amount of fun.  Second, I am biased; I was raised with the Big Ten style, and God damn it I love it.  Third, rowdy farmers market?  What the hell do I mean by that?  

Picture each tailgate crew at an SEC game as a stand at a farmers market.  You can easily tell the stalls apart, and based on the the appearance you have a pretty good idea what their serving up, but it's impossible to get the full picture just by looking.  In order to get admittance to each individual tailgate you must talk to one of the core members in order to get approval to hang.  It's possible to lurk, but then you're just a creepy dude hanging out with everyone glaring and the farmer wondering whether you're here to steal his goods.   In order to partake in the tailgate you must find a core member.  You'll end up asking the exact same questions you would to a stall proprietor at a farmers market, "When did you guys get here to set up?  What is the delightful smell?  How do you make the ___ taste so goll dang good?"  So, on and so forth.  Needless to say, you will be genuinely interested (especially as a big tenner) in the answers, but these are the formalities to hang with this one group.  Most SEC tailgaters are super nice and accepting.  I have never had an experience where they haven't given me a plate of food, a beverage, invited me to stay, and introduced me to the group.  However, this style of tailgating makes it harder to flow throughout the tailgating scene.  A person will find themselves hanging at a tailgate with a new bunch of best friends for the entire tailgate.  

The Big Ten tailgate is completely different.  It is completely fluid.  It is impossible to tell the difference between one group of tailgaters and another.  This is where the house party analysis comes in.  Imagine that everyone tailgating is part of one big house party, each group of tailgaters adds booze and surface area to the overall party, but they aren't apart from the party as a whole.  At a big ten tailgate you will see people moving freely from one booze source to the next without being questioned.  It's free flowing, super relaxed, and highly social.  Random dude off the street can call next game of beer pong and based on immutable house party rules that dude, who nobody knows, is up next.  At a Big Ten tailgate you'll see a funnel in the distance and find yourself wandering 4 blocks to see if there's a line for the 4 story beer bong.  When you get there the beer bong proprietor will fill it up for you and down the hatch it goes.

Quick note on game attire:  

SEC: Visor, polo, khaki shorts/pants for the men and a dress/skirt combo for the ladies. 

Big Ten: Baseball hat, T-shirt/Sweatshirt, Jeans for every man, woman, and child.  

That's the gist.  Both are great, but I prefer the Big Ten style.  In the Big Ten Style the whole is much greater than the sum of it's parts.  In the SEC style each part is stellar, but they don't really compound on one another.  It's a pick your poison scenario where the only side effect will be a righteous time.

Back to Houston . . . 

The scene was to be expected.  There were multiple LSU group tailgates consisting of about 10-12 people and plus a few adoptive members who underwent the formalities and were accepted.  There was a Wisconsin group who rented a trailer, and holding true to the Wisconsin house party culture every Wisconsinite in the parking lot eventually congregated over to create a huge impromptu party.

Now, when I set out for Houston I was a group of 1.  I found out some buds were going to the game, so we met up and prepped for the tailgate.  In true Big Ten style, 6 hours before the game we ran into a Wal-Mart came out with a grill, charcoal, lighter fluid, grill utensils, brats, burgers, and beer and hurried off to NRG.  We hit the parking lot, started assembling the grill (which took us longer than I care to admit) and started roasting some meat and drinking some beers.  Here we are in post grill assemblage jubilation:

Left to Right - Eric "Series of Wires and Tubes" Ma, Dan "Why are there so many Vikings fans here?" MacKenzie,
Cale "Narrating this Blog" Bakken, and Ben "I'm Going to Bring the Big Truck" LeBlanc.
Picture taken by Alyssa "Screw Chairs" LeBlanc.

Now, it was around this time that I bought the ticket to the game at a rock star deal.  We drank, ate, mingled and participated in general revelry for the next few hours until it was time to go into the game.  As I said before the lot looked empty, but hot damn was the game packed.  I left my friends and found my seat.  I was the only badger fan for what had to be miles and I was scared, as captured in this photo.

The fear is palpable.  Luckily I was sitting by a great group of LSU fans who set my mind at ease. Seen here:

Great guys from a great fan base.  It was a great first half of football.  Then the second half began and apparently nobody told Wisconsin, because they didn't show up.

That's all I'm going to say about that.  The wounds are still deep and haven't healed.  However, I will say that every time I have been around LSU fans I have been genuinely impressed.  They are an incredibly polite and fun fan base.  They were probably a little more polite in Houston due to the neutral site game.  I've found that a a neutral site attracts an older demographic, which limits the amount of drunk idiot college students that are in attendance.  There were still some on both sides, but with the overwhelming older crowd they curbed their enthusiasm a bit.

Final breakdown on the Houston Wisconsin/LSU game:

Houston is huge, LSU/Wisconsin fans are great, and NRG is the greatest name for a stadium ever.



Next up Houston Part 2: Everything Else.

The Parameters of a Trip

On Thursday, 28 August 2014 I quit my job.  

I have no intention to get another job, find a place to live, or secure a steady stream of income.  As Vincent from Pulp Fiction once said, 

"They got a name for that . . . it's called 'a bum'.  Andy without a job, a residence, or legal tender, that's exactly what you're going to be: a fucking bum."

My plan is to travel for an extended period of time around the U.S, then to Europe, and perhaps beyond. I have a tentative, but fluid schedule for my travel around the U.S. (Nothing yet for Europe, I'll let future Cale deal with that) I have mostly booked my weekends for specific cities, and left the weekdays free to follow what strikes me at any given period of time.  I will be keeping this travel blog as I gallivant around, to inform people of my location, change in plans, and to capture some of my inane thoughts as I journey.

Want a visual representation of my journey?

Boom.

The dates and places in list form are as follows:

1 - Houston:  August 29- September 1 (Already completed, words to follow)
2 - Austin: September 2 - September 10
3 - Baton Rouge: September 11 - September 14
4 - Dallas: September 18 - September 21
5 - Albuquerque: September 22 - September 24
6 - Denver: September 25 - September 28
7 - Minneapolis: October 3 - October 5
8 - Wisconsin: October 7 - October 16
9 - New York City: October 17 - October 20
10 - Europe: October 21 - Beyond

If you currently reside in a city/state listed and I am aware of it, expect a phone call soon, real soon.  If you are in a city or anywhere along the route in gray shoot me a line so we can meet up.  I'll be driving until I reach Wisconsin, where I'll ditch my car to fly to New York and Europe.  However, until I reach my homeland I will be extremely mobile, so if anyone has any great recommendations that are a bit off the road I can Robert Frost it and veer from my route.

I feel that I have sufficiently defined the parameters and limitations of the trip.  I hope to see many of you soon.

Next up:  The Houston Breakdown.