The Where I Live series aims to showcase our diverse city and region by spotlighting its many vibrant neighborhoods. Each week a local resident invites us over and lets us in on what makes their neighborhood special. Have we been to your neighborhood yet? Get in touch to share your story.
I’ll put this nicely: the St. Mary’s Strip is a bit of a dump.
Between the lingering smells of garbage, the almost purgatorial level of construction expansions, and even the attractive — but often destructive — weekend debauchery it’s known for, the Strip feels like a pilot episode for “San Antonio’s Most Messy.” (For any newcomers, that’s not a real thing. But maybe it should be.)
In fact, I’ll let you in on a secret. I left life on the Far West Side of San Antonio to live on North St. Mary’s for one reason and one reason only: Katii.
That’s right. I moved 30-ish minutes across town so that on a Saturday night I could walk four blocks to the best Thai food spot in San Antonio, only to stumble my way back home at half-past two. Hey, if you’ve ever tried Katii then you understand the dedication.
Sure, there’s clear justification as to why you could say the Strip sucks. But if you only come here to party, then you don’t get to say that.
When you’ve sat in Tobin Hill area meetings listening to your frustrated neighbors complain about drunk kids vandalizing their yards at 3 a.m. (and worse), then you can say it sucks. When you’ve woken up in the middle of the night hearing well-placed rounds go off in the alley behind your apartment for the third time that month, then you can say it sucks. When you’ve had your restaurant storefront caved in by a drunk driver mere minutes after everyone packed up and left for the night, then you can say it sucks. When you’ve stepped in a mix of unknown fluids that looks like it could’ve been there for two weeks or two minutes… you get where I’m going with this.
The funny part is, even with all the Strip’s grimy layers, you just won’t hear us say it sucks. The truth? I absolutely love living here. It breaks my heart to think that one of these days I’ll look up and realize I can no longer walk three minutes to Little Death for wine with the homies. Or to the Pearl for a Sunday farmer’s market where I probably won’t buy anything. Or that I can’t pop into Cynthia’s DJ set at Rumble for “just five minutes” because I desperately need a slice of Righteous Pie’s vegan pizza. Or that I can’t head a little further down to Jandro’s on a Wednesday to hear some good ol’ anti-government spoken word. Or, of course, make my way over to Katii’s food truck at El Buho for some relocation-worthy Thai food.
I’m sort of glad it hurts to think about what it would be like not to live here. “You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone” comes to mind, and I guess I already do know what I’ve got. In the past, I’ve made that mistake enough times to learn that, when you live somewhere like the Strip, you let go and let it grow on you.
Mexico, Tennessee, Delaware, New York… all places my young mind thought would always be there. Places I regrettably took for granted. When I moved to St. Mary’s, I remember telling myself, “This neighborhood is special. Enjoy it. Don’t make that same mistake again.” Almost four years later, I’m glad I listened to my own advice.
Living here has taught me about building a trusting relationship with the places you live. In times of laughter, and in the inevitably tearful moments, the St. Mary’s Strip has had my back. Like an uncle who doesn’t shower but who will be there faster than anyone when your car breaks down.
The relationship you have with your surroundings will protect your memories, too. Like the unforgettable moments spent with your new partner during lockdown, and the pure joy on her face as snow miraculously fills the street around her.
Strangely, St. Mary’s Strip has given me more than anywhere I’ve ever lived. From being kidnapped by my neighbors for backyard karaoke parties, to helping tipsy strangers catch their morning flights, the stories and adventures never seem to end.
You also realize things while living here. Like the fact that no one can agree on precisely where the Strip begins or ends, mostly because no one really cares. Or knowing that Rumble is the unspoken HQ of the Strip but wondering why you know that. Or realizing that you actually prefer hanging out with people who would rather kick it at our sister Strip on North Main. It’s that moment you fully grasp you have high-quality coffee, vegan pizza, Thai food, burgers, pancakes, tacos, and Greek food all within five minutes walking distance.
And on top of all of that, realizing you have a front-row seat to how quickly the culture of San Antonio is evolving.
The phrase “it is what it is” perfectly captures what it feels like to live off St. Mary’s Strip. It’s not pretty, but it’ll stick beside you. I might have come strictly for the Thai food, but I stayed because of how connected to San Antonio this street makes me feel. The St. Mary’s Strip has helped me appreciate San Antonio in a way I didn’t realize was possible.
Hindsight bias is rough. I know I won’t truly understand how much I adore living here until it’s time for me to go. But I am doing my best to understand before that happens. All I know is that I’m prepared for it to be one of the saddest days I’ve ever had in this city.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
