We're still trying to collect all the stamps in our 175th Anniversary passport, so we decide to head for San Antonio, where we can pick up the one for the Alamo and where we can visit the missions again. We'd been to them a couple of decades ago and always wanted to go back.
We'd top the trip off with a run to Gonzales, which we'd visited over the July 4 weekend. We didn't get a stamp there because you have to go to the Chamber of Commerce, which was closed, and we couldn't find anyway.
The summer decided to be freakishly hot, but we were encouraged to hear that a tropical storm was bearing down on Texas, and its path would take it close enough to San Antone to dump some rain and make it cooler during our stay.
Then TS Don came on shore and the Texas heat sucked the life out of it. Still, Internet weather prognosticators said we'd have clouds and somewhat cooler temps, and for the most part, they were correct. They neglected to mention the winds would be light, dying off in the afternoons and evenings, with enough humidity to suck the life out of us.
I determined we should hit the road by 10 a.m. Saturday. We woke too early and ended up leaving a bit after 9. But given my track record for getting lost and having to drive in at least one circle despite owning and using a GPS, I figured we wouldn't actually arrive any earlier.
We didn't wind up making a circle, but we did have to contend with I-35 traffic, which can come to a standstill for no apparent reason and usually does. We arrived at the hotel precisely, or nearly so, at check-in time. After stowing our stuff, we headed for the Alamo.
We parked in a nearby parking garage associated with the River Center mall, thinking it would be easy to return to.
At the Alamo, I forget to take my hat off when we enter the main building. A volunteer catches my eye and quite sternly says, "Sir. Your hat." From his tone you would think I committed some unspeakable act. Then I see the sign that reminds me this is a "shrine" and "hallowed ground."
I know the story, what happened there 175 years ago. Depending on your perspective, the battle was either an amazing sacrifice for freedom, or a preventable waste of good lives. Given my Texas birth, I know which side I'm supposed to be on, but honestly this shrine and holy ground stuff is a bit much.
Only the one area qualifies. The rest of the grounds and buildings can be wandered at will -- with a hat on -- and no one minds, even though Texians and Tejanos died everywhere. Later, in a video, we're told the state Lege passed a law declaring the site to be a shrine. Oh, well. If it's a law.
I behave for the rest of our stay, and then we head for the Riverwalk. We'll spend a couple of hours walking about, grabbing some Mexican food and then head for the car. Now we're in trouble.
We return to street level in the wrong place and don't recognize the surroundings. We have a map and head the direction we think we're supposed to be going, but nothing is familiar. We try a different tack but that's not helpful either.
We stop and sit on a concrete pylon to try to puzzle out from the map where we are, and small, quite inebriated Hispanic woman comes up to us, wanting to know what we're doing. Sharon tells her we're trying how to figure out how to get to the River Center garage, so she calls over her equally inebriated husband, who has prosthetics on both legs and is wheelchair bound.
He gives us directions that almost make sense and asks for money for food. I know he's not going to use the money for food, but I give him a couple of bucks just so the couple will quit bothering us. They shout directions at us as we move off in the indicated direction, but decide not to cut through another parking garage as they've urged us.
Downtown San Antonio is awash with people moving from who knows where to somewhere else. Eventually we spot a gang of bicycle cops hanging out on a corner, chatting or just staring. I walk up to one of the starers and ask how to get to the garage we're looking for.
He tells me to keep going the direction we're headed, and it'll be on our left. Sure enough, we spot the sign in a couple of blocks. Relieved that we've finally arrived and needing to sit and recover from the now oppressive heat and humidity, we head for the tier our car is located on.
Only it's not there.
In fact, the parking spot is not there. We quickly discover there are two parking garages with the same name, and we're in the wrong one. Back to the street.
Once we figure out where the Alamo is, we're in good shape and find the garage. Our first few minutes are spent just sitting, enjoying the air conditioner. The next challenge will be finding the hotel. The GPS has lost its signal, and we don't have a good map. We'll have to exit the garage and drive around a bit until the GPS reacquires.
When it does, it leads us down a busted-up road through an industrial section of town but finally delivers us to a recognizable highway and back to the hotel. Our first adventure is over. We're exhausted and will sleep very well, but we've had a good day.
In Part Two, we'll visit Sea World and the Missions, where we'll have another travel adventure.
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