Commentary: Keep Austin weird; I'll take Fort Worth

"Have you ever thought about moving to Austin?"

In the 10 years since I arrived in Fort Worth, I have been asked this question dozens of times, by friends and acquaintances; by those intimately familiar with our capital city and those who only know it by reputation. Once people learn a little bit about me -- that I'm from New York, and attended college in New England, and tend to vote Democrat -- they assume I took a misguided turn when I came to Texas in 2000 and ended up in the wrong city entirely.

Surely that hippie-liberal enclave of organic food and weird movies and poetry readings at independent bookstores is the place where I belong, right?

Usually, I shrug at the suggestion and quietly say, "Nah, I like Fort Worth." If I'm feeling particularly feisty, I'll explain a little more: Namely, that I have never wanted to live in Austin and never would. I simply don't like it there.

And while such an answer is usually greeted with a look of pure horror, as if I've just blasphemed the pope, Allah and Moses in one fell swoop, I'll stand by my determination to my dying day: Fort Worth is infinitely cooler than the overrated, overhyped, overcrowded Austin.

All of this came rushing back to me Sunday, as I was walking to my car to leave Austin after a weekend at the South by Southwest Film Festival. The weekend was a bit of a drag, but my frustration with the town goes much deeper. Indeed, I remember in fall of 2000, the day before my first visit to Austin, as assorted colleagues and friends assured me that I was going to have an amazing time: Such delicious food! Such interesting people! Such eclectic live music!

When I drove that first time into downtown I wondered if I was being punk'd. The downtown landscape? Um, it's the grubbiest, ugliest downtown of all of Texas' major cities. The food? Sure, fine -- but I've had much better Tex-Mex and barbecue in Dallas-Fort Worth. The live music? Eh, not my thing (and if it means spending any time on the cluttered and smelly Sixth Street -- it's definitely not my thing).

As for these supposedly amazing people, well, they sure are proud of Austin. I sometimes think the city's denizens flaunt their address the way nouveau riche housewives flaunt Gucci bags: They want everyone to know how much more sophisticated they are than the rest of us.

In the past decade, I've visited Austin probably three dozen times, for work and fun. For a brief while, I even dated someone who lived there. I've eaten at some tasty out-of-the-way restaurants. I've met people who I think are smart, witty and creative. I discovered the awesomeness that is the Lyndon B. Johnson Presidential Library.

But what I've never discovered is why on earth so many people who live in Austin -- and who proclaim it as the greatest city in the world -- are so self-regarding. Wandering around the jampacked downtown streets last weekend, I once again felt like I was being punk'd. Maybe some people do genuinely value being able to live in a city where you can see a 60-year-old drag queen wandering up San Jacinto wearing a G-string (no joke, Saturday afternoon, circa 4 p.m. -- his freckled, flabby butt cheeks will haunt my nightmares for decades to come).

Me, I value a place where the traffic isn't deadly; where the arts scene is febrile and ever-evolving; and where you can fly direct to Europe without first stopping at D/FW.

And mostly I value a place where people don't feel so insecure that they need to wear their civic pride so desperately on their sleeves. If I had to define the difference between Austin and Fort Worth, it has nothing to do with liberal versus conservative; or hipster art-house movie theaters versus old money art museums.

It's that Austinites try so hard to be cool while most people in Fort Worth couldn't care less what you think of them.

And that most of us in Fort Worth have little interest in proselytizing or campaigning for our city: We know full well how terrific it is to live here, and we don't need any validation.

Thanks for having me, Cowtown. And thanks, Austinites, for having your heads so far up your butts that you'll never really see that there's a truly livable urban gem just three hours north on I-35.