...you learn to put up with quite a bit of shit.
Over the weekend the wife and I traveled to Texas Hill Country to attend one of those outdoor cookouts that Texas wineries like to put on from time to time. This was fortuitous, for me, because it was the exact last day before I started an eight-week 800 calorie-per-day crash diet that's had promising results for Type-2 diabetics (which I am unfortunately). It's also a good place to listen to some pretty good music, drink some pretty good wine and meet some pretty decent people who like doing the same.
And we met several people, we talked about all types of different things from Brexit to just how damn good the sparkling Rose that the winery is producing right now tastes and how it was perfect for a hot day.
Inevitably, the conversation would switch to the dreaded "so, where are you from?" After answering "Houston" the reaction would always be the same. Slowly shaking heads, a downward glance, a look of sudden horror and then, softly "I'm sorry" and a short list of whatever ills people thought that Houston had.
Some of it was the weather, which is fair, but hardly the fault of the people in the city, even the detractors acknowledged that. Mostly it was the traffic, and the fact that the city charges insanely high taxes while providing little in the way of services in return. As a matter of fact, the best way to get around the "I'm from Houston" label (and the acknowledgement of insanity that many think go with it) is to include the caveat that, in fact, I live just outside the city, in Cypress. Ah, much better then.
To be fair, Austin didn't rank all that high on people's list either. So it wasn't that I was hanging around with a bunch of progressive Texans who thought everything should be centrally planned. In fact, most of the people there that lived in Austin HATED pretty much everything about Austin, and admitted that many of the reasons they originally moved there were no longer applicable in the city. You want the young, cool, hip city that Austin used to be? Move to San Marcos.
At this point, were I writing a think piece for Gray Matters at HoustonChronicle.com I'd tell you the tale of how I, due solely to my brilliant wit, embarrassed all of the anti-Houston types and forced them to openly reveal their ignorance.
But this isn't fiction. And I'm not a progressive activist/amateur writer trying to use my prose to make me seem more brilliant or brave than I really am.
In fact, when most people said "Houston Sucks!" I just went "Yup, but it's where my job is so....."
and that pretty much shut down any further ribbing I would receive.
That also happens to be true. Houston does suck, pretty awfully. It's a super-heated, over-congested city with a crumbling infrastructure, ineffective (or, to be more accurate, "no") leadership and a ruling class that's only just slightly less annoying than it's courtesan class.
But the one thing that it, and most other cities in Texas, has going for it is (still) a crap-ton of jobs and places where you can get the hell away as David Crossley and his sycophants continue in their efforts to shoe-horn 4 Million people into a space designed for a Million max.
And I think, from now on, that's my answer to everything anti-Houston. I'm not going to defend the city from charges that it's ugly (it is) or that it's people are rude (they are, mostly) or that the infrastructure is crap (again, it is), I'm just going to sit quietly by the side as people tick off a laundry list of accurate things that are bad about where I currently reside. When they finish?
"Yes, I know, but it's where my job is."
"Oh yeah, and I don't live IN Houston, I live in Cypress."
