It’s late afternoon at Javelina and I’m starting to sweat.  The unpredictable Austin weather is up to its old tricks, and I’m drowning in layers.  I just finished my beer and am about to go do some more aimless wandering, following the sounds of good music or loud cheers, when the guy next to me at the bar strikes up conversation.  He’s from California, a pediatrician, an obvious Austin enthusiast, and had a friend who knows a guy that knows the girl who’s about to play next.  She’s supposed to be really good, he says.  That line gets me every time.