☆☆AUSTIN☆☆

At work I met a Texan, his name was Kenneth.  I was doing the usual, just chewing the fat and asking him where he was from and he said he was from Austin but had grown up in Toronto. I freaked a little- I've felt a strange pull to the little city since my time living in California- and asked him if he liked it.  He responded by rolling up his pristine sleeve and showing me his huge burgundy and black for arm tat that said "AUSTIN", with a lone star as the A.  I went with him and his friends for beer and oysters and he taught me how to do the texas-two step.  His friend, Colonel Tom, a large brimmed grinner with a couple horses and a penchant for teaching music, and Tony, a cowboy boot maker of celebrity fame, came too. They're the best of the old crust of the country music scene in Toronto.  I got in all the venues for free and drank sweet tequila until the sun came up, reveling in their rowdy laughter and learned that life does not stop at 45, rather it starts in a whole new and exciting way.  Now I can't get Austin outta my head! All I want to do is grow lots of hair, get some good boots and an old Triumph and hit the road on down there.  Pick up a man or two and start some good old down home country bit.  Lordy, what a fantasy! Check both these hootenannies out who for a good old country time at the Dakota every; Lickin' Good Fried every Sunday, and Rattlesnake Choir on Mondays, and never stop dreamin' kid.