Amy Mosiman: Texas Tour Guide

 "Who wants to walk the half mile to get to the state capitol building?" Lisa, our native Texan asked as we stood on the sidewalk following our Duck tour, slowly being baked by the scorching southwest sun.

This sounded like a horrible idea.

"I do! I do!" I yelled. Douglas grabbed Sydney as she suddenly lunged at me. I gave him a subtle, appreciative nod. He was right. It was too hot for her to be hugging me at the moment.

Never was a group of weary travelers happier to reach a historic site. 

"Do you serve drinks here?" I asked the nice young man directing me through the metal detectors. The giant belt buckles worn by EVERYONE (men, women, and infants) must really give those machines a run for their money. He gave me a long, appreciative look. Not surprising because I looked especially adorable in my olive green stretchy romper. I noticed him try to discreetly point me out to his friends. "I'm married," I gently told him. This revelation seemed to startle him.  More likely, he was just disappointed. No matter. We wouldn't want him living in a fantasy world.

Despite the lack of alcohol (Helpful tip:  When touring government buildings...and I know you want
to...byob), we were relieved by the refreshing change in temperature. Lisa, our native Texan, excused herself for some important legislative business on the second floor that occupied her for the remainder of the trip. Fortunately, thanks to my New York 4th grade Social Studies curriculum, I was well-versed on Texas history. Extolling the background of famed frontiersman, Davy Crockett, our tiny tour-guide (who turned out to be the actress who attempted to purge the poltergeists from the movie of the same name...I recognized her by her distinct voice...only now it had a Texas twang to it) was thrilled to have me insert helpful fun facts. I mean, so what if the guy never actually managed to pass a single piece of legislation during his three terms. Give a guy a break. He fought a bear when he was only three. It's not his fault he peaked early. 

The polite (and, apparently, infatuated) young man by the metal detectors suddenly appeared and suggested that the tour group would only slow us down and perhaps we'd like to tour at our own pace. How thoughtful.

The rotunda of the state capitol building is AMAZING. The floor mural features the six countries that have been politically partnered with the great state of Texas since 1519.  "Apparently no one lived here before then," I observed before noticing my new friend again lurking nearby. I had already made Joan race up four stories so I could take an aerial shot of the rotunda ceiling...not realizing that Douglas had anticipated that I would want a familiar face in that picture and was already there. "He is so thoughtful," I told Sydney, who, for some reason, was looking a tad-bit grumpy. You'd have thought she'd be grateful that I'd (gently and humorously) straightened out her incorrect assumption that David Bowie had courageously died defending the Alamo in front of about 100 people. "Yeah, Mom. He went up there FOR you. NOT to get AWAY from you." 

When Joan returned from the 4th floor, I had her accompany me back up there at a more leisurely pace. Sadly, the library archives were closed but you could look down into the room from the balcony. "You know, it wouldn't be that hard to drop down in there," I pointed out. "You could step out onto the ledge, dangle down by your arms, swing a bit to get to the second ledge beneath it, parkour to the top of the bookcase and then shimmy down." Metal detector man suddenly appeared and made some fun alternative tour suggestions. 

Somehow, the tour group had caught up with us. The guide was pointing out that the star on the rotunda floor mirrored the star centered in the reverse rotunda's arched ceiling. "Yeah," I added helpfully, "and it also serves as a disguised drain!" Metal detector man asked if I had seen the elevators yet.

Joan and I dedicated A LOT of time trying to gain access to the spiral stairs discreetly tucked into the architecture at the top of the rotunda ceiling. We ultimately failed in our quest but we DID locate a mysterious unmarked (UNLOCKED) door hidden in an alcove. We peered cautiously into the darkness before cautiously tip-toeing in to discover...the secret vending machine reserved only for important dignitaries and politicians. I guess we'd have to settle for Coke instead of cocktails. 

As our group gathered to depart (Capitol staff lined the door on either side as a sweet send-off), Lisa breathlessly re-appeared. "Did y'all have fun?" she panted. "Is Lisa ashamed of us?" I whispered, worried, to Savannah. My daughter hesitated. "Not us," Savannah assured me. Whew. I turned to wave a fond farewell to my new friend, standing on the top step with an alarming weapon strapped across his chest. "Folks here are so welcoming," I exclaimed, before immediately wilting under the hot Texas sun. "Who wants to walk a half mile to the nearest bar?" Lisa asked.

"We do! We do!" we shouted.