this writer’s life: What it Means to be a Texan

You may or may not be know it, but this writer is a 6th-generation Texan. In the past (mainly when I lived in Texas), this unique lineage was a large source of pride. But recently (I’ve spent the last four years away from the motherland), my heritage has seemed to fade under the spotlight of more pressing matters. But every once in a while, the the “twang” reignites. And sometimes, it takes just a little spark. In this case, the “spark” came in the form of a forward from my Aunt (in Texas). I reproduce said forward here for your reading (dis)pleasure.

Texas Tech, UT, and an Aggie

A Texas Tech graduate, a University of Texas grad and a Texas Aggie were sitting in a bar in San Antonio. The view of the river was fantastic, the beer was ice cold and the food exceptional.

‘But,’ said the guy from Tech, ‘I still prefer the beer joints back in Lubbock. There’s one place where the owner goes out of his way for the locals. When you buy 4 beers, he will buy the 5th.’ The Longhorn said ‘Well, at my local bar in Austin, the owner will buy your 3rd drink after you’ve bought 2.’

‘Hell, that’s nothing’,’ the Aggie responded. ‘Back in College Station there’s this bar where the moment you set foot in the place they’ll buy you a drink and keep them coming all night. Then when you’ve had enough to drink, they take you upstairs and see that you get laid. And it’s all on the house.’

The Red Raider and the Longhorn immediately doubted the Aggie’s claims. ‘And this actually happened to you?’ asked the Tech grad.

‘No, not me personally,’ admitted the Aggie. ‘But it did happen to my sister.’

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