I forgot:
my bike. The weather in Boulder was awesome. Live and learn...
Anyhoo, I went on another trip—this time to Nashville, Tennessee. "Why Nashville?" Because it's a beautiful place. and it was cheaper than England. England won't be going anywhere, by the dollar should get stronger before too long. I hope. And I digress.
My old buddy, Alan, and I decided on Nashville because I love the place and he hadn't been to that part of the country. Easy enough. We left on Saturday morning. I went out the night before and was running on five hours of sleep. Gassed up. Set with food. Drinks (water and sodas, funny guy). Music and podcasts ready. And I brought the bikes! Ha! I wasn't too tired to forget anything this time.
Alan and I were best friends from 7th grade until our separate careers pulled us in different directions. Alan was the funniest guy I knew and we were often finishing each other's jokes. He recently moved closer and we have been hanging out a bit. He was the first person I thought of when I wanted to go to England. When we decided on Nashville, Alan was all for it. This was going to be a funny trip.
The drive was long. We got in about 12 hours later. We met Brit and Trina for dinner - BBQ - then we headed for a bar in downtown Nashville. The Red Door. Sounds like a gay bar, and by judging all the frat guys and the women that love them, it was. The place was super crowded and it took us a bit to get drinks. Brit and Trina were married just over two years ago (methinks) and the bar, The Red Door, was where we went after their wedding and reception. It was also the bar where Trina had words with one of the aforementioned frat guys, and Brit's brother-in-law (a Marine with Iraqi shrapnel stuck in his face) knocked said homophobe's teeth out. Needless to say, their wedding night was memorable for everyone-not just themselves. Alas, there would be no frat guy gay-bashing one of trina's friends. There would be no fist fights or thrown bottles. There would be no broken teeth being kicked into the gutter by Brit's sister. There would be no police questioning. The only thing repeated from my first visit to The Red Door was a good bit of laughter. Alan and I were both whipped, so we headed back to the hotel around one.
The hotel was a bit pricier than we were both used to so we planned on getting everything we could from the stay. This included planning to get up earlier than it made sense to enjoy the breakfast bar. Advice to anyone thinking that a breakfast bar is an added bonus for paying too much for a hotel: IT'S NOT. Hurriedly scarfing a few boxes of Golden Grahams while nursing a headache due to lack of sleep is NOT an added bonus. Drinking shotglass-sized portions of orange "juice" in a predawn version of Beat The Clock is not an added bonus. The danishes were good, but still not an added bonus. After retuning to the room to finish my needed sleep, we woke up to cloudy skies. We headed to the Shelton's new house, east in Murfreesboro.
Brit was an old acquaintance of mine in high school. Actually, he was the first of the Sheehan circle I ever met. Some time around 8th grade. Brit is a super nice guy and when were were able to hang out, he proved to be a top notch person. Quick with a smile and very friendly. He doesn't have a drop of pretense about him. It was only fitting when he married the epitome of the girl next door. Trina was a Tennessee native and they met while Brit was teaching one of her classes at the local university. SCORE! Pretty, funny, and personable. Perfect for Brit. Their new house was every bit as cute as they are: big but practical with room to grow. We saw their dogs, Justice, a young Black-faced boxer with a spazzy side, and Carson, a mature Yorkie with a oversized sense of bravery. Carson was the shit. Brit also gave us a tour of his gun safe, then the campus where he used to work.
The next day, Alan and I headed out to Lynchburg to see the Jack Daniel's distillery. I recommend the tour to anyone. Except alcoholics. Because the distillery is in a dry county and after spending the day walking around a drunk's mecca, they serve lemonade. It was good lemonade, though. After the tour, we went to downtown Lynchburg (google it. I just made a funny joke...) and looked at all the Jack Daniel's souvenirs one could ever want. Except Jack Daniel's whiskey.
brb
Anyhoo, I went on another trip—this time to Nashville, Tennessee. "Why Nashville?" Because it's a beautiful place. and it was cheaper than England. England won't be going anywhere, by the dollar should get stronger before too long. I hope. And I digress.
My old buddy, Alan, and I decided on Nashville because I love the place and he hadn't been to that part of the country. Easy enough. We left on Saturday morning. I went out the night before and was running on five hours of sleep. Gassed up. Set with food. Drinks (water and sodas, funny guy). Music and podcasts ready. And I brought the bikes! Ha! I wasn't too tired to forget anything this time.
Alan and I were best friends from 7th grade until our separate careers pulled us in different directions. Alan was the funniest guy I knew and we were often finishing each other's jokes. He recently moved closer and we have been hanging out a bit. He was the first person I thought of when I wanted to go to England. When we decided on Nashville, Alan was all for it. This was going to be a funny trip.
The drive was long. We got in about 12 hours later. We met Brit and Trina for dinner - BBQ - then we headed for a bar in downtown Nashville. The Red Door. Sounds like a gay bar, and by judging all the frat guys and the women that love them, it was. The place was super crowded and it took us a bit to get drinks. Brit and Trina were married just over two years ago (methinks) and the bar, The Red Door, was where we went after their wedding and reception. It was also the bar where Trina had words with one of the aforementioned frat guys, and Brit's brother-in-law (a Marine with Iraqi shrapnel stuck in his face) knocked said homophobe's teeth out. Needless to say, their wedding night was memorable for everyone-not just themselves. Alas, there would be no frat guy gay-bashing one of trina's friends. There would be no fist fights or thrown bottles. There would be no broken teeth being kicked into the gutter by Brit's sister. There would be no police questioning. The only thing repeated from my first visit to The Red Door was a good bit of laughter. Alan and I were both whipped, so we headed back to the hotel around one.
The hotel was a bit pricier than we were both used to so we planned on getting everything we could from the stay. This included planning to get up earlier than it made sense to enjoy the breakfast bar. Advice to anyone thinking that a breakfast bar is an added bonus for paying too much for a hotel: IT'S NOT. Hurriedly scarfing a few boxes of Golden Grahams while nursing a headache due to lack of sleep is NOT an added bonus. Drinking shotglass-sized portions of orange "juice" in a predawn version of Beat The Clock is not an added bonus. The danishes were good, but still not an added bonus. After retuning to the room to finish my needed sleep, we woke up to cloudy skies. We headed to the Shelton's new house, east in Murfreesboro.
Brit was an old acquaintance of mine in high school. Actually, he was the first of the Sheehan circle I ever met. Some time around 8th grade. Brit is a super nice guy and when were were able to hang out, he proved to be a top notch person. Quick with a smile and very friendly. He doesn't have a drop of pretense about him. It was only fitting when he married the epitome of the girl next door. Trina was a Tennessee native and they met while Brit was teaching one of her classes at the local university. SCORE! Pretty, funny, and personable. Perfect for Brit. Their new house was every bit as cute as they are: big but practical with room to grow. We saw their dogs, Justice, a young Black-faced boxer with a spazzy side, and Carson, a mature Yorkie with a oversized sense of bravery. Carson was the shit. Brit also gave us a tour of his gun safe, then the campus where he used to work.
The next day, Alan and I headed out to Lynchburg to see the Jack Daniel's distillery. I recommend the tour to anyone. Except alcoholics. Because the distillery is in a dry county and after spending the day walking around a drunk's mecca, they serve lemonade. It was good lemonade, though. After the tour, we went to downtown Lynchburg (google it. I just made a funny joke...) and looked at all the Jack Daniel's souvenirs one could ever want. Except Jack Daniel's whiskey.
brb
posted by M. E. Davis at 8:23 PM
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