Torchy’s at the Airport

That’s the image. In my mind, that is the single — I always think of the late, great Doug Sahm, and that would be him in the image — flying off to another gig. Lanky, lean, tall cowboy hat, boots. Leaning against a rail, and probably holding forth, as would be his wont.

That’s the airport I associate with Austin, the old airport on Airport Drive, and all that’s left is the tower.

It’s still an Austin thing (properly enunciated as “thang”).

I was in and out of that specific airport for the first years of my career, and it meant something. Ratty old airport, almost regional in nature, run by a plucky crew of typical, rigorous, and forgiving Old Austin natives.

Weird before “Keep Austin weird” was a mission statement.

Old Austin that was a loose collective that favored, even nurtured, arts and oddity.

Torchy’s at the Airport

Mentioned before, and mentioned again, there was that scene, from that Austin Airport Torchy’s, one cold and bleak winter’s morn, more like a winter’s mourn, and we were huddled under winter coats over pajamas, grabbing early tacos before I sallied off to work, yet again. Giggling like teenagers, no less. Although, I have to wonder, does the current crop of angst-ridden and disturbed teenagers ever giggle?

The single image, drawn from a really recent excursion to that specific Torchy’s, the taco place that would like to think it’s a “joint,” when, really just an Austin-flavored chain. Still, early morning, before a Sunday show in Austin?

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