Ever since I was little, ever since I was little, it looked like fun
And it’s no coincidence I’ve come
And I can die when I’m done – Crazy, Gnarls Barkley
Somewhere in the high-speed concrete maze above what is San Antonio, I blindly trusted Siri, and her sense of gigabyte direction. She was perfect every time, and who was I to doubt? Just a human left to relying on memory in graying gray matter – that or a yellowing 75th Edition of the “State Farm Road Atlas.”
As I weaved through the hated Texicans and their Nascar moves, the conversation went something like this:
KM: “How did we ever find anything without a GPS?”
Me: “I drove and you looked a map.”
KM: “We fought more back then.”
We were trying to get to Paesanos restaurant – not the one at the Riverwalk, and not Paesanos 1604. I wanted the original, the one founded by Joe Cosniac and Nick Pacelli back in that infamous year – 1969. The one that looked like it would have a stove with a huge pot and a fat Clemenza standing in front of it, throwing more meatballs into the secretive red sauce while the customers went to the mattresses.
But, alas, the McCullough location is no more, so instead we found ourselves sitting in the newer Lincoln Heights Paesanos, staring down at shrimp covered in garlic and butter.
My brother-in-law, BA, had directed us there.
BA had been a banker in Texas during the Wild West days of Charles Keating and Michael Milken. (It was Keating who paid $51 million for the Lincoln Savings and Loan, which at the time had a negative net worth of over $100 million. He financed the purchase through Milken’s junk bonds.)
But BA was a banker, and making good loans, even though he had to move around the Lone Star State something like 93 times in ten years. But he always found time to get over to San Antone for some of Cosniac’s signature dish, the Shrimp Paesanos.
So BA advised me, after I told him that I would be in the city of Crockett and Bowie, and Duncan and Popovich, that I had to go and eat at one of his favorite Italian restaurants while we were there. And that’s what we did.
Soon after – nearly as fast as we’d arrived – it was time to navigate back to I35 North, through Waco and Austin and Big D, and 100 degree haze and digital signs every 50 miles reminding us that “1,974 people have been killed on Texas roadways in 2014.” (I fully expected that number to go up during those 1,300 miles in two days, but it never did – not because many of those crazy Longhorns weren’t trying.)
I felt pretty good when we got to Austin, a chunk of the journey behind us. To my left was the UT campus. I saw the Tower, where on another August day nearly 50 years ago that crazy marine went on a shooting spree. It was eerie seeing it there, rising alone through the unfocused sky.
Then, that quickly, to a much more pleasant memory of the city back in 1988, when the Hogs got one of those rare Austin wins against the Horns.
Siri told us to continue on I35 North to Waco, which she pronounced Wacko, causing KM and I to laugh, a little wackily; fatigue has that effect.
Next came Big D; where I lamented briefly the upcoming Cowboy’s 8-8 season.
From there, a less stressful drive to the Rock, and home, where it’s always nice to return.
Worry
Why do I let myself worry?
Wonderin’
What in the world did I do? - Crazy, Patsy Cline
Jay Edwards is editor-in-chief of the Hamilton County Herald and an award-winning columnist. Contact him at jedwards@dailydata.com