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Slabfest


Whom ever said it was a good idea to attend an outdoor event, 5pm on a Houston Summer day must’ve been crazy. Yet, here we all were; a collective of proud southern folk; some born and raised walking distance from the now Iconic ‘Screwed Up Records & Tapes’ shop, others passing through to get a dose of the distinct culture.

There’s not enough to be said about the feeling one gets, crossing back in to a territory you knew well as a kid, and have since evolved from. Coming home to Houston always provides a real sense of calm and peace. The air is sweet, the lanes are wide and welcoming, the food offers comfort and strangers greet you with a friendly twang everywhere you go. For me, there’s something special about riding through the southside. Making my way down S. Post Oak and turning that left on W. Orem. The grin creeps across my face, the swell I feel in my heart as it fills with nostalgia. My youth. So many summertime memories, so many wild stories. So much of who I am was established on days exactly like this one, 10+ years ago. The spirit of my hoodrat adolescence lingers here. These were my stomping grounds.

As I crawl down Fuqua, I could feel the streets slowing with traffic. Blocks and blocks of cars all en route to same place. By the time you passed Hiram Clarke Rd. the cars had already started to pull on the the medians to park. Tailgaters blasted classic DJ Screw records from their trunks, kids on bikes mobbed the sidewalks in packs, and a couple a folks on horses trotted around socializing.

The 101 degree heat couldn’t keep us from pulling up to see the show. I couldn’t be more proud of where I’m from, that was something you could feel clearly in the air that day.

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