Halloween in Austin

Halloween in Austin

So the big night wasn’t that big of deal for me.

Didn’t have any plans, thought about cruising 6th street to see the sights, but almost gave up on that idea. It was the end of the month, and that means the second job was a little more busy than usual. Move in, move out, collect rent, just the usual odd jobs.

So I stopped off for a shot of espresso on the way home, and Bubba calls me up on the cell phone. I was to wait for him, and since I was almost there, I had about half an hour to do nothing but stand in a doorway next to a pool hall, on “the Historic Pecan Street” and wait.

The night was just getting going. Four young women scampered across the street in a variety of “Catholic School girl” dresses/costumes. I couldn’t help but overhear one them say, “We did not plan this well,” as she was tugging her skirt lower to cover exposed flesh. From my vantage point as a shadowy figure lurking in a doorway, I would tend to disagree. Well planned, well executed. Less is more. It’s a Zen thing.

We dined at the buffalo wing place, toured the Hard Rock, and hit the street. Grabbed cigars at one place, strolled around for while, and one costume brought some mirth with Bubba’s question, “The scary thing is, is that his real hair?” It was a Rod Stewart [circa 1978> look-a-like.

Finally, we got to chatting with one of the cops behind the police barricades. A guy with antlers strolled by and the cops asked for them, as those antlers would be a potential hazard. Much later, I thought I could’ve made a point, as a pagan priest, that the costume was in fact a sacred relic. Anyway, the cop got the antlers, and we laughed about that. Then, another reveler looked at the antlers behind the barricade and asked where they came from.

Without missing a beat, the cop looked back, then said, “Nothing wrong with that; they’re in season.”

About the author: Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in a trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at KramerWetzel.com.

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