opinion
City of Austin Discovers Homeless People Exist (But Only When It’s Cold)
Austin’s unhoused population gets its annual 12-hour reprieve from freezing to death, courtesy of a shelter system that treats survival like a scavenger hunt.

Published December 30, 2025 at 6:33pm

Ah, yes—another winter in Austin, where the city government suddenly remembers that homeless people exist, but only when the temperature drops low enough to make their suffering photogenic. The annual ritual of scrambling to open cold weather shelters has begun, complete with the usual bureaucratic hurdles designed to ensure that only the most determined (or frostbitten) souls make it inside.
First, you must navigate the labyrinthine registration process at the One Texas Center, conveniently located in a part of town where the bus routes are as reliable as a politician’s promise. Don’t worry if you can’t afford the fare—CapMetro graciously offers a charitable free ride, because nothing says 'compassion' like conditional transportation.
Once you’ve jumped through the hoops, you’ll be whisked away to a top-secret shelter location—because God forbid the public knows where the city stashes its unhoused residents. Is it a converted warehouse? A decommissioned missile silo? A pop-up glamping site for the temporarily inconvenienced? The world may never know.
And let’s not forget the pet policy: your furry friend is welcome, as long as they’re not too furry, too friendly, or too alive. Aggression is a no-go, but let’s be real—if you’ve been sleeping on concrete for months, you’re probably more docile than a sedated golden retriever.
Meals are provided, because nothing warms the soul like lukewarm mystery meat and a side of existential dread. And if you’re a woman or part of a couple, rejoice! You might get to share a space with your loved ones—just in separate corners, because heaven forbid unhoused people experience basic human connection.
So bundle up, Austin’s forgotten citizens! The city’s cold-weather compassion is as fleeting as the frost on your tent. But hey, at least they remembered you exist… for one night.
