Networking is hard. Part II

“What am I walking into…?” he asked as we walked up to something that looked like a house in East Austin that was apparently a bar and clothing boutique.

“I honestly have no idea,” I told the Boy who’d come to visit me for the weekend. As we walked up the front stairs with Elizabeth, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t question my decision to come to the event. At least it was free.

“You can’t go in the front door” giggled a girl with short bangs, winged eyeliner, and a blue polka dot dress. “We tried that last time. It’s this way.”

We followed the girl and her friend down the driveway, to the back gate. The backyard was glittering with Christmas lights, strung among the trees like little lines of dancing fairies.

The backyard was full of people – I’m not sure if it was a “sold out” event or if it was just because the backyard was small – but it was overwhelmingly crowded with people at tables, booths, and waiting in line at the food truck in the back. Girls in high-waisted denim, thick-rimmed glasses, vintage lace, tattoos, and combat boots were waiting in line to have their Tarot cards read by a blonde woman in an oversized tea dress. There were even a few trendy children running around…

After a quick scan of the yard, we determined that the alcohol would be inside, so we rounded the corner to head towards the house. Before we could make it inside, Elizabeth and I got distracted by a tee shirt at a booth that said “I’m fucking awesome,” because it was basically perfect. Oddly enough, complimenting the designer on her shirt led to a speech on what her definition of feminism was. Huh.

We eventually made it inside and ordered our drinks, which were surprisingly cheap. As we walked back outside to attempt to be social, I paused on the deck and surveyed the yard again. I pinched myself to make sure it was actually happening, because my environment was like being thrown into an episode of Portlandia.

We had a few drinks and looked at some of the other booths but left early in favor of our local bar, Delaney’s. As hipster as my brother claims I am, sometimes it can get a bit overwhelming.

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