According to Upper East Siders in Gossip Girl, you know you’ve made it, or really your parents made it, when your driver is on speed dial. In Austin, you know you’re a big shot when your favorite Cabbie is on your speed dial.
Sixth Street in Austin is a magical land. It’s a mile-long street solely devoted to drinking. Its neighbors, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Seventh and Eighth Streets, are also golden, but not nearly as shiny as Sixth Street. On Sixth, beer, liquor and wine flow out the wazoo, up and coming bands are rockin’ their socks off and the college crowd finally feels at home. You see everyone you hoped you’d see, those you didn’t want to see, and those you know look nothing like the picture on ”their” 28-year-old sister’s ID.
There’s a hierarchy to Sixth Street. When you’re a freshmen, aka 18, you stick to “Dirty Sixth” the local version of AdMo. Door guys are less likely to question the newest trend in fake IDs and creepster men are more likely to buy you drinks. After all, it’s hard to explain to you parents why there’s a $55 charge at a place called “Treasure Island.”
Sophomores slowly inch their way away from IH-35 and start meddling in the less dirty waters at bars like “Dizzy Rooster” and “Paradise.” They’re feeling a bit gutsy and pushing their limits at “cooler bars” because they’re on the verge of turning 21 and convinced themselves they’ll look the exact same six months from now, when they’re actually 21.
Once you’ve hit 21 though, you cross over Guadalupe Street to “West Sixth,” the Austin version of Georgetown. The thing about Austin is that it’s not just a college town. It’s a huge government town, a breeding ground for young, attractive lawyers and other business folk. These professionals are a West Sixth staple. Hence why girls that are, as my fav Long Islander would say, “so over” college guys, flock there in herds. West Sixth is also more low key and had a Torchy’s Taco stand- a frequent late-night stop of mine. By the way, if you are looking for a good business concept, share your bar with a taco stand…Genius!
Until graduation or you decide to leave Austin, West Sixth is where you’ll camp out. There is the occasional trip east to the Greek dance party at 311 and big beers at Logan’s.
The thing about Sixth Street is that it’s always a fiasco to get home after last call. If you’re smart, scratch that, coherent at 1:30 am, jetting right then is the best option. This way you can secure a cab before other people stumble outside. Or if you remember and are hanging around Dirty Sixth, then you can catch the “E-Bus” back to campus. The Entertainment Bus is the official late night party scene for people I would never want to hang out with. Pleather, see-through heels and fringe are always present.
But if you’ve opted to end your night west at Little Woodrows, J. Black’sor the Ranch, good luck getting home. The key to always having transportation is befriending the people who’ve made it and have a weird, yet convenient, relationship with Cabbies. (I know you’re shocked to know that I’m not one of these people.)
My friend Caroline has Doug on her speed dial and the guy will drive from anywhere to pick her and her friends, aka me, up. He’s what I call a life savior. Oddly enough, he is the sweetest, old, white man, and he adores Caroline and company. He’s not what I’d call a typical Cabbie.
When I made a trip to Austin last weekend I unknowingly was mingling with others who’ve made it, specifically Jeff Sherman. He’s the latest of EA’s important friends, as he bought us drinks all day and night and has a Cabbie on speed dial.
As 2 am rolled around and I realized there was no way we’re getting a cab I weighed my options. At this time of night walking 25 blocks home always seems like a good idea. You tell yourself it’s not really that far and can do it. Your stupid friends agree, and you start trekking. Half-way through you decide it’s not a good idea, try desperately to hail a cab-none are around or are all full-realize it’s a lost cause, and continue walking. I’ve done this more times than I care to remember. The only redeeming part is you get to walk through the Capitol grounds and it’s absolutely gorgeous.
Before I could suggest the walk home, super-suave Jeff came to the rescue. Jeff is one of those guys you always want around-he’s full of energy, funny, buys drinks and is good company. In an effort to impress myself and EA’s bro, Will, Jeff says, “Hang on guys, I’ll get us home,” and makes a call…..
Jeff: “D-MIIIILLLLLLEEER!!! What’s up bro, it’s your boy Jeff…… Hey man I need you and I know you need me…… Bro, can you pick me up. We’re at the Ranch……..Man don’t be doing this we’re at the Ranch…….Come on bro…..”
Within a minute, our yellow car had arrived, and I was thoroughly impressed. Another great thing about being BFF with a Cabbie is that when a cab arrives everyone flocks to it thinking it’s their ride home, when in actuality, it’s not. I love being the one that walks up to the cab leaving other hopeful hailers thinking, “who are they and why do they get the cab?” I pretend like I’m an Upper East Sider getting into my yellow limo.
“D-MIIIILLLLLLEEER” as Jeff calls him, is equally super-suave and was dressed to the nines. He was sporting a zip-up, mock turtleneck sweater and some strong smelling cologne and kind of reminded me of the Nutty Professor. I think because of his laugh. He and Jeff were clowning around, calling each other “bro,” asking who the ladies (me and EA) were, and acting like long lost friends. Obvi the first thing that entered my mind was, I can totally blog about this!
Jeff and D-MILLER
Jeff’s one of those guys that loves bicep smacks. Apparently “D-MILLER” doesn’t, but likes Jeff enough to laugh about it and be like, “Say man, you brusin’ me. I’m-a-gonna-be sore tomorrow. Just like them Aggies…They got their asses tattooed tonight!”
You can see why everyone loves D-MILLER.
