East Austin Post Office

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. A delivery driver arrived early one morning, only to discover that someone had left a giant cardboard cutout of a mailbox right in front of the entrance. Nobody seemed to notice or mind as they went about their business. As the day wore on, more and more mailboxes appeared—some real, some fake—until it looked like a miniature village outside the post office. A regular stopped by and asked if everything was okay, to which an employee replied, 'Just another Monday at East Austin Post Office.' By afternoon, the delivery driver found his own mailbox among them, complete with a handwritten note reading, ‘Welcome home!’

2. A regular customer entered the East Austin Post Office one afternoon and announced loudly, 'I just mailed my letter to Santa Claus!' The clerk smiled politely but raised an eyebrow as she replied, 'Sir, it's November—maybe you should wait until December?' Just then, a delivery driver walked in, wearing a Santa hat. He overheard the conversation and chimed in, ‘Hey, I deliver packages year-round! Maybe he’s mailing something special?’ Everyone laughed, realizing that sometimes our traditions are best when they’re not strictly followed.

3. In the quiet corner of East Austin Post Office, a delivery driver noticed something unusual one day. Amongst the usual envelopes and packages on the counter lay an old, dusty guitar case. Curious, he opened it carefully, revealing an ancient instrument with faded stickers. Turns out, it belonged to a regular who’d forgotten it weeks ago. Now, every time someone mentions that guitar, everyone in town knows: if you leave your stuff at the post office, they’ll keep it safe—even if it’s a vintage axe!

4. In the quiet corner of East Austin Post Office, a delivery driver noticed something peculiar. Every Wednesday at exactly three o’clock, the mailboxes began to hum softly, as if they were having their own secret conversation. Curious, he approached and saw nothing unusual—just ordinary mailboxes. But then, out of nowhere, an elderly neighbor popped his head around the corner and whispered, ‘That’s when the little blue mailbox talks to the red one.’ The delivery driver laughed it off until Wednesday rolled around again, and sure enough—they heard it too. From that day on, every Wednesday at precisely three, the East Austin Post Office became the place where everyone gathered to listen to the mysterious mailbox chatter—and nobody ever missed it.