Life in ATX Amid a Global Pandemic

Life in the Live Music Capital of the world has been quiet lately.

Two years ago, I made the decision to move across the country from Ann Arbor, MI to Austin, TX. I moved for my husband’s job. As an emerging tech city, Austin provided a plethora of opportunities for software developers like him.

I never liked living in Michigan. It’s cold. It snows almost half of the year, and, in the 15 years I lived there, I rarely encountered someone who moved to Michigan. Mostly, people stayed there, begrudgingly, to be close to family. We accepted this as we woke up an hour early November through March to dig our cars out of snow and white-knuckle drive on icy roads.

Crazy at it sounds, for the first 25 years of my life, I too believed that where you lived was largely decided by where your family lived. The moment I agreed to move to Austin, TX was when I realized I had agency over where I lived and didn’t have to keep living in a place that didn’t make me happy.

In March, we moved from the suburban area of Austin to its trendy east side – the part of the city where you can find an amazing breakfast taco on every corner and are only a 20-minute walk away from downtown (10 minutes if you are extra on-brand and take Lime scooter).

It’s been a little disappointing to not get to fully embrace our new surroundings amid the enforced quarantine, but it’s also been encouraging to experience the community that exists here.

At our local HEB (a grocery store chain in Texas), I saw a man go out of his way to sanitize the

cart of an elderly woman before she proceeded grocery shopping. At Costco, while waiting in a long checkout line, a lady tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Excuse me dear, can you pass me the granola bars behind you.” When I did, her response was “Bless you.” Even during a global pandemic, southern charm still exists.

I love Austin. In recent years it’s become a city that welcomes approximately 35 new

Chico and I doing a virtual workout during quarantine.

residents every day (120 if you include neighboring counties). You can certainly feel it during your morning commute. However, when I park my car in my company’s parking garage, I have a great view of the Austin skyline and it reminds me that I am lucky to live in a place where so many people are trying to live too. Bonus: it never snows here.

I’ve always liked E.B. White’s essay, “Here is New York,” and remember reading it the first time and thinking I’d love to find a city like the one he described – the city that represents an achieved goal.

He wrote, “There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born here, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size and turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter – the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is the New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Of these three trembling cities the greatest is the last – the city of final destination, the city that is a goal.”

Like New York City, I believe there are three Austins. The city that belongs to the self-proclaimed “unicorns”, the people who were born and raised in Austin and will happily recount the days they could get from one end of the city to the other in 20 minutes during rush hour. They aren’t pretentious or resentful towards the influx of Austinites, and often ask, “So where are y’all from?” as soon as they detect your neutral, non-Texan accent.

There is the Austin of the commuter. The people who live in the surrounding areas of Bastrop, Kyle, and Round Rock to afford a home and raise their families. Most of your conversations with these Austinites will center around the traffic on I-35 and how Austin still hasn’t built the public transportation infrastructure to support its million residents. While they detest the traffic, they appreciate the city. I recently asked a commuter colleague if she’d like to meet for drinks after work and her response was, “Well, if I’m coming all the way into Austin, it better be for drinks, dinner, and a night on the town!”

The Austin of the newcomer is my city. Its residents are like my husband and I, moving from nowhere in the Midwest, searching for better jobs in an exciting, up-and-coming city. Many have moved from places like California, in search of a similar lifestyle, but with the added bonus of actually being able to afford a house. Together with the unicorns and the commuters, I believe we’ve helped establish Austin as a city of innovation and growth – one that has attracted companies like Apple and Amazon vying to build their headquarters on Austin’s skyline.

It certainly will take all of us to find the new normal post-COVID-19.

Amid a global pandemic, I am thankful to be in a place like Austin. As I write this, the patio door is open and a light, refreshing breeze comes in every now and then. I’m sipping a Deep Eddy’s Ruby Red vodka tonic. The restaurant across the street is playing Amy Winehouse’s Valerie even though their dining areas are still closed. Occasionally, a dog barks on a neighboring patio and my dog responds (Austin is a very dog-friendly community).

When friends or family check-in and ask how we’re doing, I tell them all is well. It’s the truth.