2013-06-14 30 -97

Fri 14 Jun 2013 in 30,-97: 30.2891928, -97.8368492 geohashing.info google osm bing/os kml crox

Location

Backyard of Random Rich Person's House, suburbs of Austin, Texas

Participants

• Gerti
• My kind-of-friend-mostly-out-of-lack-of-anyone-else-I-know-that's-just-sad named Alex.

Plans

My extremely calculated and meticulously thought out plans went something like this:

Me: "Alex! Let's go goehashing! Can I use your printer to print out some maps?""

Alex: "Uh. Sure?"

Expedition

"So, the way Model A of this turbine engine works, is the air is going come in here, aa-as opposed to the old model where it enters here and.. c-compressed, it is going to become compressed in this cavity.. here," Alex gestured with his pencil at a rough sketch of three dissected turbine engines, drawn on the back of one of the maps we had printed off, "and so none of the air will be lost, aa-all of it will become converted for the fuel air mixture, raising the PR from about 6 in the.. old model to 8 or 9."

"Uh-huh." I said, trying to follow his sketches while simultaneously not wrecking the car.

"But, see with Model B, the compression chamber is -"

"Alex, Alex, hate to interrupt, but when am I supposed to exit?"

"Uhh.." he began, flipping the paper over. "Uhh.." he repeated, and looked up. He pointed quickly to the right.

"There!"

I cursed quickly under my breath and bullied my way into the exit lane, slipping in just in time to peel of the highway.

“Remember Alex, I’m a pilot, not a navigator!” I joked

Alex chuckled, ducking his head down as some people do when they laugh. Alex was very smart, but didn’t give off the first impression that he was. His speech sometimes got backed up, especially on the vowels or soft consonants. He was a very conservative pilot, which was why it was hard for me to get him to go ‘hashing with me. But, nevertheless, he had come, and I was glad. I think half of the reason that geohashing is so fun is the people that you go to the hash with, if any. It’s different than getting to know somebody by just sitting down and eating lunch with them. Geohashing, you get to find out so much more. You get to find out if they are headstrong, leaders, followers, decision-makers, rule breakers or Goody Two Shoes. What they can take, what they cannot. And if you drive a long ways to the ‘hash, you get a lot of time to talk too. We were driving from Killeen to Austin, Texas. We had plenty of time to talk.

Alex had just spent the last 20 or 30 minutes explaining this airplane he has been sketching for about a year. But not just sketching, he was serious about this thing. He, being a rather meticulous planner, had everything plotted out to the T, even down to the new turbine engines. I was legitimately interested, but we were getting to the part of driving that didn’t involve a straight line, so I needed him to direct me.

So he pointed, and I drove.

“So… what are we supposed to do once we get there?” asked Alex.

We were getting nearer to the hash.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it!” I said enthusiastically, turning off onto a wide neighborhood road.

We were in rich person’s territory. I gazed at the strategically planted palm trees and carefully manicured hedges, glossy cars and houses that were either unique looking or fortress-like. For some reason, I didn’t expect Austin, Texas to be hilly, mountainous, even, but here we were, winding through a rich neighborhood, all up and down.

We found the target house (the hash was in their backyard) and parked a few blocks down. I have a rather distinctive car, so I try to keep it away from the scene of the hash if it involves trespassing.

“Raaagh!” I exclaimed as I stepped out of the car

Alex wheeled around, already on edge “What? What is it?!”

“Dude. I was just stretching. Chill.” But I was laughing.

Alex and I walked down a rather steep sidewalk to the house. In retrospect, we must have looked rather out of place. Two college kids, poorly printed maps in hand, craning our heads to look at the houses like we had never seen anything like them. I had, but only once. I peeled off the sidewalk and went straight up to the front door of the house that held the hash captive in its backyard. Without hesitation, I knocked. I really didn’t know what in God’s name I was going to say, but hey. I’m in theatre. I can do improv.

“Hmmm-mm!” I hummed a Redwall ditty under my breath, trying to look as innocent and unthreatening as possible for whomever might open that door.

Where did Alex go?

I turned, certain that he had followed me to the front door.

But there was Alex, one step on the driveway and the other on the sidewalk, looking like a dog being held back by an invisible leash. He was gesturing frantically with both hands, mouthing the word No! I gestured for him to come on, come on. But he kept shaking his head and glancing nervously at the house. I could almost see the cogs turning in his brain from here.

I chuckled under my breath and knocked again.

Nobody answered, so I peeked through the door window. It was all decorative and warped, as most door windows are, but I could make out bits of the house, most importantly a television… turned on.

Who leaves the telly on when they leave the house?

I knocked again, louder, insistently.

Again, not a soul answered the door. The telly remained, annoyingly, on.

Well, nobody can say I didn’t try.

I walked back up to the sidewalk with Alex, who was obviously relieved I had abandoned the hash. He immediately began hiking to the car, saying something that I didn’t hear because I wasn’t listening. I began pacing, up and down the little stretch of sidewalk, looking at the house, my maps. The hash wasn’t really in the backyard, per se, it was more in the sideyard kind of thing.

“Ellen! What are you doing, let’s go!”

I mumbled something incoherent even to myself, as I tend to do when thinking quickly.

I looked at Alex.

“If you’re not coming, keep watch.” I said and scurried to the garage of the house before he could say “Frank Sinatra is God”

There was a high wooden fence blocking the backyard off, but a small gap between the house and fence looked like something I might be able to fit my skinny self through.

I slipped my satchel off and set it down, taking my marker (a golf ball with Black Hat drawn on it in Sharpie) out, tossing it up in the air and catching it again several times. There is something weirdly enjoyable in doing that, like getting into the bathtub when the water is just the right temperature. Though tossing objects from hand to hand is, I’ve found, most satisfying with an apple.

Anyway, I managed to slip through the gap, but didn’t have to go very far, the hash being pretty much on the other side of the fence. The house had huge, wall-size back windows, and if it weren’t for the glare of the sun, I would have been able to see right in. However, occupants watching television inside would have no problem seeing me.

I set my marker down quickly, noting how enticing their swimming pool looked as I sweated away, and then wormed my way back through the gap. Walking briskly away, I swooped and picked up my satchel in the same motion, feeling pretty epic I didn’t trip doing that. I met Alex back at the safe zone, the sidewalk, resisting the urge to yell “Aaaand she’s safe!” really loudly. Instead I did my Happy Dance, then let Alex lead me back to the car.

We climbed in and started the engine. I started laughing.

“You were scared, you were so scared, Alex!” I giggled

Alex chuckled, glancing back at the house

“Yyyeah, I was!”

I smacked my lips.

“I’m feeling some Sonic right now. Show me the way, Mr. Navigator!”

“Sonic, coming right up!” nodded Alex, typing into his phone

“Hey, Alex?”

“What?”

“Thanks for coming.”

Photos

I did not take any pictures as I 1) wasn't originally planning to document this expedition online and 2) do not have a camera (yes, I have a phone but it belongs in the 19th century and I don't even know how to get pictures off of it anyway.) Sorry, everybody! Just use your Imagination...