Batman Forever
June 6
My father’s a pilot. My mother’s father was a station manager. Travelling is
in my genes, I tell people. Every year, as May starts walking away, I get the
itching in my feet. It gets harder to pay attention to what is around me and I want
to pack a suitcase, board a plane or plan a road trip. And like every other
summer, I get to travel around this one too while others are immersed in school
work already. I mean, I know I’ll have to make it up in the last two semesters
but oh well!
We walked around a lot today, enough for me to want detachable feet so I can
take them off and put them to the side. Or soak them in salt water. It reminded
me of our trips with my dad, who is the most determined tourist you will ever
find. A baseball cap, an unwillingness to spend money and an iron will to check
off as many things-to-do as he/we could. It also reminded me of our treks in the
northern areas. Ah, I am dying to go on a trip to Hunza. College, I miss you.
So, I got to see more of the city today. We met an ambitious young artist
in front of a huge mural near UT, it was pretty warm and he was battling the heat
for his dreams, sharing his music – rap, hip hop – with people walking by, in
their sunglasses and holding ice drinks. Check me out on Facebook and Twitter,
he told us after we told him his song, called Miracle, was cool. Not an easy
job, I admired him for pursuing his dreams… and so far, he seemed optimistic.
Juice, iced tea, frozen yogurt; sandals, shorts, hats.
And then we walked
up and down South Congress, which is full of amazing shops that do not allow
photography! Why create something so amazing if people can’t share it with
others! There was a shop called Uncommon Objects, which I entered and was a
little stunned. My jaw fell open and my eyes widened. There was so much to see! My camera practically
wanted to jump out of my hands and hop around, taking pictures of teacups
hanging from a wire rack as if to dry in the wind, typewriters that warned ‘resist
the urge to type’, dolls with stitches coming apart at the neck, rusty boxes
that entice you with ‘keep out’ scribbled on it. An under-construction doll
house, lamps and chessboards, and a broken wedding couple thing that you
decorate the top of your cake with. There was old furniture, antique cameras,
old yellowed books and taxidermy specimens. You could have spent hours in that
place…
Then there were the bats under the bridge. And the deaf man with a bat-hat,
the real batman, who makes badges and wants to keep Austin batty… scores of
people had gathered at the lakeside, and on the bridge, the cameras with the
big lenses and tripods were out, people out on the lake in their various means
of flotation devices had pulled closer to the bridge and were sort of lazily
wafting around, waiting for the famous spectacle of thousands of bats flying
out from under the bridge while the sun set in a sea of orange, yellow and
pink. It is supposed to be one of the coolest things to do in the city, watch
the bats dot the sky like black shooting stars. So we stood on the bridge,
watching the sun set and looking out at the calm water, waiting. And waiting. And
waiting. The bright colors in the sky faded to pastels, and then darkened to a
charcoal. Everybody stayed put, though, and in fact as it became darker, a
couple more boats slowed to stops too.
‘It’s a boat show,’ a toddler corrected everyone standing there in
anticipation. And the kid was right.
We stood there for an hour and a half and
finally, as we started to walk away, a few bats flew out and around back under
the bridge. Then more, and more. They flew really fast, and in spinning circles
right and left, flying out and then curving sharply to go back in again. It wasn’t
the spectacular, breathtaking view promised but then that’s nature. You can’t
control everything and I appreciated that.
Also, I did get to see a beautiful sunset, a boat show, Batman, and
spinning bats.
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