Summer, 2021
Submit to the sun and you will be free.
The first Aztec god birthed the gods of the north, south, east, and west. These four created water, more gods, and a giant serpentine beast with a mouth at every joint. But the gods saw that everytime they created something, it would fall into the water and be eaten by their monster, so in the end, they killed her and the earth was created in her carcass. Her tail stretches all the way to the underworld, her head goes all the way up to the heavens and the heart sat at the center of civilization.
The earth wasn’t completed yet, however, for there was no fuel. Earth needed a sun. And the only way to create a sun is by sacrificing a god. Several gods took their turn at being the sun, shining over the earth with all its might, until disorder would bring them back down. But over many ages and many battles, the gods united to bring our current sun into existence. Nanahuatzin offered himself, but was weak, stuck motionless above the earth. And the rest of the gods sacrificed their blood so he could fly across the sky day after day.
The Aztecs were right, the sun requires our sacrifice and it deserves our respect, it is the most powerful thing in the universe, the blood of the gods and the giver of life. They were right about everything in their time, but things have changed. The center of the universe has been pushed north to Austin. The humid gusts from the Gulf of Mexico brought with it the most powerful pocket of energy, the cradle of the spirit and of human.
---
I met Javier on my flight from Houston to Austin. I’m going to tell you his story and then I want you to imagine how he felt at that moment. Javier was 26 years old with four children and a wife, all at home in Nicaragua. He had spent the last several years migrating between Nicaragua, Panama, and Costa Rica looking for work. In Panama he worked at a factory building steel beams for construction projects. He would make hardly enough money to feed himself and pay rent, leaving little for saving or bringing back to his family. ‘I’m not afraid of working hard, but you just can’t build any kind of life for yourself with that kind of pay.’
After 6 failed attempts at crossing the desert into the United States, he finally made it, but was caught at a checkpoint north of El Paso. Javier didn’t speak a word of english. He had spent the last few months getting moved around the country while they processed him. He had a heavy, tightly held GPS tracker on his ankle to make sure he didn’t leave the city of Austin. He was on his way to see his cousin and work while he waited for his court date where he would ask for asylum. He showed me the documents he had been given which stated that he had been arrested for illegal entry into the United States - it was written in english, but he knew what it said.
He used my phone to call his cousin. I took a photo of him outside so they knew where to pick him up. That was the last I heard of him. Despite everything, I think he was hopeful.
My friends Mason and Michael picked me up from the airport. Mason and I have a history of unforgettable moments, so I was ready for some nonsense. I was in one of those moods where you’re tired and hungry, but the adrenaline is there, so you feel kinda drunk and you can’t stop talking. We stayed up late that night catching up. In some ways this night set precedent for the rest of my time in the city. Late nights with friends before getting up for our nine-to-fives.
On my second day we got word a good band was playing at a bar downtown. We went, of course. It was the first live music I had seen since the pandemic started. I threw myself into the mosh pit and flew around with all the other drunken rock ‘n’ rollers. We drank Lone Star beer that splashed and crashed with every beat of the kick drum. At one point I lost my grip and fell to the floor, but a very large man named John spared no more than a second to pick me up off my knees to give me another heavy shove into the pile of idiots moving with the music. My shirt was gross and I was too and beer blanketed the floor and we slid and danced until the show was over. We sacrifice our blood, sweat, and beers for the energy of the music that captured us all within its embrace.
Austin is a little, big city. Things move at just the pace they should. In Austin you’ll find the person you’re looking for.
On paper, Austin reminds me a lot of Nashville, Tennessee, but the spirit is just all so different. The people in Nashville, want to be cool, the folks in Austin really are. Bands in Nashville play covers, bands in Austin play originals. Punks in Nashville ask ‘who cares?’ and punks in Austin never worried in the first place.
After a year of covid shutdowns, Austin was a signal for me that things are changing. After so long apart, the country’s 20 something year olds are in dire need of stupid shit to do. The recklessness quota is way low, somebody should set something on fire. Maybe not even a state mandated quarantine could overcome the magnetic pull of a maskless rock show on a Wednesday night. Good things it’s over anyways. I love the chaos, the absurdity of it all. I feel fulfilled waking up with a hangover, desperately slurping coffee to try to overcome the headache.
I learned that the beauty of Austin comes out at Sunset. Humongous sky Texas, wide and powerful. If you find yourself on top of a hill where you can see the whole city, you might not believe your eyes. The water in the air instills a haziness over the earth, as if you're looking at some old film. And when you walk through the soft, quiet neighborhoods by the river you’ll see something else. The backyards are filled with string lights, tree stumps where you can sit and look at the fire pit and wind chimes dangling from the branches above your head. You can feel the shift at sunset, the atmosphere is charged. The uncomfortably hot days push people indoors, but once the sky turns dark, the world is pleasant and you feel alive and we can come together again.
I also learned that Bike Polo is the most powerful unifying force on the planet. It’s a sport that nobody knows about, but the few that do are die hard, unstoppable fanatics. The true athletes know each other across international borders, far and wide, although no one else would ever see this invisible wire. The first time I played bike Polo was in Mexico City a few months ago. When Mason and I went to play in Austin, I met Megan who knew the folks I played with in Mexico and the folks I met who play in Raleigh, NC. Megan taught us how to play like the guys in San Francisco. North, south, east, and west.
A day later I ran into a group of bike messengers downtown. I asked them where I could find a good cold brew, but really I just wanted to talk to them. One of the guys there I had met at polo the day before. They offered me some weed and invited me to their bike race on Saturday.
I showed up to the race with Mason and Michael. We drank a beer and hit the road at exactly 4pm. When the race started I tried to stay in front, but I soon learned that I didn’t stand a chance against two of them. It was winner-take-all, so I decided to enjoy myself instead. And all I could do was race my own legs. Me and the sun, the mid afternoon sun and the humid winds pushing me through the hills all the way to the tail of the beast where I’d turn around and head back up the spine. I gave my life to the sun that day and when it went to sleep, I did too.
Mason and I were sitting on the bank of the Colorado River one delicious evening while we sipped some brews. Several of the cans got busted from falling off my bike on route, so they spewed little jets of beer into the river like sprinklers on the lawn. We reminisced and looked at the deep shades of pink that canvased the horizon and the turtles kissing on the rocks. We weren’t alone, there were a couple of teenagers taking photos of each other, passersby on the walking path behind us, and, oh… a lady covered in tiger stripes smoking something with a couple of her buddies off to the left. Yes, she was covered in tiger stripes, tattooed all across her face, arms, chest, and legs.
“Is this one of yall’s bikes?” Tiger Lady said. I made the decision to speak to her like I would anyone else, despite her completely absurd appearance. I told her about my bicycle and she told me about the one she used to own.
“It was one of those French bikes from France,” she said. We chatted for a while about bicycles until she decided to tell us about her Ayahuasca experience from the week prior.
“I tried Ayahuasca once. It really helps you find your place in the world,” I told her.
“You know where my place is in this world? Chasing those ducks. The ones over there, you see? I chased ‘em all around until they jumped into the river and started having a threesome."
On that note, we left (Mason sent me a photo of her that he saw in one of those Most Wanted magazines). But I think she might be supernatural.
I ran into a couple of old friends during my time in the city. They’re doin’ good. This place seems to attract folks like me, or maybe I'm just falling for some sort of trap. A trap that takes young idiots and gives them a really good time. If I get a job offer at my company I’ll probably end up in Austin, so my time was spent thinking about myself in Mason and Michael’s situation, a bit of an appetizer.
Well, that’s my story. There’s no climax, nor any big takeaways. These are just the moments I chose to share with you all, my readers. I urge you to find your own story, however. So save up all your bread and fly Trans Love Airways to Austin, Texas, the center of the universe, and you’ll see.