Remember the Alamo! From yesterday!

Sorry for the lapse in postings (I seem to be starting every post this way lately). But I have a valid excuse this time.

As I was driving to work on Tuesday, I noticed how gorgeous the weather was. Just perfect. Warm, but not hot. Breezy, but not windy. No clouds. Plenty of sun. It was one of those days that made you wish it wasn't Tuesday. So I got into work, and started, you know, working. But I couldn't stop thinking about what a fantastic day it was. I began to get anxious. Claustrophobic. Irritable. I mean, I really wasn't that busy. What if...

This led to the following text message exchange with Cory (who lives in Austin, incidentally):

Robert: Wanna skip the rest of the day and meet at the Riverwalk?
Cory: Are you in San Antonio?
Robert: No, but I could be by lunchtime.
Cory: Whats the occasion? Just fuck all?
Robert: Its gorgeous outside. I could use a mini-vacation. I'm impulsive. It would be fun.

And with that, we were on our way (hey, no one's ever accused either of us of taking our jobs too seriously, alright?) Now, considering what a terrible liar I am, I was pretty proud of the cough/sniffle performance I delivered to my boss before "going home sick for the day." I ran by the bank for some cash, swung by the gas station for a fill-up and was cruising down I-10 by 10:30. And in case you're wondering, the Riverwalk isn't exactly a hop, skip and a jump from my office. In terms of mileage, this is the same distance as Austin to Dallas. Or New York City to Providence, RI.
Two and half hours later (I sped. I was excited), I pulled into the city limits and made my way downtown.
And as is tradition, we met for lunch at the one and only Cafe Ole - home of the sixty ounce margarita.
As you might imagine, drinking a sixty ounce margarita produces two sensations - 1.) drunkenness. I mean, it's sixty ounces. And 2.) liquid over-saturation. Not only was there an ongoing slosh in our guts, but we were each peeing every four minutes or so. Good times.

After lunch (we ate too, by the way), we decided to walk around a bit. We've both been to the Riverwalk several times, so there wasn't really anything new to see down there. So we went up onto the street to see what the rest of downtown looked like. And made it about six steps before running smack dab into this...
Oldest saloon in Texas?! Hall of Horns?! Wild West exhibit?!!? Now, I should warn you, if you're a vegetarian or an animal lover, you might want to scroll down. Because this place was an absolute house of horrors.
No one understands Emo Deer.
More carnage...
The famed "Brady Buck," a 78-point deer.
See, when I read "78-point deer," I was expecting an animal with two trees coming out of the top of its head. This thing just looks like Whoopi Goldberg.

Mind you, this was around 4:00. On a Tuesday.
Shooting gallery!
Obligatory Alamo shots.
After our margaritas and beers at the Buckhorn Saloon and Museum, we settled at Dick's Last Resort, an awful and annoying bar whose schtick is "hey, our waiters are a bunch of assholes. And get ready for some low-brow penis humor. Aren't we clever?" (they called Cory my "girlfriend" and poked holes in the bottom of our beer cups. Hilarious!). Despite the nature of the establishment, there were still families and elderly people eating inside! I watched an old couple shuffle up to the front of the restaurant and start reading the menu. I could only watch in horror and say, "nononononono..." while they went inside. I wish the picture below was more clear, but she left wearing a hat that said "Into chains and whips," and her dear husband was wearing a...well...hat...made with some paper and two strategically placed balloons. Use your imagination.
Anyway, we ended up joining another table and talking with two out-of-towners (from Philadelphia and Denver). This upset their waiter, who had been flirting shamelessly since they sat down. At this point I began reasoning with myself. My plan was to leave San Antonio at around 8:00. This would put me home by 11:00, and I'd be back at work first thing in the morning. But I realized how drunk I was, and it was already about 6:30, so I started considering my options. Luckily, one of the girls had two beds in her hotel room, and she kindly let Cory and I curl up together in the empty bed. Nothing says "you probably shouldn't have finished that margarita" like waking up next to your half-naked friend in a strange hotel room.

Anyway, we got our bearings, tapped the girl on the shoulder to say thank you, and went downstairs to figure out what to do next. (side note: the Hilton Garden Inn has a lovely continental breakfast, by the way!)

As we were waiting in front of the hotel, laughing at ourselves, the woman from the front desk walked outside and told us, "the cabs usually take about fifteen minutes to get here, so..." Okay. Thanks. She continued, "You know, I saw you guys come in last night. Next time you can just bring the party here! And if you're interested, the pubs re-open at 10:00!" She stood there smiling. I was befuddled. A couple seconds of uncomfortable silence passed. "Thank you." She turned around and went back inside. What in the hell was this woman talking about? At this point Cory told me "she thinks we're British," and relayed the following conversation, which he'd had with her just minutes before.

Cory: Hi.
Front desk lady: Good morning! Hey, you're the guys from last night, right?
Cory: Umm, yeah. Can we get a cab?
Front desk lady: Sure thing. Going to the airport?
Cory: No. Uhh...downtown, actually.
Front desk lady: No problem. I'll call them now. It should be here in about fifteen minutes.
Cory: Thanks.
Front desk lady: Enjoy your stay in the States!

Now, I understand that both of us have funny, spiky foof hair. But she spoke to him! He doesn't sound even remotely British! He grew up literally 140 miles away!

Anyway, I ended up taking yesterday off too. Aside from the fact that I'd already sent my boss a drunken text message the night before ("Still sick. Not coming in tomorrow. Sorry."), I was feeling a bit tired after my three hour drive home. But I still have a job! And nothing important happened anyway! And tomorrow is Friday! I can't stress this enough - having a weekend in the middle of the week is awesome.