Breakfast in Austin
Not being one to fight failure, and willing — these days — to heed the signs, I bowed out before trailer park eateries became restaurants. Not to suggest I don’t enjoy Torchy’s in San Antonio, and not that I am ungrateful they expanded to join the taco wars.
So this is about visiting a Torchy’s Taco early on a Sunday morning — in my pajamas. Roll out of bed, nudge the girlfriend, and we stagger off to Torchy’s in the old airport.
Sleepwear because I worked in Austin on Saturday, and “Sunday morning coming down,” as the song goes?
Giggling, bright Austin sun shining down, “You realize I’m still in my pajamas, right?” I asked.
“And I don’t have any make up on,” she giggled back. Always pick women who look good without their war paint. No imagination needed.
Breakfast in Austin
The old Austin airport location holds special memories, too. Part of that is the reflection of the old airport, too many trips in and out of there, playing jet-set astrologer. I’m much less than that, now.
In Austin, this weekend, but I doubt I’ll be at Torchy’s in pajamas again, but never know what could happen. It is Austin, and the old spirit is still strong.
