Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator (ludickid) wrote,
Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator
ludickid

Tasteful San Antonio: The...wait, what?

Here is something you must understand: how I could just kill a man I do not write these Tasteful San Antonio entries for myself. I write them for you. You, the adolescent and/or teenager who may be living in SATX and will one day find yourself a grown-ass motherfucker with money in the pocket and shit to do. You, the globe-trotting adult who may one day find yourself stuck in America's eighth-largest city overnight. You, the average person who has come to expect certain things from a large metropolitan area and may not be fully prepared for what will happen when those expectations are cruelly dashed.

Now, I have not had a bad Labor Day weekend thus far. I drove out to Helotes and spent Friday night getting lit with my co-workers at Floore's Country Store, and while it's not exactly my crowd, it's a hell of a venue, and I had a good ol' time. I got a lot of writing done on Saturday, including some non-freelance stuff, which felt pretty damn good. And I spent this morning buying books and new clothes, and got some gory livid bleeding bargains, what with it being a holiday weekend and San Antonio money being worth three times your Earth dollars. Tomorrow I may stay in and do some more writing, or I may drive up to Austin and hang out with some good folks, or I may just make a bunch of frozen vodka lemonade and plow myself right into an early grave. So I got no complaints about the weekend, really.

But sometimes, when you are me or someone not unlike me -- that is to say, someone who is busy very much of the time, and who really has no friends within 50 miles, and is used to living in a place that is a little more, well, dynamic, you get stricken with what psychologists call "ennui", what sociologists call "wanderlust", what scienticians call "being bored out of your fucking skull". And there is really not a lot you can do about it sometimes, because you live in the middle of a cluster of religious schools and there are no decent bars or clubs for miles around, and no one will sell you liquor after midnight, and the only places to go are hours away, and the streets are deserted at 11PM on a holiday Sunday and that's just wrong, and you start to feel like you're living in a small town in the middle of nowhere which is fucked up because in fact you live in a city that has two million people in it.

So you have to do something about this wanderlust. Here is a recipe I read in Better Homes and Gardens.

First, you have to drive around. As stated, this presents something of a difficulty, because there really isn't anywhere to go, and even if, like me, you don't mind driving around aimlessly in the middle of the night, you need to at least give yourself an excuse destination. This is a bit of a problem because nothing in the whole city is open past midnight. You might, then, take notice that there is no food in your house, and decide to drive to the only grocery store in town that isn't owned by the Walton family: H.E. Butt. There are a couple of HEB stores that are open 24 hours, and they're all very far away from your apartment, so getting there will be a long, long drive.

STEP 1: Get really gopped up. This is incredibly important for reasons that will become clear.

STEP 2: Load your iPod with dub music. This is perfect for driving way the hell out to Balcones Heights at 12:30AM when you're stoned off your chub.

STEP 3: Arrive at the grocery store. Buy everything they have.

STEP 4: Note that of all the sections in the store, the only one that is closed off with a locked gate is the makeup and hair care section. The liquor section is open even though they will not sell you any liquor, but the Garnier Fructis is OFF LIMITS.

STEP 5: Check out. There may be a hulking, dirty white trash dude in line behind you with his two pregnant girlfriends who makes huffy puffy noises at having to wait while you pay for everything in the store, but pay him no mind. It is not your fault he is too dumb to use the many auto-checkout stands. Do not stab him in the intestines, because you are high and thus in a forgiving mood.

STEP 6: Head home. This being San Antonio, you will get lost, because you are far from home in an unfamiliar area and you are stoned, but also because San Antonio's freeway system, like the rest of the city, is designed for shit. For example, the exit you used to get on the I-10 cannot be used to get off the I-10 due to construction, but rather than put up a sign warning you that the exit is closed or telling you to take a detour, the city may just decide to put huge black plastic sheeting over three consecutive exit signs so that you don't even know where you're not able to get off from. Or they may put up a sign that indicates that an upcoming exit is Street A, and then put up a sign at the actual exit indicating that it is Street B. This is another reason that it is important that you be really boked up, so that you do not care about this.

STEP 7: Unload the 70 tons of groceries you bought. Your high will guide you towards eating the oddest combination of them imaginable. Note with some confusion that the nutritional label on the jar of pickles you bought indicates that the serving size is less than one pickle. Go to bed.
Tags: satx
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