There comes a time in every father’s life where he looks at his vagabond past and realizes that it’s no place for his children to grow and thrive. No more country hopping, no more regaining consciousness in the medians of unknown roads. Onwards and upwards to the future. So aside from a quick and not too dirty trip to Amsterdam without the family, I try to keep my nose clean and out of trouble. Which makes my trip to Amsterdam sound like a cocaine-fueled binge-fest which I can half-heartedly assure you it wasn’t. There were lots of biscuits, that much is true.
Adventures are now close to home – e.g. the 2010 Austin Marathon – it could all be achieved through getting up really early and staying fairly close to the wife and toddler. The last great journey is into the self and all that jazz (which I interpret as chugging Newcastle Brown Ale alone in the dark in my living room).
There is however, a whole slice of intrigue pie that awaits on my very doorstep.
What I’m talking about is 12th and Chicon. An area of mystery and intrigue. Of folklore and legend. And people drinking out of containers wrapped in brown paper which somehow make the hidden contents innocuous and acceptable. And right at this famous intersection, there awaits Club Fourty. Unreviewed by hipsters on Yelp! With a truly fantastic door policy:
- You Must Be 37 yrs Old To Enter This Club
- Our Dress Code Requires That You Have A Shirt Shows And Pants On… No Sagging Pants Allowed
- No Muscle Shirts, No Bandanas Allowed
- No Ballcaps Turned Backwards
- No Backpacks Allowed Inside Club
- No Cups Or Cans Can Be Brought Into Or Taken Off These Premises
- No Loitering or Panhandling
If anyone has checked it out, please leave a comment and let me know what it’s like until I can get out there and see for myself. I hope you don’t have to be exactly 37 years old, and I’m glad that there is no loitering here. Clearly the absence of such a sign around the corner invites people to loiter there willy-nilly. And I’m glad that the club distinguishes between loitering (where the perpetrator has no real purpose) and panhandling, where he or she clearly does.
Interesting that there were three times as many crimes around the middle of Sixth Street in October 2010 than there were around 12th and Chicon. So I’m probably safer at Club Fourty than I am at Treasure Island. I won’t let this diminish my sense of adventure though. Who’s coming with?
I like the comparison of crime. Possession of drug paraphernalia? Prostitution? Compare those crimes at 12th and Chicon with Assault with Injury and Public Intoxication on 6th. Safer on the east side, for sure. So I’m with you — as long as you don’t request a Newcastle Brown. I don’t expect they would have that on tap.
Safer on the East side, though you could argue that there are 7 million people at Sixth Street, whereas only the same 42 unsavory characters at 12th and Chicon. I agree with you though – East gets a bad rap.
Couldnt agree more with that, very attractive article
I turn 37 in a little less than a month. Perhaps I have a destination in mind now?
OMG – we should totally go!