Just what is a Tramp Texan, anyway?

A Tramp Texan (copyright, me, as of right now (June 18th, 2004), so don't you go stealing it without asking) is a world-traveling Texan. Which, in Texas, means you've left the official seven-state Texan Traveling Area (TTA) more than twice (that’s Texas, Louisiana, Arkansas, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Colorado, and Mexico (yes, I know it’s a country but travel back and forth is frequent enough so we’ll call it a state for fun)). I say twice because every Texan gets the urge to visit an uncle in Ohio sometimes, or go on a convention trip to New York City. But traveling outside of the TTA is something that most Texans never do. Many Texans rarely, if ever, leave Texas. Most Texans never visit a foreign country other than Mexico. Don’t look down on us, as travelers: we consider two-hour commutes doable and think nothing of driving an hour to the nearest grocery store. Most of us simply do, well, internal traveling. Texas is like a whole other country, you know? Even to those of us from here.

The third time out of Texas is really the killer; it means you’ve gotten a taste for traveling. My third time was my trip to Costa Rica in graduate school; forever more when I talk about Costa Rica, Texans inevitably turn to me and say, “Wow, you’ve traveled, haven’tcha?” This is okay by me; I am proud of being a Tramp Texan. I may be from Here, but I’ve been There.

Tramp Texans are legion. You go around the world, and Texans are everywhere. We include army soldiers, truckers, oil-industry workers, cowboys, and free-traveling souls. We make for nostalgic expatriates, and we form Texas clubs everywhere we go. How many states do you know of that have state-nostalgia clubs in London? Tramp Texans are often responsible for terribly-themed expat bars where they serve strange margaritas and funny-tasting barbeque. I believe there is a Tramp Texan bar in every oil-producing or –refining country in the world. We inhabit out-of-the-way locales too; more so, I bet, than any other state. We have cattlemen working in Venezuela, foresters working in Nicaragua, and stock traders in Singapore. Texas is such a diverse state, and oil and cattle such important business concerns world-wide, that we are capable of infiltrating almost every society on earth (though we may let other states infiltrate Norway—it’s cold there. But don’t they have oil?).

Texans are uniquely qualified to be tramps: we are friendly, we are used to foreign cultures, we LOVE to talk, and we do well in societies where talking and alcohol are main activities. It’s funny: many Tramp Texans are unhappy they ever left Texas, and many love Texas but would never go back. For every two drunk oil riggers in an expat bar telling you about the glories of Killeen women, there’s an old cowboy who explains to you in a vintage drawl that he hasn’t left the island in 20 years and wouldn’t leave for nothing. We can assimilate.

I left Texas many times, and for years at a time. I have always returned home to visit, but I know for true now that I will never live here. I have become a Tramp Texan, a drawling flotsam/jetsam on the currents of the world. I hope I end up somewhere nice. But I know, wherever I do end up, that I am joining the local Texas club.