Yeah, Texans are a social bunch
Wrote some about it;
Texas
Most everyone there carries around a couple sayings;
“If you don’t like it, leave”
“You don’t mess with Texas” (this said thru semi-gritted teeth)
Both sayings end up with a mini staredown….it can intimidate a stranger…it’s meant to.
I sure wish my state would use those as mottos.
‘Course goin’ around with “You don’t mess with Texas” on yer Oregon plate would be a tad strange, but y’all get my drift.
Drove semi thru that state more than a few times…landed in Houston for a spell….took a gorgeous lady from Texas City home to Oregon.
But, Texas…huge…varied…dry some places….humid/tropical others…..mouth hangin’ open beautiful.
Most critters will ‘bitecha’……..”Oh, buddy, don’t pet that one…it’ll bitechall an y'all'll swell up”.
“Watchit! That turtle is a snappay turtle…here take this here green stick an rub it’s nose a bit”
SUHHHHH-NAP!
“See there?
Snappay turtle.
They snap
That’s why they call it a snappay turtle
Pay attention and take note, son”
Corpus Christi is one of my favorite places on earth.
Did some roofing there after Camille.
Boats down town, people camped on the beach.
OK, not roofing, but roofer’s helpering. Thought roofer’s helper was bad, but mason’s helper…those prima donna yayhoos want their mortar j-u-u-s-t right, no matter how many scaffolds up you hauled that bucket.
Trip one:“Haey bowah, too thick.
Trip two: Nope, can’t trawl this waterah goop
Trip three: Close, no ceegar…..need milkshaeke texture….you know….miiiiilkshaaaeke…old fashioned, not Mackdonnls….don’t make me come down there un show y’all. Pay attention son, hear?”
Trip four: I bring vials of water and dry mix and leave ‘em on the plank.
Rhode island Red Rooster Master mason and me become pool shootin’, beer guzzlin’, bar brawlin’ buds.
And I become a good listener, paying attention…to things not said.
A yankee can easily get set up, and come out lookin’ like a dufus…it’s a little fun game played throughout the south…I became a super star…broke some records in the triple A dufus league.
Got called up to the big show (dumbass) soon after.
Still known in some parts as 'Babe Garah'....holding several dumbass records.
My buddy George and I were headed from Houston to El Paso, his home, bombin' thru towns, non-stop. His state, not mine, he narrated the terrain.
Ran into a hail storm somewhere between Corpus and Del Rio.
Everyone was stopped.
There we sat.
My chevy getting' beat to a pulp.
We crept around cars and got thru the storm in about 30 seconds.
The rear view mirror showed everyone still sittin' out the hail. Paralyzed.
Day became night after staring at the sun for a couple hours.
We stopped west of Del Rio to fuel up.
There was a little open air bar roadside (yeah, they just take the walls off), so we stopped.
Round tables.
Barrel chairs.
A bar.
Each table had a big wooden bowl of tortilla chips, and a tiny gourd of hot sauce.
Beer, chips, more chips and half the gourd of sauce on one chip.
OH MOMMY!
BEEEEER!
I soon learned the word Ha-ban-er-o
They mercifully brought me a plate of tortillas.
Knowing smiles (damn Gringo).
Wrapped my tongue with a tamale til the feeling came back in my throat and uvula.
Went down the hwy about 20 miles when I saw what I thought was tiny tumble weeds blowin' across the road.
I woke my bud
"What's that?"
"Tranchlas"
"What?"
"Migration...time of year"
I had to stop.
Got out, spit the rest of my uvula wrap compote/balm out and watched the spectacle.
There they trudged, across the hwy and down into a ravine, far as you could see, both ways.
Can't remember how wide the trek was, but it seemed minutes before we drove outta them.
Texas has some strange and gloriously beautiful terrain, and stranger critters.
No wonder they love it so.