From The Alamo To The River Walk

The Alamo

The next morning Mary was up at the crack of dawn, well 9 am, dawn to me.  I went back to sleep.  She had gotten dressed and went shopping at some of the stores down by the River Walk.  I was just trying to catch up on a least a little bit of sleep that I had missed.  I didn't care about much of anything that morning except not being awake so early.

At some point, Mary returned from her shopping trip.  I pulled the covers down off of my face just enough to peek out and weakly ask, "Time?"  It was now "noonish," I was ready to crawl out of bed.

I had to hit the bathtub and soak my sleepy self back to life.  I recall that San Antonio had really soft water; I didn't think I would ever get all of the soap off of my body.  Finally, I made it out of the bathroom, clean and not a hair out of place and freckles completely covered.  I opened the Dr. Pepper.
that Mary had brought me and asked her, "Well, are you ready to go?"  She was.

We were going to walk over to The Alamo, almost right next door to our hotel.  The grounds were beautiful, flowers and shrubs and trees, all gorgeous and tropical looking in the high humidity and heat.  If you have ever seen The Alamo with John Wayne, you would be shocked at how it really looks.  I know I was.  It was very small, almost tiny.  And the Texans were very strict about the behavior of visitors inside the building.  It is treated like a sacred place.  Your kids had better be very well behaved, and everyone must be quiet inside the building.  They were very strict about this and had no problem removing non-compliant visitors from the building.  It was a very sobering experience thinking about The Alamo's actual history, combining that with the visual images from the movie and standing right in front of the tiny room where Jim Bowie was killed.  I'm not a Texan, but I found it almost overwhelming.  I could feel the sadness; it was all over the inside of what had been a mission at one time.  The hopelessness of the battle waged there by the Americans, and the loss of life resulting from it hung in the air.  I don't want to ever go back there; it was much too emotional for me to handle.  We went outside to some of the remaining structures.  They had been stables at one time, but they were used for housing troops and protection from the Mexican troops during the battle.  I just found it all creepy and sad.  I wanted to leave.  I wanted to leave right then.  And we did.

We walked back to the motel and got my car.  We were just going to drive around the city and see what it was like.  There was a beautiful park near the downtown area.  It had a small stream from the river that ran across the road that you crossed.  I don't know why, but I thought it was very cool.  It was summer, and kids were running and playing, people having picnics and music in the air: Mexican music, happy sounding.  Every time I hear similar music, it reminds me of that day.  There was a huge Mexican Market.  Products were imported from Mexico, just about anything that you could think of.  Now we were looking for some of the clubs that had good reputations.  Good, meaning, a great place to go, food, drinks, dancing, and nightlife.  During the daylight hours, they looked calm and well, like nothing.  We would have to check it out after dark.

Back to the motel to park the car.  Then we walked down to the River Walk.  Down the steps leaving the real city behind.  We observed the world of different food smells wafting in the air.  And the sounds of happy people sitting at tables, eating and drinking.  Kids voices with their parents yelling at them to get away from the water.  Little barges chugging down the river shuttling the tourists past all of the things that the River Walk had to offer.  It was just too laid back and fun.  I loved it; I wanted
to live down there and be able to take it all in every day.

We walked around and stopped in several of the gift shops.  Killing a little time and also looking for souvenirs to take back with us.  We walked down to the opposite end of the walkway and climbed on the sightseeing barge.  It went to some locations that were difficult to walk to and the area that had once housed The World's Fair.  (Do we even have those still?)  It was nice.  It allowed you to really check the scenery out, including all of the men walking around.

We chose one of the outdoor cafes by the water to stop and have a drink.  We were drinking and talking and laughing and acting foolish as we frequently did.  The waiter brought us a round of drinks and said they were from the "gentlemen behind us."   Well, well.  And they were charming, but a little younger than was my preference.  They were not babies, they were in the neighborhood of my age, but I preferred guys a few years older.  So we drank the drinks, and voila!  More drinks appeared on the table.  Okay, they earned a spot at the table with us.  We started talking and laughing, having an enjoyable time.  Then the bartender came over with more drinks, but just for Mary and me.  This time, the drinks were on the house.  The bartender said we were drawing people into the cafe by having a good time, and as long as that lasted, he would be bringing us drinks.  Ole! It was like an afternoon Ladies' Night.

I had to stop actively drinking and just fake it.  I was getting bombed.  Mary was getting bombed.  Those guys were getting bombed.  I was afraid to get up from the table because I didn't know how well I could walk in those platform shoes.  On any sober day, those shoes were a challenge. Stepping on the tiniest pebble could cause a tragic fall.  Add a little alcohol, and one could end up in the ER.  What's a girl to do?  Barefoot, sad but true, those shoes were going to have to come off.  Soon.  Either that or I was going to have to eat something pretty quickly.  Waiter!  Food please, chips and salsa.  Enchiladas, rice, beans.  I was coming back to life and sobriety.  And I could walk again.  It was a miracle, a miracle.  Now, it was time to go dancing a bit.  Not a hard thing to do in this town.
And this lovely day in San Antonio, Texas, was coming to an end.  Mary said goodbye to her cute blonde-haired friend, and I was just giving off my "I'm really not interested in you" vibes.  What a long, long day.

We made it back to the motel, very tired and somewhat loaded with alcohol.  We were not planning for tomorrow, well, actually later in the day, until we woke up.  We would decide what to do and where to go then, but not now.  Right now, it was time for restorative sleep.  I was just hoping that I didn't get that stupid feeling of falling out of bed.  That was the worst part of drinking, well, part of the worst.  I refused to think about praying to the toilet god.  Not on this trip.