Friday the 13th

I'm going to use this blog post to tell a story.

I know I usually tell stories on this blog, but this one is a little different. I usually do everything possible to avoid the "diary disease" that sometimes comes across in blogs. That is irritating to me, because no one really wants to read your diary (unless they're really nosey, I guess). I just like to post observations about the weather, agriculture, travel and such without sounding like a narrator. So, consider this story time, and please excuse any diary disease that may be evident. It will not be contagious.

Part I

I can't say I've ever flown on a Friday the 13th. Typically, that's a day of bad luck.

But, I flew last Friday the 13th to San Antonio. I took the day off from work to meet Byron in San Antonio. He had been there most of the week for a conference for work. About a month ago, we both decided that would be a good opportunity for the two of us to get away and explore the Texas Hill Country.

So, I flew from Lubbock at 7am and landed in San Antonio three hours later.

Byron still had a session left in his conference, so after picking me up from the airport, I just hung out on the famous River Walk. The La Mansion del Rio hotel where he had stayed all week was built in the mid-1800s when Texas was still a part of Mexico. The architecture is vividly Spanish and sits right on the River Walk's edge.

I spent about 30 minutes on the balcony outside the room taking in the scenes on the River Walk, which has always been one of my favorite places, and most definitely a Texas icon.
I strolled across the foot bridge that linked the El Mansion del Rio to the other side of the River Walk. I didn't realize it then, but that bridge and the other side would become a rather important place in the story of my life. After Byron's conference had come to a close, we set out from San Antonio north to a small, flavorful town called Gruene. I had visited the town twice before to float the Guadalupe River in a rubber tube - another iconic summer past time in Texas. Gruene is another historic Texas town, filled with shops and restaurants and one of the most famous dancehalls in the country, Gruene Hall.


The Texas Hill Country is somewhat "ground zero" of the Texas music scene. We stopped in Lone Star Music and found a CD from the Hogg Maulies - a band full of guys Byron grew up with, and ultimately the band that first introduced Byron and I three years ago when I was going to graduate school at Texas Tech. (Byron took the picture that graces the cover of the album he's holding up.)

We ate lunch on the banks of the Guadalupe River at the Gruene River Grill.

We spent a little while in Gruene roaming around the shops and taking in the historic culture that brings a gazillion tourists to this area every year.

We then left Gruene and visited with one of Byron's college friends who lives with his wife in New Braunfels. After catching up with them, we headed back to San Antonio for dinner.


Byron had made reservations at a River Walk restaurant called Boudros, so we dined there on a beautiful south Texas winter night. It was near 80 degrees and was a perfect night to be on the River Walk. (It really must have been the perfect night, because everyone and their dog was walking along the river that night.)

After an awesome dinner, we took a walk. Let me say here I was very unsuspecting of anything other than a San Antonio stroll. We walked down the river, and then mosied to the Alamo.

We took our picture on one of the bridges over the river like most silly couples you see.

After walking around for a while, we decided to head to the car and call it a night. On the way back to the car (still on the River Walk), we walked back by the La Mansion del Rio. We walked up on the bridge, but there was a guy hanging out there who was kind of intruding on our space. So, we got back on the River Walk and were heading out when the next 15 minutes of my life became a blur.

People were clapping on the other side of the River Walk. People walking by us were turning around and pointing and staring and clapping. And Byron was on one knee. For the first time in my life, I belive I squeeled. I'm not a squeeler, but I think I squeeled.

After saying "yes" (which was something we had to confirm later in the car, because the moment was such a blur for the both of us), we decided we needed our picture taken. A man and woman walked by and looked like good candidates.

I asked them, "Could you take our picture? We just got engaged."

The man took a long drag on the cigarette in his mouth, looked at Byron and said, "You lucky bastard!"

The woman then said, "That's wonderful. I just got a divorce last week."

Byron replied, "Great. Looks like everyone's happy!"


So, thus began the beginning of our weekend, and the rest of our lives.