After the failed “date” with the man who baptised me in his mouth after I told him I won’t suck his dick, I was starting to think that Austin was possibly a place I didn’t want to extend my stay in. But then figured I wasn’t giving the town enough of a chance. Just because there was one douchebag didn’t mean that there were more. How many dingbats could I possibly encounter as a single woman in Austin after all?
Not that many it turns out – feel free to read about my lovely trip here.
But what this post is about is how I left Austin with some new ink.
You see I was walking down the street (not as gracefully as I usually do after day 2 of drinking myself silly with drag queens) and I had one of those thought bubbles that light up above your head and flash like a police vehicle.
I wanted a new tattoo. It was time. It had been a long while since my last one and I never got around to gifting myself for my 30th with one. So I jumped on the lappy and looked up tattoo parlours on Yelp. One that came up with for Sailors Grave Ink along 6th. I hear they’ve since moved.
You know, as an Australian abroad, I think I did all Australian’s proud when I went walking around Austin during the daylight to get to Congress I stopped to sit to have a breather under a tree in the gardens around Congress and was instantly surrounded by these little hopping things that were playing, rolling and generally being totally adorable.
We don’t have these in Australia. We have possums. Like this:
Ok, so possums more the size of wallaby’s… and I may or may not have cut up some of my watermelon for her.
So anyway, back to my squirrel adventure!! I apologise in advance for my love of squirrels and spamming you all with my squirrel peektures from Austin…
Just before leaving San Antonio I booked online through Expedia a room. A room in a hotel. That had advertised that it was close to Austin city and affordable. Read cheap.
Where do I sign up?
And you know how it’s a good thing to be frugal on your travels and booking hotel rooms right? Right.
I hop on the greyhound in San Antonio and gleefully enjoy the 1 hour drive to Austin. I do love short bus rides. No really it means that there is no strange just-out-of-jail men wanting to grope my boobs at 3am.