If that doesn't sum up an awesome weekend in San Antonio (despite packing the wrong shoes for a "bus" tour and spraining an ankle), I don't know what does.
Predictably, I don't have pictures. We don't have a digital camera, and anyone who's seen my pre-digital efforts at photography knows I know better than to walk within fifty feet of an analog camera with picture-snapping on my mind. Cameras, plants and biscuits: Things Baconsmom Doesn't Do.
I managed to learn almost everyone's name on this trip, so now I don't have to tell stories about Tall Guy Who Sits Behind Me (Josh) and That Soprano With The Awesome Shoes (Maddie) and Guy Who I Meet At The Bathroom (Robert). I had some excellent margaritas, so-so food (I really prefer Sonoran Mexican, for all my bitching about its heat), and encountered more genuinely friendly people than I ever thought possible. I'm thinking of going back with the husband and the Baconator in the fall, when it's cooler, because I had so much fun in just 24 hours.
And no, there is no basement at the Alamo.