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How in the hell have I already put a week in between me and my Nashville experience? Is that even possible? I guess it is. Lately, I'm just not feeling equipped to handle the pace of my life.
Kind of funny how that feeling persists, especially considering the fact that my Tennessee getaway was meant to help alleviate it. I thought that disconnecting from my normal world for a day and a half and focusing on nothing but exploring a new environment and enjoying music would allow me to come home relaxed and ready to put myself and my personal needs above the constraints imposed by the rat race. And I was right, for about a day. But once I got back to work Tuesday, I reverted right back into harried Jenny mode, feeling overworked and unfulfilled, wondering if the day-to-day bullshit would ever relent long enough to let me concentrate on what's really important -- that being me getting to realize my potential as a creative writer.
Enough talk of that though. I didn't start this post with the intention of complaining about how depressing it was to return to reality after being away. I started it hoping to chronicle that brief period from last Friday morning to last Saturday evening when I let wanderlust take over, when I felt spontaneous and carefree and oh so alive.
Before I start though, I wanna offer a brief bit of context. You see this trip had been in the works for over a month, but it wasn't until two weeks ago that Nashville became my destination of choice. Initially I was due to visit my friend Shane, who lives in central Louisiana. The plan was for me to fly into the city nearest him, which was Jackson, MS (and yes, I'd be singing the Johnny Cash/June Carter tune the whole way there), rent a car and drive out to meet him so we could get food and hang out for the day. Unfortunately, Shane's work schedule is kind of insane right now, and though I was sad to have to postpone, I figured I'd try again when the timing worked out a little better. However, that still left me with an airline ticket that needed to be used before February 26, and I'd already arranged for the time away from work. At first I was going to fly into Jackson anyway and just relax in a hotel there (you have to understand how badly I wanted the excuse to apply the lyric, "I'm goin' to Jackson" to my life). But just for the hell of it I started looking at cities with airfare as much as or less than it cost to go to Jackson, namely cities I'd never been that were easy to navigate on foot. Nashville was one of these, and as I continued my research, I learned that Hillbilly Casino, my great musical discovery at Summerfest 2009, was set to play a gig at a bar in downtown Nashville on the day I was due to fly in. It was a really late show, which meant I could arrive in Nashville in the morning and relax all day in my hotel, get dinner and walk around and go see some live music, and fly back the following afternoon none the worse for wear. With that in mind I scrambled to get my flight switched and made a reservation at the Nashville Doubletree. I haven't cut it so close with travel plans since my impromptu Labor Day weekend in San Francisco several years back, but all the changes cost me nothing and were relatively painless to arrange. With less than a week to spare, I used Yelp to research stuff to do and places to eat, and counted down the days to departure with anticipation.
Finally, Friday morning arrived, though not without a total lack of sleep. I was up by about 4:30 to finish packing and await the arrival of my friend Rob (he insisted on giving me a ride to the airport, even though I needed to be dropped at Midway by 6 a.m.). It was still dark when I reached my terminal, and I watched the sun rise over the runway while eating a hot pretzel.
My flight went off without a hitch, and I napped on and off through most of it. I made my way to baggage claim slowly, wanting to scout places to kill time when I was waiting for my return flight the next day, and thanks to my leisurely pace my suitcase was waiting on the carousel when I arrived. From there I made my way to the Grayline shuttle counter (my research informed me that they provided round-trip transport for only 20 bucks) and bought a ticket to my hotel and back. I knew I had arrived in the South when the ticket agent radioed the shuttle driver and informed him that he was to wait for my appearance. He said, "A young lady needs a ride to the Doubletree. She'll be comin' your way shortly."
It's been a long time since I've visited Tennessee, so of course being called a 'young lady' was incredibly charming, and a bit of a novelty. I thanked the ticket agent, grabbed a complimentary street map/visitor guide, and headed out to the parking lot. I found my driver within minutes, and when I approached his van he said, "Let me guess, you need a ride to the Doubletree." He said it with a devilish grin and a glint in his eye.
"That's right!" I said. And he took my suitcase and I hopped in the shuttle and off we went.
It was just me and one other woman who needed a ride, and so the driver chatted with us amiably the whole way. At one point, when we were on the highway, I looked out the window and saw a billboard promoting a Hank Williams exhibit at the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum. It quoted a line from one of his songs that says, "A country boy will survive," and immediately I thought of Jamie Noble when he was in ROH, because that was what he used as his entrance theme.
I marveled, as I have so many times in life, at how I'm able to find wrestling references no matter where I'm at or what I'm doing. And I wondered if I'd find more as my trip went on.......
That seems like a good place to leave off. I'll be back later with actual travel reportage. Hope this piques your interest for the time being! ;)
Kind of funny how that feeling persists, especially considering the fact that my Tennessee getaway was meant to help alleviate it. I thought that disconnecting from my normal world for a day and a half and focusing on nothing but exploring a new environment and enjoying music would allow me to come home relaxed and ready to put myself and my personal needs above the constraints imposed by the rat race. And I was right, for about a day. But once I got back to work Tuesday, I reverted right back into harried Jenny mode, feeling overworked and unfulfilled, wondering if the day-to-day bullshit would ever relent long enough to let me concentrate on what's really important -- that being me getting to realize my potential as a creative writer.
Enough talk of that though. I didn't start this post with the intention of complaining about how depressing it was to return to reality after being away. I started it hoping to chronicle that brief period from last Friday morning to last Saturday evening when I let wanderlust take over, when I felt spontaneous and carefree and oh so alive.
Before I start though, I wanna offer a brief bit of context. You see this trip had been in the works for over a month, but it wasn't until two weeks ago that Nashville became my destination of choice. Initially I was due to visit my friend Shane, who lives in central Louisiana. The plan was for me to fly into the city nearest him, which was Jackson, MS (and yes, I'd be singing the Johnny Cash/June Carter tune the whole way there), rent a car and drive out to meet him so we could get food and hang out for the day. Unfortunately, Shane's work schedule is kind of insane right now, and though I was sad to have to postpone, I figured I'd try again when the timing worked out a little better. However, that still left me with an airline ticket that needed to be used before February 26, and I'd already arranged for the time away from work. At first I was going to fly into Jackson anyway and just relax in a hotel there (you have to understand how badly I wanted the excuse to apply the lyric, "I'm goin' to Jackson" to my life). But just for the hell of it I started looking at cities with airfare as much as or less than it cost to go to Jackson, namely cities I'd never been that were easy to navigate on foot. Nashville was one of these, and as I continued my research, I learned that Hillbilly Casino, my great musical discovery at Summerfest 2009, was set to play a gig at a bar in downtown Nashville on the day I was due to fly in. It was a really late show, which meant I could arrive in Nashville in the morning and relax all day in my hotel, get dinner and walk around and go see some live music, and fly back the following afternoon none the worse for wear. With that in mind I scrambled to get my flight switched and made a reservation at the Nashville Doubletree. I haven't cut it so close with travel plans since my impromptu Labor Day weekend in San Francisco several years back, but all the changes cost me nothing and were relatively painless to arrange. With less than a week to spare, I used Yelp to research stuff to do and places to eat, and counted down the days to departure with anticipation.
Finally, Friday morning arrived, though not without a total lack of sleep. I was up by about 4:30 to finish packing and await the arrival of my friend Rob (he insisted on giving me a ride to the airport, even though I needed to be dropped at Midway by 6 a.m.). It was still dark when I reached my terminal, and I watched the sun rise over the runway while eating a hot pretzel.
My flight went off without a hitch, and I napped on and off through most of it. I made my way to baggage claim slowly, wanting to scout places to kill time when I was waiting for my return flight the next day, and thanks to my leisurely pace my suitcase was waiting on the carousel when I arrived. From there I made my way to the Grayline shuttle counter (my research informed me that they provided round-trip transport for only 20 bucks) and bought a ticket to my hotel and back. I knew I had arrived in the South when the ticket agent radioed the shuttle driver and informed him that he was to wait for my appearance. He said, "A young lady needs a ride to the Doubletree. She'll be comin' your way shortly."
It's been a long time since I've visited Tennessee, so of course being called a 'young lady' was incredibly charming, and a bit of a novelty. I thanked the ticket agent, grabbed a complimentary street map/visitor guide, and headed out to the parking lot. I found my driver within minutes, and when I approached his van he said, "Let me guess, you need a ride to the Doubletree." He said it with a devilish grin and a glint in his eye.
"That's right!" I said. And he took my suitcase and I hopped in the shuttle and off we went.
It was just me and one other woman who needed a ride, and so the driver chatted with us amiably the whole way. At one point, when we were on the highway, I looked out the window and saw a billboard promoting a Hank Williams exhibit at the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum. It quoted a line from one of his songs that says, "A country boy will survive," and immediately I thought of Jamie Noble when he was in ROH, because that was what he used as his entrance theme.
I marveled, as I have so many times in life, at how I'm able to find wrestling references no matter where I'm at or what I'm doing. And I wondered if I'd find more as my trip went on.......
That seems like a good place to leave off. I'll be back later with actual travel reportage. Hope this piques your interest for the time being! ;)
