The Good, The Bad, and The Waxy

Farewell bland Texas town, I’m going home.

Thank god.

I’m ready. I’ve been here to keep Derek company while he worked at a job site, which meant seeing him only for a couple of hours each evening, and filling my days with culture, work, and relaxation.

One out of three isn’t bad.

I’ve managed to relax, for realz and for the first time in, like, ever. I read whole book in about eighteen hours. I’ve ordered room service and watched bad tv. But I’m done now. I can only relax so much, and only so long in a bland hotel room in a bland city. I miss my house, my DVDs, and even my lackluster cable lineup -and I’m not even a tv lover. I’ve tried to explore and find some Texas culture, but being in this city is like spending too much time in a huge Chili’s. It looks exotic, but it’s really the same as everywhere else.

My one bright spot, besides the gorgeous San Antonio Library (with a used bookshop in the basement!!!) was touring the wonderfully horrible Louis Tussaud’s Plaza Wax Museum, right across the street from the somber and colorless Alamo.

It was the stuff of a kitsch lover’s dreams. It featured:

Julia Roberts, with something just plain wrong about her

An unrecognizable Jody Foster. Seriously.

Our esteemed sixteenth president, getting felt up by a confederate soldier.

And Clay Aiken, at the Battle of the Alamo.


There was also The Land of Imagination, where fairy tales were represented in waxed diorama glory, and the ubiquitous (at least in wax museums) Passion of Christ corridor, which was much more frightening than the Dungeon of Horror. But what will really scared me, and will haunt me for many nights to come was…

Jay Leno


Goodnight San Antonio.

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