I’ve been in this city all 20 years of my life. For the past five years or so I’ve been attending concerts in Deep Ellum and getting to know the streets downtown. It’s a slow, slow work in progress. My brain does not comprehend directions. I’m always disgruntled because, I guess, I was never “gruntled” to begin with. But I’ve managed to familiarize myself with the major streets in downtown – Main, Elm, Live Oak, Commerce, etc.

Austin is a place that I am not familiar with at all. I made the 200-mile journey alone, keeping myself awake with music. I got directions off the Internet and just set off with no more than a half hour of serious planning and another half hour of packing. I threw together a backpack with some books, my iPod, my laptop, a spiral notebook, some pens and pencils, and a copy of Dustin Kensrue’s album (for autographing purposes). I left Dallas at a little after 6 a.m. on Friday morning.

I knew from the map that I would be passing UT Austin before I hit downtown. I planned to stop on campus, take a little tour, and (if I was lucky) meet up with some friends (which never happened, as all the Austin kids I knew were very likely back in Dallas for Spring Break). With my uncannily sharp sense of direction to guide me, I homed in on the nearest parking garage (which happened to be the last general parking garage on campus, and of course it was farthest away from where I was headed). The weather was only slightly chilly until the sun came up; its warm rays canceled out the wind’s edge. Even so, I went back and forth between wearing my jacket and schlepping it around behind me for the first couple of hours.

I didn’t find my friends, but I did manage to find my way to Sixth Street. Things started picking up once I ran into the Naked Cowboy. He was walking right down the middle of Sixth Street wearing nothing but huge muscles and unashamedly white briefs. I remembered seeing him on “The Tonight Show” or something similar some months ago, and I whipped out my camera phone to grab a picture (because, like a true winner, I didn’t even think once about dragging along a camera). He saw my phone and immediately turned and flexed. I was impressed and immediately felt inferior. I walked away quickly.

Sixth Street held more surprises for me once I emerged into the daylight. I noticed an odd group of men standing in the middle of the road, all five of them dressed in matching white jeans and white track jackets. The band (I wrote the name down somewhere) was filming a little song and dance skit for “The Tonight Show,” and they kept screwing it up. It was pretty entertaining to watch. The best part for me, though, was standing next to The Flaming Lips lead singer Wayne Coyne as he interviewed the guys.

Since I couldn’t afford to purchase a pass (and hadn’t planned on attending this year at all), I was shut out of all the “major” events and shows. My aim was to see Dustin Kensrue perform. It was free, so that was good enough for me. Luckily, many of the other shows at the lesser-known venues were hosting free shows as well. I hung out at the Red-Eyed fly and caught a legendary performance by underground hip-hop master El-Producto, or El-P. His beats were amazing, and the extremely skilled Mr. Dibbs provided the spins and scratches. Buck 65, a rapper from Canada with a DJ named Paul, delivered monotone, almost spoken-word raps with a country boy twist. I think one of his songs was about a tractor…in any case, it was an excellent performance.

After a long day in the sun (and knowing that I had a long, long drive ahead), I decided to call it quits early, missing the show I so desperately wanted to see. It turned out to be a good choice; the drive took four hours, and I had to keep the music blaring to stay awake. It was an amazing experience, very free-spirited and Bohemian, an orgy of music and art. I recommend making the trip; I will be returning. Maybe next year I can convince the DC to get me a press pass. Or not.