I’ve made the trip to Austin for Donald Trump’s rally, the closest to the election a major candidate has stopped in Texas in quite some time.

Trump’s visit would come with some issues, such as the head of Austin’s Republican Party [Republican] staging a protest outside the arena. He says Trump’s nomination could hurt other Republicans down the ballot.

He would make this point wearing, obviously, a court jester’s hat.

Robert Morrow told me many politicians should wear a jester’s hat, explaining that many of them are frauds.

“Actually, they shouldn’t have to wear it,” he continued matter-of-factly. “It’s more like truth in advertising.”

Austin police would approach him and escort him to the protest area. After this discussion, I would chat with one of the television photographers about the serious nature of the conversation the party chair was having with he officer.

“What’s the proper way to address a court jester?” I asked the photographer. “My liege?”

“I don’t know,” the photographer answered. “The jester doesn’t get respect. Isn’t ‘my liege’ a term of respect?'”

He was right to ask.

I’d make my way into the arena, where a group was seated in front of the flags. Just before Trump came out, organizers of the rally brought out giant letters for the group to hold.

I started taking pictures to tweet, but I had to wait for the guy at the end to hold the letter, “T” as visibly as they others.

“Come on,” I murmured. “I can’t tweet a picture of the word, ‘Rump,” especially not in front of the American flag!”

In downtown Austin, a different group of protesters had gathered outside the building that hosted Trump’s fundraiser. One group had urged people to dress like clowns.

I found myself worrying that I’d walk into a situation where a bunch of evil clowns were marching through the street with a police escort as part of some sort of Stephen King novel.

When I arrived, though, I found just a few people wearing clown make-up and sidled up to a guy with a big piece of cardboard with a website written on it.

“Oh, I’m not here to protest,” he said. “I just work across the street and thought I could get some free advertising for my website if I showed up with a sign.”

In the spirit of advertising, I would also wander into a 7-Eleven after he rally looking for something to drink.

After spending time in Philadelphia where I was exposed to, like, blackberry ginger ale, I figured, “Anything goes in Austin!” And tried the revamped Crystal Pepsi.

Here’s the thing, though: I’m still not a fan.

After googling Crystal Pepsi, I also see that Coca Cola is getting into the game.

I imagine someone on the board of directors at Coca Cola seeing Crystal Pepsi at a store and calling a meeting.

“Hey, Pepsi is bringing back a soda no one liked. We can’t fall behind the curve! We gotta do something!”

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to enjoy a Squeezit before I head back to Ft. Worth.