Chapter 73: College Towns

Wednesday, January 4, 1984

We wound up eating breakfast at a restaurant named The Kettle, which was a short walk away. It was one of those places that felt like it must have been there forever and probably had an endless number of stories to tell. The food was good, plentiful, and cheap, which I’m sure made it a hit with students.

We met Kenny Platt at his office, which was located in a strip mall south of campus. It was actually a bit hard to find, but we managed.

Kenny himself was a middle-aged, slightly heavy guy who seemed nice enough, if just slightly smarmy. One advantage of growing up with Dad was the ability to quickly distinguish someone who was a ‘salesman’ from someone who was actually good at sales. Kenny seemed like the former.

The morning bore that out. He steadfastly ignored the things we said we wanted and showed us much more traditional student housing. The notion that we might actually buy a house seemed to escape him entirely.

Admittedly, it seemed questionable on its face. How were four seventeen-year-olds going to buy a house, after all? But he never asked the questions that would have established that we could, and he redirected away from our attempts to tell him anything.

The whole thing wasn’t a complete waste of time. We learned a fair bit about which neighborhoods were candidates and which were a waste of time, what sort of properties were out there, and how they were marketed to (often clueless) incoming students.

Still, it wasn’t finding us a house.

Kenny wrapped up around one. We thanked him (more out of obligation than gratitude), said goodbye, and headed to lunch.

We had lunch at Bryan/College Station’s only mall (most people referred to them that way, and abbreviated it to ‘B/CS’ or just ‘BCS’). Post Oak Mall was a smallish mall by Houston standards, but it had all of the required elements of a mall including a decent, if not spectacular, food court. Most of the lunch conversation revolved around Kenny and what a waste of time that’d been, but everyone agreed that we’d learned something.

We also agreed that we’d have to come back later either later in January or in February. We had the time, but we couldn’t let things get away from us.

Since we were ‘at the mall anyway’ (of course, they’d picked it), the girls all wanted to see what the mall shopping options were. The consensus was ‘good enough.’ Houston wasn’t that far away, and none of them were really big shoppers, but window-shopping was a priority, and they’d need to buy things sometimes. The area was lacking in shopping opportunities compared to big cities, of course, but for its size it had considerably more than one would expect.

Of course, that was because of the large student population, which brought in quite a lot of disposable income and demand. As with nearly all college towns, the economy of Bryan and College Station would collapse without the students at A&M, and everyone pretty much knew it.

I had to wonder how the town had fared during the pandemic. I hadn’t paid much attention to it. In retrospect (if that word applies to something over thirty years in the future), while both Bryan and College Station had grown considerably over the decades, and had much more in the way of businesses that didn’t depend on (or cater to) the students, I imagined it must have been very tough going. They’d probably managed, but I was certain many businesses must have gone under.

We spent the afternoon touring the cities, driving hither and yon, stopping in at stores large and small. I think we visited every grocery store in town, with all of us evaluating their offerings. Between the stores we’d be able to find the things we needed, but none of them hit the sweet spot perfectly. We’d likely go to the cheaper stores for commodity products and the more expensive stores for meats and vegetables.

I found the whole place more and more welcoming the more time we spent there. Compared to Austin, it was so much less cramped and built up and urbanized, even by 1984 standards. Compared to West Lafayette, on the other hand, the towns were a bit more self-sufficient and offered both more shopping and more to do.

I was sure we’d find problems. For one thing, the area was much more conservative than Austin (though 1984 Austin wasn’t 2020 Austin, either). That would undoubtedly affect our lives, given who we were. I suspected the ‘townies’ probably looked down on the students just as much here as anywhere else, too.

Still, we could do well here for four years. After that? Maybe we’d stay, and maybe we’d move. Maybe we’d even move apart for a while (meaning Angie and Paige together, not splitting the couples), if one graduate school was ideal for them and another was ideal for us. Who knew? We had time to figure that out.

None of us were super-hungry for dinner. After some discussion, Angie suggested the cafeteria at the Memorial Student Center (or the MSC, which I was sure we would all call it in no time). I wasn’t sure that it would be open, but it turned out that it was, so we headed over there.

The MSC would definitely be one of those things where we would need to learn the traditions. There were polite little signs around it asking everyone to stay off the grass, because it (and the entire MSC) was a memorial to Aggies killed while in military service. There were similar signs asking people to please remove their hats once they went inside.

It was a strong reminder of the military-school culture that lingered at A&M nearly twenty years after it became optional to be a member of the Corps of Cadets. I was sure we’d have many more reminders. None of us had any trouble with that. As ‘liberal’ as we all were in many ways, none of us were opposed to the military. We didn’t want to serve, but we were thankful that others did.

Of course, there’s always a fine line between supporting those who serve and the uses the military is put towards, particularly between supporting those who serve and those who do terrible things while serving. The thing was, I doubted anyone here would support the use of the military to bad ends, and I suspected incidents like My Lai horrified the cadets just as much as they horrified the rest of us.

I knew from (future) history that A&M would be quite welcoming of Vietnamese students within a few years’ time. What we’d read indicated that was true now, too, but until we’d lived there, we wouldn’t know for sure.

Similarly, I knew that (unless we’d broken something) A&M would have an official Gay and Lesbian student organization within the next year. That might be popular with a few people that I knew.

The cafeteria itself was pretty much a cafeteria. The food was pretty good, there was plenty of it, and it wasn’t expensive. None of it was anything to write home about, but it was fine.

We’d all read up on dining options. Off-campus students could purchase several levels of dining plans. We would likely all pick one of the more restrictive options. It wouldn’t make sense to trudge back home in the middle of the day to get lunch, and packing a lunch might not always be practical.

On the other hand, we’d seldom (but probably not never) eat breakfast or dinner on-campus. Never say never. 8am classes and 8pm classes have a way of messing with your dining schedule.

By the time we were done, most of the shops in the MSC were closing down for the night, as was the cafeteria. The building itself would remain open, of course, and I imagined it might be busy at all hours of the day and night when the students were in town.

We’d seen a few, of course, but most of the ones we’d seen looked like graduate students to me. There was very little to bring any of the undergraduates back before classes started, after all.

Jas and I took a bit of opportunity for dessert when we got back, but mostly wound up snuggling.

“Well, that was mostly a waste of time,” she said. “Kenny was just annoying.”

“Some of it was good. We learned a bunch of things that’ll be helpful. We just didn’t find the house yet.”

“True enough. I’m impatient!” she said, giggling.

“I want to find it, too. We’ll come back in two weeks, probably, unless we have to go to Austin that weekend.”

“Do you think Angie’s going to tell Paige?”

“I’m not sure. There’d probably be more pressure if we’d found a house. Still...” I said, then paused. Then I said, “Maybe — likely — it’s better without the pressure. You knew I was somewhat ‘forced’ to tell you, and maybe that made things harder.”

“Or maybe it made them easier. I’m not sure now.”

“We’ll see. Up to Angie, and she may not know until later.”

“True enough.”

We talked a bit longer, then snuggled up and went to sleep.

Thursday, January 5, 1984

We decided on The Kettle again. It’d been good yesterday, and it was still good today. Consistency is definitely a virtue for a restaurant, at least if it’s consistently good.

Angie and Paige had finally determined to head to San Antonio for a couple of nights. It was a nice tourist city, and there was plenty for them to do downtown. We’d been there less than a month ago, of course, but that had just left Angie and Paige wanting more sightseeing. Angie had already called the Hilton and had a room booked.

I had a reservation at the Hilton in Austin. It was yet another hotel I’d stayed in before (with Mom and Dad, in both this life and my first life), and one that I knew would change considerably over the following decades.

Not as much as the mall adjacent to it, though. That would become a community college campus twenty or thirty years from now.

Angie and I got a moment alone when Jas and Paige went to the restroom. I don’t think it was intentional on Jasmine’s part (or Paige’s), but it was definitely useful.

As soon as they left, Angie said, “I’ve decided. I’m going to tell Paige tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to be there? I can change reservations.”

“No,” she said, but she slightly hesitated. “Maybe? Look ... I think it should be just between us. I think it’ll go better, especially because ... well, she’ll know Jasmine knows, but it’s not the same as Jasmine being there and knowing. Plus, it’s really about us, not the four of us.”

I nodded. “All of that makes sense.”

“Still, if something goes wrong...”

“How about we go to Austin as planned, but we only stay one night? We’ll come down to San Antonio and stay ... well...”

I hesitated. Angie needed to be able to reach us, but we couldn’t stay at the Hilton. If all went well, we’d want there to be no chance of Paige spotting us.

Angie shook her head. “I really can’t imagine there’ll be a panic, and that just creates another secret — that you came down to San Antonio. You standing by is fine. Being so worried that you’re secretly in town isn’t.”

“That...” I said, wanting to argue, but knowing Angie was right. “I agree. We’ll be back at the Hilton in Austin by one. It’s only an hour and a half or so from downtown Austin to downtown San Antonio.”

“Driving how fast?” she said.

“Not wildly fast.”

She grinned. “If you haven’t heard anything by six, go to dinner. We’re either fine or I think we’ll be fine.”

“That works.”

“No news will be good news. If you haven’t heard anything by the time you’re back from dinner, the worst is that we’re talking. I won’t call unless she’s stormed off. That includes if things go really well.”

Jas and Paige came back, so we dropped it. I don’t think either of them were suspicious.

After breakfast, we headed back to the hotel and hung out for a bit before checking out around ten-thirty and heading down to the parking lot.

“Two o’clock at...” I said, once we’d gotten there.

“The pizza place,” Angie said, with Paige nodding.

“Pizza place it is,” I said.

Jasmine said, “Sounds good! We’ll see you there!”

“If you need to reach us, we’ll be at the usual Hilton,” Angie said.

“And we’ll be at the Hilton near Highland Mall,” I said.

We hugged again, then got in our cars and headed out.

Jas said, “Do you think Angie’s going to tell her?”

“She is. She told me while you and Paige were in the restroom.”

“I thought maybe you’d been talking about something. Are you worried?”

“Not really. Maybe? But really, no. Still, I told her we’d go back to the hotel tomorrow afternoon and hang out there. We’re not that far away if there’s a problem.”

“We could drive down to San Antonio,” she said.

“Angie vetoed that. We’d be sneaking around, and it’d be a secret we either couldn’t tell Paige, or we’d have to admit that we were seriously worried about how she’d take it.”

“She’s got a point,” Jas said, then sighed. “I hope it goes well! I mean, of course, but still.”

“Me, too!”

We held hands as I navigated my way out of town, swinging by West Campus before turning north to meet the road to Austin. It wasn’t the most efficient route, but it was an interesting route.