Austin's 78701: Where Culture Goes to Die (But the Moving Truels Are Always on Time)

Oh, joy. Another report has confirmed what we’ve all been dreading: the invasion of 78701 is in full swing. According to the brainiacs at MovingPlace, our beloved downtown Austin ZIP code is now the seventh most-moved-to in the entire country. That’s right, folks—10.3 new residents per 1,000 of us locals, which, if my math is right, means I’ll soon be outnumbered by people who think “weird” is a brand of kombucha and not a way of life.

Urban livability, they say. Access to jobs, they chirp. What they don’t mention is that “urban livability” now means paying $700,500 for a shoebox-sized condo with a view of another shoebox-sized condo, and “access to jobs” translates to serving oat milk lattes to tech bros who’ve never heard of Black Flag but can code an app to optimize their avocado toast consumption. The median household income here is $154,867, which is just fancy talk for “we’ve priced out anyone who doesn’t work for a company that rhymes with Schmapple.”

And let’s not forget the nightlife! Sure, we’ve got entertainment venues—if you consider watching a cover band murder a Willie Nelson song while charging $15 for a lukewarm beer “entertainment.” Meanwhile, the actual punk houses that birthed this city’s soul are getting eviction notices faster than you can say “gentrification.” But hey, at least the new arrivals can enjoy their high concentration of tech jobs before they’re automated away by the very algorithms they’re building.

Texas dominated the list, with Crandall and Dallas also making the cut. Because nothing says “hottest ZIP code” like a suburb where the most exciting thing is a new Target opening. U-Haul crowned Texas the number one place to move, which tracks—nothing says “fresh start” like packing your life into a truck and driving toward a future where your identity is reduced to data points in a relocation report.

So welcome, newcomers! Enjoy the sanitized version of Austin we’ve built for you. Just try not to trip over the rubble of what used to be a thriving culture while you’re hunting for your next brunch spot. We’ll be over here, plotting the next benefit show to save the last standing punk house from becoming another co-working space.