I moved to Austin in 1997, but I didn’t feel as though I’d truly arrived here until nearly nine months later, when I first saw Matthew McConaughey ambling alone down Sixth Street one late and beery night. This was long after he’d broken through in films like Dazed and Confused and Contact, but before he’d truly sidled into the A-list with a string of tepid romantic comedies. It was also pre-cellphones, before anyone had ever heard the word “selfie.” McConaughey was thus unencumbered, radiating self-possessed serenity (and pot smoke) as he strolled along the sidewalk, giggling to himself whenever drunk strangers shouted “alright, alright, alright” at him and flashing the occasional hook ’em Horns. My friends and I must have trailed him for a block…
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