Austin, Texas – March 7, 2009

I’ll get to the cool pictures of night life on South Congress Avenue in Austin down at the end of this post. But first, as is my wont, I shall set the stage. I’m a member of the local union (Pan American United Faculty, currently a subsidiary of Texas Faculty Association, which is in some way a child organization of the NEA). Me. In a union. My right-wing upbringing instilled in me a loathing for unions (for reasons I’m still not completely clear on); but now I consider my $40 per month a good investment, because I keep learning freaky insane things about faculty being harassed or fired for bizarre or nonexistent reasons.

Odd that the public seems to think tenure is such a sweet deal, like it guarantees us profs a job for life. Certainly not in Texas. It just guarantees that there has to be “due process” before they summarily fire your sorry butt. In other words, it gives you a level of job security (at most American institutions) similar to (or less than) contracted workers in the private sector. You still get reviewed regularly, and if your performance is too low, you’re out. And for those of us who are not tenured, well, my job terms (I don’t have an actual contract) say I can be fired at any time, for any reason (or no reason), and I have no legal recourse.

Seriously, no legal recourse. Texas has held onto its Sovereign Immunity. That means that government employees (like me) can’t sue the government unless the government agrees to it. Which it never does. So, if I worked for pretty much anyone except the great State of Texas, I would have some protection from basic things like breach of contract, bad faith, etc. But since I work for the government, I’m out of luck. Even if my employer egregiously violated my not-really-a-contract-agreement, I could do nothing (unless they also violated Federal law). Tell me how those fat cat University profs have it good, again… I love that story…

Anyway, this union thing has done some good things, and offers me some small measure of employment comfort. Because I’m a member (I guess?), I was invited to the annual convention in Austin. I should mention that it had been a ridiculously long time since I had gone to the temple, so I killed two birds with one stone, flew to San Antonio Friday afternoon, rented a car, drove to the Temple (up north of town), and spent the evening there. It was great. Then I hauled my butt to Austin, about 90 minutes’ drive farther north.

I have to say KTSW is a great college radio station. Heck, it’s excellent for any station. I grooved all the way, until I lost the signal just outside Austin. Perhaps KTSW is crunk? Can I still say that? Could I ever? Anyway, I’m bookmarking their online feed.

Saturday, after our scary meetings (wherein a lawyer explained to us all about sovereign immunity), I had dinner with colleagues and then headed downtown. I was looking for free WiFi in some coffee shop. I would later find out that there was plenty in the lobby of my hotel (the Marriott… lame because there was no free internet in the rooms, and even $13/day — 12 noon to 12 noon, no matter when you sign up — bought slow service through a 3-foot ethernet cable that didn’t reach anywhere but the desk. Also this is the kind of hotel that charges stupid bucks for water. Of course, the hotel room was very nice in other ways, as you can see. You can also see that someone (I suspect teenagers) wrote a funny reply to the hotel stationery in the hall by the elevator. :)

In my misguided cheapskate WiFi quest, I ended up on South Congress Avenue. I got out on a whim, to take a picture of this awesome burger lady here. It was a great little area. I ended up walking a dozen or more blocks north, just basking in the urban nocturnality of it all. The phallic motel sign was one of the more interesting sights, as were the completely great store display windows and Jo’s, a cute little sidewalk restaurant.

The most interesting (in several ways) part of the evening was my conversation with Richard Wayne Way. As he says, he is “One Hundred Percent Homeless.” He had the gregariousness I have almost come to expect from street folks, and he was most definitely a bit tipsy (but only a bit), but he was also just basically friendly. He reminded me of people I’ve known in Washington, Indiana, and North Carolina.

His story was heart-wrenching. I was painfully aware of the possibility that he might not be completely honest, but in the end I decided to just believe him. I had already given him the change in my pockets, and he had to know he was more likely to get larger donations (and he did) from other passersby than from the guy who wanted to take his picture. He told me about his grandchildren, his children, his accomplishments (raising children, buying them houses, living with the same woman for 35 years, successfully driving tractor trailers for nearly as long), and his recent hard times.

As Richard put it, he woke up seven months ago and his wife was dead beside him. He spoke of her in familiar, loving terms, and he got teary-eyed (I’m sure most of it was sincere grief, despite the extra boost from the alcohol) when talking about her. He said he went on a bender when she died, and racked up misdemeanors in three or more communities in Central Texas. Now he was homeless, working community service during the daytime to pay his legal debts, and panhandling at night for beer and luxuries.

Mr. Way was agreeable to having his photo taken. I took several shots at it, due to the low light. I was trying to get environmental lighting, but had to resort to crappy on-camera mini-flash. He and I chatted for 15 or 20 minutes, during which time he loudly admired a 1970s Cadillac convertible that pulled near, received about 3 different offerings of leftover food from restaurants, and a $20 bill from someone. He seemed shocked at the last gift, though he said the food was common. “You can’t go hungry in this town!” I personally noticed that no single women or single men gave him anything; it was all men who were obviously out on dates with women. Perhaps nonprofit foundations should be alerted to this fact.

I think my favorite moment was when we were chatting, and he was telling me about the kinds of trouble he’d gotten into. “Well, I got misdemeanors and s***, you know, nothing serious. No felonies. And I never had no violent crimes or nothing like that…” at this point, a young lady walked by with another female friend, both dressed for clubbing, “it’s always been liquor and BEAUTIFUL WOMEN that I’ve had troubles with.” He was smiling about a foot wide as the women hurried away up the sidewalk.

I asked him what he planned to do with his take for the night. He said, “Add it to the $75 already in this pocket.” He explained that he used a lot of his money to buy beer, noting that he never felt drunk, and figuring that was probably a bad sign. He said he hadn’t slept indoors in weeks, and planned use his recent windfall to check into a nearby motel (I think the one with the phallic neon sign, as it was just down the street) for a night and have a soft bed and a hot shower, for once. He planned to stay until they kicked him out the next day. I think that’s what I might have done, too.