Another Weekend in Nashville...Parades, Dancing, and a Quiet Six Pack of Bush Light

In the past week I've crisscrossed the Eastern half of the U.S., starting in Richmond and ending up in Music City, where I decided to spend another weekend in another dumpy motel in the margins of town. The Knights Inn on Spring Avenue and N. 1st Street is not a place for enjoying Nashville. While there is some charm in rude front desk attendants and bed covers sprinkled with dog hair, the real enjoyment seems to come from a pack of Marlboro Reds and a six-pack of Bush Light.

The opened door leading to darkness was my room...

Friday night I put on my best shirt and called the cab driver I met earlier, Bobby, who said as he first dropped me off at the motel, "Day or night, you call and ten minutes later I'm here for you Mike." On the phone, Bobby explained in his thick Ethiopian accent that the police were everywhere and he didn't know what was going on but it would probably be two hours until he could come pick me up. I told him it was okay and I'd find another way to get Downtown. "I'm sorry Mike," he replied. The dispacher at Allied Cabs had a guy in my area, and in ten minutes we were headed to Tootsie's, joking about all the security being for Barack Obama. Eight blocks from Downtown, traffic on the sidewalk was moving faster than on the street so I had my driver drop me off.

A parade marched down Broadway Avenue to 2nd Street! That explained all the blocked off streets and pedestrians, strollers and collapseable chairs in tow. Below are images from the parade, that stretched back for what seemed like miles:


It was damned cold outside and I don't know how the participants marching down the street could stand it, let alone the onlookers on the sidewalk. I enjoyed about 15 minutes of the floats, baton twirlers and marching bands before I headed into The Stage to watch a group that sounded very much like Kenny Chesney charm the Wrangler cladded, cowboy hat wearing music lovers into a very Western heel-toe type of dance. It was nothing new and I decided to go back to my industrial palace to read a bit and go to bed.

I had a fine time in Nashville, but the novelty of the road has worn down to an old hat routine and I find more fun being alone in my room with a good book and some Gerry Mulligan than trying to find something new and different in a new and different town. I'm starting to feel like those moments are reserved for the energy of a familiar group of pals that you can get in some loud trouble with when you have the confidence to ask a cowgirl to dance. There's something about a being alone that cuts the fun factor in half...but that doesn't necessarly make the moment less worthy, as I found out in the morning when I didn't have a headache!

Now I'm stuck in the Washington-Dulles airport having missed my connection due to what the gate agent said was "a strong Westerly wind." It's been two hours since we landed and it'll be two hours until I depart, but I have a cup of coffee, two books, and the Sunday NY Times next to me, these things having become best friends for a Nickel-Plated Wayfarer like me. Tomorrow I think I'll do some laundry as the machine at the Knights Inn was out of order.