Austin's a fucking meh-ess this morning: the asphalt's all sticky with spilled Shiner Bock; Red Bull cans are stubbed out like butts all over the place; and the gutters are alive with the sound of psyched grackles pecking up dew-damp pizza crusts. One thing that's not all over the streets: people. For a few scant hours each morning, South-by makes a ghost town out of Austin--albeit one with plenty of trash cans. It's a little stretch of calm between big boozy storm systems--and last night's was a doozy.