San Antonio: One person's trash is another's treasure

"Why don't we live here?" we exclaimed, enjoying our stroll along San Antonio's beautiful River Walk. Austin was kicking our Western New York rears, welcome-wagon-wise. "Ya know," our Texas insider confided, "most people (not me, of course) think San Antonio houses the trashier element of the population." 

We were shocked. San Antonio was delightful. A gem. 

Turns out this cubic zirconiam of cities has no problem with the opinions proclaimed by the over-inflated ego of its neighbor, Austin. In fact, one of its own ad campaigns sought to "Keep San Antonio Lame" in an effort to keep Austin-excess out. Traffic is not as terrifying in San Antonio...although someone did thoughtfully leave a step-ladder in the middle of the freeway.  Housing does not require multiple organ donations. The city features turtle races, a toilet seat art museum, AND the world's biggest cowboy boots. Who is going to turn their nose up at THAT?!?

We were only going to be in San Antonio for a few hours so we stuck to the River Walk. Flowers, fountains, statues, sculptures, and mosaics lined the paths curving along the gentle river. Bridges and spiral staircases invited exploration. Unique shops and restaurants slowed our steps. I inadvertently foiled Savannah's wish to ride the little tour boat through the canal-like waterway but we did manage to catch snippets of San Antonio's history and cultural tid-bits. "Did he say Ghostbusters?" I asked. Savannah pointed to the building behind us. "He said that that building there, The Tower Life Building, was the inspiration for the big, final battle in the movie." Huh. We took the obligatory picture but this fun-fact could not be verified based on my hard-core five minutes of research. 

Our only qualm that we detected during our brief, but again, delightful visit, was that San Antonio appeared to be a carry-in/carry-out city. "Are there NO trash receptacles in this city?" I asked, looking to dispose of my mozzarella-stuffed pretzel bites container.  "Throw it over the fence into this park," Joan suggested. "I can't do that!" I protested. "No. Look," she grinned, "The sign says Fine for Littering." "Never-mind," I sighed, getting back in the car, "Let's take the trash back to Austin."