25 More Ways to Know You've Spent Too Much Time In Montrose

Rocks Off loves Houston's adorably scruffy, formerly sketchy hipster 'hood long ago known as "Neartown," but sometimes you have to go beyond Allen Parkway or 59. We asked a few of our writers exactly when they know that last week, and they hit 25 and went right on going.

You have a favorite pothole.

Last week, you received a tattoo and a psychic palm reading simultaneously.

You despise all of the new townhomes sprouting up on your street except your own.

REWIND: 25 Ways to Know You Spend Too Much Time in Montrose

You think the "Washington Corridor" is some secret passage from National Treasure 2.

You remember La Strada before it burned down.

You went to Mary's.

You know who the Mayor of Montrose, the Wizard of Montrose, the Numbers Parking Lot Bullwhip Guy and the Montrose Rollerbalder are.

You know exactly where to park around Poison Girl to avoid being towed.

You've waited in the Jack in the Box line for over a half-hour at 2 a.m. because Whataburger is too far.

Both your cigarettes and your dietary staples are purchased by the carton.

You call it the 'Trose, the Gayborhood or Mantrose.

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Anything outside of the radius marked by Allen Parkway to the north, 59 to the south, Shepherd on the west and Taft on the east is easily and swiftly disregarded as "the suburbs."

The media has dubbed your vinyl collection "too big to fail."

You know when Montrose ends and Midtown/Freedman's Town/Hyde Park begin.

You've eaten at the Tacos Tierra Caliente trailer every day for a week at least twice.

You go to the Menil for a quiet read in the park and it ends up turning into a drunken picnic with ten of your friends. At 2 p.m. on a Thursday.

You've wasted more of your prime years in dives than Greg Louganis.

You park at Lola's and no one even bothers to try to sell you coke.

You've been at Lowbrow every day since it opened.

You went to the Street Festival.

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You remember when Lola's refused to take credit cards.

You know every panhandler on Westheimer between AvantGarden and Kirby by their first names.

You've had more than one 3 a.m. dance party at Pak's.

The bartenders at Poison Girl actually seem to really care about what you want to drink.

You never leave home for a walk without a pocketknife.


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