Nashvegas Takes Its Toll 18
I went back to Nashville (aka Nashvegas for the lights and music) last week for another visit and returned home Monday afternoon needing a vacation from my vacation. Luckily, my life’s current pace is very slow and I can adequately recuperate before anything or anyone actually requires something from me (except this blog). It was a week of drinks, dining and some subtle debauchery came crashing down Saturday night. And now to the main event…
I turned in my last undergraduate college essay Tuesday morning and left my psychology class ten minutes in out of pure boredom and to get my vacation started earlier. I got to SFO plenty early, boarded the plane and went to sleep. I thought I was destined for Nashville however, Southwest apparently finds it acceptable to leave stops off of your itinerary as long as you aren’t changing planes. Thus a lay over where you don’t change planes is still considered non-stop??? So you can expect the surprise I felt when I found out I was landing in San Diego an hour later, which is where my parents live (thought I booked the wrong destination by accident) and not Nashville, where I thought I was going.
Later I was informed by a Southwest employee of the tricky language and he told me I could get something to eat in SD and just return to the plane in ten minutes without a boarding pass. So I grabbed a disgusting, over-priced, soggy airport sandwich and returned to my seat on the plane hoping that this time when I take my nap and I would wake up in Nashville and not some other random U.S. city.
Despite the confusing day of travel, I ended up making it to Nashville. Wednesday was Vanderbilt day. I went to campus for a day of exploration and hopefully discovery. Unbeknownst to me at the start of the day, Vanderbilt is recognized as a national arboretum (aka they have some really cool fucking trees). I wandered from building to building and tried to get oriented to the atmosphere and layout of the campus so I don’t look like a confused freshman in August.
After buying some books and apparel for my family I decided to head home by walking through the medical center. Within ten minutes I was horribly lost. I had no idea where I was. The Vanderbilt Medical Center is probably ten to fifteen times the size of Dolores Park with every building being at least eight stories high. After twenty minutes of the VMC maze, I escaped and ended up in Centennial Park where the city of Nashville has build a proportional, exact replica of the world famous Parthenon (it is incredibly out of place and incongruous with the rest of Nashville, architectural and city planning at its worst).
That night my cousin and I went to his favorite watering hole, a bar called Tribe where we played pool and drank cheap beer. By ten o’clock we decided to meet up with a friend at a venue called “The End,” and listen to terrible music. The first band of indie rockers made us all cringe. The second band was led off by the singer doing a solo and a decent impersonation of Bob Dylan by playing the harmonica, guitar and singing. He performed well, but once the rest of his band joined him on stage they turned into a cacophony of broken harmonies and distorted guitars. Even my friend Ashley, the lead guitarist of ‘The Lowry Sisters,’ and an eternal optimist couldn’t give this band any real love. The solo was very entertaining and enthralling not only for his strength and independence on stage, but for his musical talent. But he should stick to his solo act, even though his band did have a song featured in ‘The Hills!’ (So they must have had an off night when I saw them, because The Hills features music by which we should judge all other music, right?)
Thursday was furniture shopping all day and it was so boring that I don’t even want to recount the events. Thursday evening I went to the Frist museum, which has an extensive collection of Monet and Picasso paintings. The best of the entire collection was ‘Dream’ by Dali. The title of the painting seems redundant because everything Dali painted as a surrealist was basically a dream. Also, this painting was particularly interesting because of his inclusion of a Jesus-like figure sitting atop a statue. Not sure what his symbolic intentions but regardless, his unusual images convince you that you are temporarily disconnected from reality.
Thursday night was dinner at a place called Mirror. It is an adult only restaurant, no screaming crying kids allowed. If you haven’t heard, Tennessee recently passed a law outlawing smoking in restaurants if kids eat there. If the merchant wants to allow smoking, children can no longer eat at the restaurant…ever, and Mirror chose smoking over kids. Other than the delicious food, the reason to eat at this restaurant is for the drinks. Stephanie Johnson is an award-winning bartender throughout Nashville who distills her own liqueurs that are so tasty it’s like drinking Starbursts. She also created a martini called Chocolate Cake, which tastes EXACTLY like chocolate cake batter. It’s shocking to take a sip because it seems as if your senses are betraying you. A clear, alcoholic beverage makes you think you just licked the spoon used to mix up some of Betty Crocker’s finest…just stunning.
Friday was nothing especially notable, but Saturday was a grand finale that I was not prepared for. It began with breakfast at the Loveless Café. The food is scrumptious, but the biscuits have made the café famous. Carol Fay is known as ‘the biscuit lady.’ She has been on Oprah, the Martha Stewart Show, Late Night with Conan O’brien and participates in an occasional cooking duel with Bobby Flay on the cooking channel. She stands at the front of the restaurant welcoming everyone and signing autographs for her anyone who asks, but really we just want her to reassure us that the biscuits are endless. We sat and ate…and ate, smothering ourselves with biscuits, gravy, jelly and sorghum followed by our entrees then stumbled out a couple hours later in a zombie-like food coma.
After some horizontal rest, I lounged around the house trying to avoid going out for the night. But once my cousin came downstairs dressed in cowboy boots and a very-western shirt, suggesting we go to the world famous Wild Horse Saloon for drinks and music, I couldn’t resist. Not to be outdone by his country outfit I ran upstairs and stole his $400+ ostrich skin cowboy boots to go with some Levi’s and a brown thermal (I almost broke my ankle walking in those fuckin’ shoes!).
Once at the Wild Horse, my cousin and I started slamming beers and preparing for the arrival of the loCash Cowboys who were performing while Faith Hill, Tim McGraw and the Maxim girls were coming to enhance the party. While waiting for the festivities to begin, we joined a bachelorette party where I was asked to give the bride-to-be a piggy-back ride around the bar (While wearing the cowboy boots, which almost caused me to drop her on her face, but thankfully she got down before it all ended in a disaster).
Instead of waiting for the stars to show up at Wild Horse, we tired of the scene and decided to return to Tribe for more beers. Then more beers. By eleven o’clock my cousin decided we were going next door to ‘Play’ where a drag queen show was about to begin. And at this point in the night, I’ve been drinking for four hours and it’s becoming difficult to discern who I am and where I’m at.
This was my first drag queen show and I was not ready for what I was about to see. The first woman was not disguised all that well, but the second one had me guessing. I have to admit it… she looked good. It didn’t disturb me, it is obviously possible to be attracted to someone’s appearance even if you don’t know their sex, but this queen looked hot. Instead of focusing on my confusion, I decided to drown myself with four more Corona’s and chat with another group of Belmont University students, who, once again were music business majors.
The town revolves around the country music scene! Whether they are aspiring stars or looking to be on the business end of the industry, fifty percent of the people I met were trying to be involved in some part of country music in Nashville. I’ve been told that Nashville and Los Angeles parallel with each other in this regard as people migrate to these meccas of hope and prosperity in show business. The music is alright, but for me Nashville isn’t about the music, it’s about school and maybe making out with Carrie Underwood.
The trip ended with naps, bloody marys, brunch and some more napping. Now I am back in San Francisco in desperate need of a vacation because of my vacation in Nashvegas.
P.S.- They still fly the confederate flag in the south/Tennessee because the Civil War was about money to them, not slavery. Sure money was a factor, but humanity always trumps financial benefits, or it should in this day and age.
I turned in my last undergraduate college essay Tuesday morning and left my psychology class ten minutes in out of pure boredom and to get my vacation started earlier. I got to SFO plenty early, boarded the plane and went to sleep. I thought I was destined for Nashville however, Southwest apparently finds it acceptable to leave stops off of your itinerary as long as you aren’t changing planes. Thus a lay over where you don’t change planes is still considered non-stop??? So you can expect the surprise I felt when I found out I was landing in San Diego an hour later, which is where my parents live (thought I booked the wrong destination by accident) and not Nashville, where I thought I was going.
Later I was informed by a Southwest employee of the tricky language and he told me I could get something to eat in SD and just return to the plane in ten minutes without a boarding pass. So I grabbed a disgusting, over-priced, soggy airport sandwich and returned to my seat on the plane hoping that this time when I take my nap and I would wake up in Nashville and not some other random U.S. city.
Despite the confusing day of travel, I ended up making it to Nashville. Wednesday was Vanderbilt day. I went to campus for a day of exploration and hopefully discovery. Unbeknownst to me at the start of the day, Vanderbilt is recognized as a national arboretum (aka they have some really cool fucking trees). I wandered from building to building and tried to get oriented to the atmosphere and layout of the campus so I don’t look like a confused freshman in August.
After buying some books and apparel for my family I decided to head home by walking through the medical center. Within ten minutes I was horribly lost. I had no idea where I was. The Vanderbilt Medical Center is probably ten to fifteen times the size of Dolores Park with every building being at least eight stories high. After twenty minutes of the VMC maze, I escaped and ended up in Centennial Park where the city of Nashville has build a proportional, exact replica of the world famous Parthenon (it is incredibly out of place and incongruous with the rest of Nashville, architectural and city planning at its worst).
That night my cousin and I went to his favorite watering hole, a bar called Tribe where we played pool and drank cheap beer. By ten o’clock we decided to meet up with a friend at a venue called “The End,” and listen to terrible music. The first band of indie rockers made us all cringe. The second band was led off by the singer doing a solo and a decent impersonation of Bob Dylan by playing the harmonica, guitar and singing. He performed well, but once the rest of his band joined him on stage they turned into a cacophony of broken harmonies and distorted guitars. Even my friend Ashley, the lead guitarist of ‘The Lowry Sisters,’ and an eternal optimist couldn’t give this band any real love. The solo was very entertaining and enthralling not only for his strength and independence on stage, but for his musical talent. But he should stick to his solo act, even though his band did have a song featured in ‘The Hills!’ (So they must have had an off night when I saw them, because The Hills features music by which we should judge all other music, right?)
Thursday was furniture shopping all day and it was so boring that I don’t even want to recount the events. Thursday evening I went to the Frist museum, which has an extensive collection of Monet and Picasso paintings. The best of the entire collection was ‘Dream’ by Dali. The title of the painting seems redundant because everything Dali painted as a surrealist was basically a dream. Also, this painting was particularly interesting because of his inclusion of a Jesus-like figure sitting atop a statue. Not sure what his symbolic intentions but regardless, his unusual images convince you that you are temporarily disconnected from reality.
Thursday night was dinner at a place called Mirror. It is an adult only restaurant, no screaming crying kids allowed. If you haven’t heard, Tennessee recently passed a law outlawing smoking in restaurants if kids eat there. If the merchant wants to allow smoking, children can no longer eat at the restaurant…ever, and Mirror chose smoking over kids. Other than the delicious food, the reason to eat at this restaurant is for the drinks. Stephanie Johnson is an award-winning bartender throughout Nashville who distills her own liqueurs that are so tasty it’s like drinking Starbursts. She also created a martini called Chocolate Cake, which tastes EXACTLY like chocolate cake batter. It’s shocking to take a sip because it seems as if your senses are betraying you. A clear, alcoholic beverage makes you think you just licked the spoon used to mix up some of Betty Crocker’s finest…just stunning.
Friday was nothing especially notable, but Saturday was a grand finale that I was not prepared for. It began with breakfast at the Loveless Café. The food is scrumptious, but the biscuits have made the café famous. Carol Fay is known as ‘the biscuit lady.’ She has been on Oprah, the Martha Stewart Show, Late Night with Conan O’brien and participates in an occasional cooking duel with Bobby Flay on the cooking channel. She stands at the front of the restaurant welcoming everyone and signing autographs for her anyone who asks, but really we just want her to reassure us that the biscuits are endless. We sat and ate…and ate, smothering ourselves with biscuits, gravy, jelly and sorghum followed by our entrees then stumbled out a couple hours later in a zombie-like food coma.
After some horizontal rest, I lounged around the house trying to avoid going out for the night. But once my cousin came downstairs dressed in cowboy boots and a very-western shirt, suggesting we go to the world famous Wild Horse Saloon for drinks and music, I couldn’t resist. Not to be outdone by his country outfit I ran upstairs and stole his $400+ ostrich skin cowboy boots to go with some Levi’s and a brown thermal (I almost broke my ankle walking in those fuckin’ shoes!).
Once at the Wild Horse, my cousin and I started slamming beers and preparing for the arrival of the loCash Cowboys who were performing while Faith Hill, Tim McGraw and the Maxim girls were coming to enhance the party. While waiting for the festivities to begin, we joined a bachelorette party where I was asked to give the bride-to-be a piggy-back ride around the bar (While wearing the cowboy boots, which almost caused me to drop her on her face, but thankfully she got down before it all ended in a disaster).
Instead of waiting for the stars to show up at Wild Horse, we tired of the scene and decided to return to Tribe for more beers. Then more beers. By eleven o’clock my cousin decided we were going next door to ‘Play’ where a drag queen show was about to begin. And at this point in the night, I’ve been drinking for four hours and it’s becoming difficult to discern who I am and where I’m at.
This was my first drag queen show and I was not ready for what I was about to see. The first woman was not disguised all that well, but the second one had me guessing. I have to admit it… she looked good. It didn’t disturb me, it is obviously possible to be attracted to someone’s appearance even if you don’t know their sex, but this queen looked hot. Instead of focusing on my confusion, I decided to drown myself with four more Corona’s and chat with another group of Belmont University students, who, once again were music business majors.
The town revolves around the country music scene! Whether they are aspiring stars or looking to be on the business end of the industry, fifty percent of the people I met were trying to be involved in some part of country music in Nashville. I’ve been told that Nashville and Los Angeles parallel with each other in this regard as people migrate to these meccas of hope and prosperity in show business. The music is alright, but for me Nashville isn’t about the music, it’s about school and maybe making out with Carrie Underwood.
The trip ended with naps, bloody marys, brunch and some more napping. Now I am back in San Francisco in desperate need of a vacation because of my vacation in Nashvegas.
P.S.- They still fly the confederate flag in the south/Tennessee because the Civil War was about money to them, not slavery. Sure money was a factor, but humanity always trumps financial benefits, or it should in this day and age.
Comments
posted on Apr 22 at 7:30 pm
The Loveless Cafe's fried chicken is worth flying in for from anywhere. I used to live in Nashvegas, too. Next time, go to the Bluegrass Inn....
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