Big Girl on Adventure- Nashville

Last night D. called and we caught up on months and months of news. For her, a new life, a new city, and the expection of success, becoming who she was once again. She said 'It's like dusting off that old person, the one you have always wanted to be, and possibly were for a while and saying "Hey, I know you." It feels good."

Yes it does, sister.

She was asking if I was journalling all my travels and new experiences, as D. loves to read what I write. She thinks I am a great writer, I think I am an okay writer who happens to be funny. But this is an homage at her request.

The first trip I took this year for my job was Nashville. For two weeks I learned everything I could about the city. "The Athens of the South" the first de-segregated school system in TN, the heart of country music. I am a huge country music fan, from the days of dancing with Grampa in his bar, two stepping our way across the dance floor to the sounds of Patsy, Johnny and the like. It always brings me back to a quieter time. Also, Garth Brooks, what a cutie. My first real crush as a teenager.

Nashville was beautiful and sad at the same time. The locals tried to show me the "upscale" Nashville, nice restaurants, great neighborhoods. Here's the problem, I live in NYC, I know great food, I know classy joints, and I wanted to see nashville, country line dancing, cowboys that are trying to get a record deal, and $1.00 beers. I didn't want to be a local, I wanted to be a tourist, hear some music, by an unknown, wear a cowboy hat, put on too much makeup and laugh out loud. I went out one night late to Rippy's, a famous BBQ and music joint, and sat in the back, eating my sandwich, smoking Parliments, and watching the men.

The men. Big guys, big smiles, men who can twirl you around on a dance floor as easy as anything with no pretense of anything but a dance. I sat, and of course met the few gay men in town, who happened to buy me a beer, swing me around on the dance floor, and smoke some of my cigarettes. Even in Nashville, the fags can seek me out.

On my last night there, I had invited MT's old friend to meet me for shopping and dinner. It happened to also be in the midst of a severe storm. She showed up at the hotel, we smoked cigarette after cigarette listening to the news about the tornado that was coming. The loudspeaker came on, warning everyone to step away from the windows and go into an interior hallway or bathtub until the tornado passed. I sat on the bed, curtains flung open, waiting to see the funnel cloud that never appeared. The hail was golf ball sized, but still no funnel cloud. The tornado hit East Nashville, less than a mile away, destroying homes and businesses, but again, I saw no funnel cloud. I hope I never have to either. We went to dinner, talked about MT, and the end of our relationship, and I said goodbye... to a whole life that I never would know. No funnel clouds, no strange and interesting people connected to MT.

A month later, I went back for the conference. It really was an amazing time-- and well recieved. On one night, after cocktails, the whole bus wanted to go wherever I was taking them, and I took them to Rippy's. No dancing that night, however, great food, lots of laughter, and good times. I found out that later part of the contigency that had gone out drinking, ended up on the ground floor of the hotel finishing off their little bottles of Jack, barely making it to the workshop the next day. Most others just reeked of the alcohol that had downed in copious amounts the night before.

Nashville, I'd go back. I wouldn't live there, but I would sit for a spell.