Despite having family and friends, many people choose to travel alone. I am one of them, mostly. Professor Constanza Bianchi, from Queensland University Business School in Australia studied the matter. She reported that when solo travelers leave home they are choosing “freedom, uncompromised fun and meeting new people” over the companionship of a friend or spouse. I have just returned from a trip to Austin, Texas with a friend to see a friend. My travel companion Joan and I have been friends since childhood. We met Susanne while in college. She lived in the Chicago area, but now lives 30 miles south of Austin with her husband, Randy. They have been Texans for only a few months. Joan and I promised to visit when they got settled. Due to time constraints we didn’t take the train. Before leaving I ruminated about why I like solo travel. I questioned how the Austin trip would go and how it might be different if I traveled solo.
The difference started at the airport security line. I have TSA PreCheck, meaning I can go in the shorter line and don’t have to remove my shoes. Joan has no such clearance. We marched to the longer line and waited as people moved slowly towards the security scanners. Joan is not the most agile person. She clumsily removed her laced shoes while balancing her bags that began leaking a make-up compact, keys and a few coins. She failed to mention her metal knee replacement to the security officer. She got pulled out of the line and waited to stand spread eagle while a female attendant searched her body head to toe. She was giggling during the body search and mouthed to me, “Take a picture.” I didn’t take a picture.
“They don’t like people taking photos,” I told her. “They have authority to detain us for whatever reason.” I viewed her actions as folly to keep any frustration at bay.
Joan procrastinated in getting her airline ticket. She told me she called the airlines and booked a Basic Economy round trip ticket for $300. The person she booked with didn’t mention she could not bring any luggage, not even a carry-on bag, onto the plane. I never check baggage at airports. I bring a small wheeled carry-on bag no matter where I’m going or for how long. It conveniently converts to a backpack should I encounter rough terrain. Joan was in the last group to board. While I was seated and ready for take-off she was pleading with flight attendants to allow her to bring her bag on board. She paid $25 to check the bag and another $10 to be seated in a middle seat next to me. This pained me because Joan doesn’t have a lot of money. She works as a card dealer in a casino. I used my reward miles and paid a total of $11.56 in taxes for my airfare, but I didn’t tell her this.
Finances are a factor Professor Bianchi may want to add to her list of why some people travel solo. I know what I prefer to pay for meals or lodging. This amount may not be the same for another traveler. Pace is also important. Some people move quicker than others. I found myself constantly slowing down to accommodate my friend who is the same age as me. People I’ve traveled with sometimes say I meander too much, going off course from the direct route, stopping to talk with people. Companion travel does require patience. Benjamin Disraeli said, “Travel teaches toleration.”
When we arrived at the Austin airport I texted Susanne. Joan’s turquoise carry-on bag appeared within seconds on the circulating luggage rack. Baggage claim had become more efficient than what I recalled. We walked outside to see Susanne waiting in her car, waving. She was excited to see us and spend a night downtown. Austin on this September afternoon was extremely hot. “Sometimes you don’t realize how the heat can affect you,” Susanne warned. She parked the car and we stood in the 95 degree heat without shade on South Congress Avenue. I could feel the sun burning my skin. Joan’s face, covered in a sweat shine, turned beet red.
“There are all sorts of funky stores along this street,” Susanne said.
I didn’t want to shop. This is another factor to consider in companion travel – similar interests. How do you wish to spend your time once you’ve arrived at a destination? I wanted to see the new library and the Capitol Building and walk along the campus at the University of Texas. I passed on rummaging through vintage clothing at Feathers Boutique. Susanne was showing signs of hostess anxiety. She stuttered her words while steering the car around the same block multiple times in search of a hotel entrance. I kept quiet. She had booked a room for two people and there were three of us. She asked if I would stay on the street until they got into the room.
Because I often travel alone, I welcomed a chance to wander the streets viewing the construction going on in America’s fastest growing city. Google Tower at 500 West Second Street lends some tech savvy to the city. A car-free residential tower on the 700 block on Congress implied environmental advocacy. Condo towers with taglines that read “Low density luxury” and “Don’t downsize, upgrade” appealed to both young and mature residents who may be concerned about crowds and change. When traveling solo I get hyper alert about my personal safety, not getting lost, and figuring out what’s next. I wasn’t feeling any of that knowing my friends were nearby.
The sun wouldn’t give up. Still on the street I stopped and ordered a slushy frozen drink that was served with a paper straw. The straw soon unraveled.
“Could I have another straw?” I asked the perky young gal behind the storefront window.
“Yes, that happens,” she said while inspecting the soggy, split straw. I wondered which was better environmentally, one plastic straw or three paper ones.
People on Austin’s downtown streets were dressed casually. Sleeveless t-shirts and blue jean shorts seemed the norm. Tattoos are popular. Forearms, shoulders, calves, hands billboarded skin. Riders on electric, stand-up scooters shared the sidewalks at intimidating speed. I had walked a few miles before questioning what my friends were doing. I called Joan.
“Did you get in the room?”
“Yes. I am in the room, but I can’t open the door to let Susanne in.” Joan’s gasping, loud laugh accompanied each word she spoke.
“What?” I thought they may have started happy hour without me.
“I came in the room and she stayed in the hall to test the lock.” Laugh. “But now I can’t open the door for her.” Gasp, louder laugh.
“Text me when you both get in.” I didn’t ask how? Or why? I knew them well enough to know it would be a good story when we reunited. Another 15 minutes passed before Joan called to tell me the coast was clear. I entered the hotel using a code she gave me to unlock the front gate. It wasn’t really a hotel but a residential building with rooms for nightly rental. No one was at the front desk. I didn’t understand the explanation they gave me for the door mishap, but we enjoyed laughing about it. It was the kind of laugh I could not duplicate traveling solo.
During our 5-day stay Susanne often repeated, “I feel normal with you guys here.” Another factor in companion travel is timing. Some people are limited by how many vacation days they get and when they can schedule those days. Fortunately, the timing was right for Joan and I to visit our friend who was feeling kind of lost in her new home.
“It takes time to adjust to a new place,” I said. I understand that out-of-whack feeling. I’ve moved twice in the last year. While her move did not require having to adapt to a foreign culture or language, living in Chicago is different from living in Austin. Susanne showed us how different.
Texas Dance Culture
We entered the door to the Broken Spoke on Lamar Boulevard, a legendary honky tonk described as the “real Texas.” It contains a restaurant with the “best chicken fried steak in town,” a bar serving Guns & Oil lager beer, a small museum of memorabilia saluting country music greats such as George Strait, and a dance hall in the back where lessons in the Texas two-step begin at 8:00pm. The owners’ daughter, Terri White, is the dance instructor. She got everyone moving across the concrete floor and quickly handed control over to the men.
“Men lead on the dance floor, just like in the bedroom,” she said. “I don’t care what you look like, if you can two-step, the ladies will line up to dance with you.”
Then she slyly addressed the ladies.
“You know that if a man is a good dancer, he’s good at other things.”
Terri wore long blonde extensions, a low-cut cowgirl shirt and tight, cheek hugging blue jean hot pants with leather cowboy boots up to her knees. The table we sat at to watch was made of plywood and the chairs were metal fold ups. I was ready to join in, but neither Joan or Susanne showed any inclination to do so. When the music started the dancers circulated counter-clockwise all in step with one another. Whether slight in frame or height or tall and muscular, every man wearing a cowboy hat attracted my attention. My eyes started moving from the hat down to the expressions on their faces, to arms holding their dance partner, to hips swerving in rhythm, and to their feet covered in dusty cowboy boots. “That guy in the black hat doesn’t even look at his dance partner,” Susanne observed. Chicago felt far away. I recalled the words of St. Augustine, “The world is a book and those who do not travel only read one page.”
Outdoors Austin
The next morning, we hiked down to the Colorado River. Joan was struggling to keep up, so Susanne and I slowed down and decided to drive to the kayak rental launch. Joan stayed on shore with a camera while we paddled our kayaks under the historic State Highway 29 bridge and around river bends watching turtles on rocks bake in the sun.
On Sunday, rather than church service or brunch we attended Chicken Shit Bingo, a revenue generator thought up by local country music artist Dale Watson. He was playing at C Boys on the corner of Leland and South Congress. In mid-day people chugged bottles of Lone Star beer and lined up to buy tickets with a number on it that coincided with the numbers on the bottom of a chicken coop set up by the door. A live chicken was put in the coop and expected to poop on one of the numbers. When the chicken poops on your ticket number you win $150. As anticipation grew, Dale Watson and his band played country music the way I like it, no lights or sound men, just the guys and their instruments.
T-shirts that read “Pure Pork” and “Pink Floyd” revealed the diversity of the crowd. I also saw the popular slogan with Second Amendment rights advocates: “Come and take them” with a picture of two barreled rifles crossed. The cowboys here were packing smart phones on their belts, not pistols. Free hot dogs were offered. Waitresses balanced raised trays of beer. The drummer blew bubbles with his gum. We saw again the country music dance culture still alive in Austin but disappearing fast. We visited a vineyard in the Hill Country, ate Texas style ribs at Black’s BBQ, and played bean-bag toss while listening to live music at the Railhouse in Kyle, Texas.
Solo travel is the fastest growing tourism segment. Travel operators are promoting solo travel as a means of self-discovery. But for me trends and conscious self-discovery are like viewing a place with technology rather than in real presence. It only skims the surface. I did miss having the freedom to do what I wanted, but I was glad to belly laugh with Joan again and see the spaces Susanne enjoys in her new home state. With “us” instead of “me” I found the kind of comfort only familiar friends bring. Still, the next time I visit Texas I’m going to two-step with one of those cowboys.
