A Conference, a Wrong Turn, and Perfect Fried Chicken
I was in Austin for a conference, so I was already tired when I arrived. Conferences do that. Windowless rooms, informative sessions, lots of standing, and while that is amazing, I was exhausted. By the end of the day, I wasn’t looking for meaning. I was looking for food. Something close to the hotel. Something reliable. Something that would not ask me to think any harder than I already had. I did not set out to find Gus’s . I found it the way you find the things that matter more than expected, by accident, while trying to solve a smaller problem. The room didn’t pull me in. It didn’t glow with intention. It didn’t signal importance. Red brick walls , worn, not styled. Checkered tables that had done this job for a long time. Chairs that did not match because no one cared if they did. Neon signs that looked like they were inherited, not commissioned. Memphis everywhere, quietly, stubbornly, unconcerned with where it had landed. I sat because it was there. That matters. In a city that...