Nashville Landing – June 17, 2010

Day 1 in Nashville.

First impression – the air here is sexy.  The air in Los Angeles is hot and arid and textureless.  The air here moves over you like silk.

The air is curiously odorless but for the occasional whiff of lilac.  Unusual, especially for a city by a river.

There is a generic downtown area

(Is this AT&T building making the rock n roll devil horn sign, or is it just me?)

There is also everything you would expect from a country music mecca.

Yes, this really exists

There are fully two immense stadiums, really quite close to one another.  Now I know I am singularly unqualified to comment on this, but I cannot come up with a single Nashville based sports team leave alone two.  I am sure one of you will be delighted to fill me in.

I checked into my hotel, which is a beautiful old building that used to be the train station.  (And yes, I rejected the first room I was given and now have a much more pleasant one).  Trains still rumble by which is slightly unnerving.

And this is directly across the street.  I am awaiting god’s pinch.

Checked in and immediately went on a search for food.  I am proud to say my record remains unblemished in my quest to not eat at a Hard Rock Cafe in every city I visit.  I decided to ease in slowly and would not eat in any establishment that featured live music, large TV sets on prominent display, anything named after a celebrity and any place where everything was deep fried, including the staff.  So after that didn’t work I settled in at Joe’s Crab Shack (a failure only on the final count).  Joe’s won the final draw because of their provision of bibs and the giant shark hanging from the rafters.

I had a rather pleasant caesar salad with a crab cake.

And sliced, deep fried tortilla chip shards(?)  I asked for a green tea and was met with a gaze like I had asked for a rectal exam.  I was brought an iced tea and a good serving of humility.

While I was wandering around I was struck with a sudden flash of insight.  I am sure this has happened to you all, and sometimes these bolts are very helpful.  (“Hey!  I think I remember where I left the spare keys”).  Sometimes not.   (“Hey!  I just remembered I don’t really like country music!”)  The latter is not so helpful when meandering about in the self proclaimed capital of country.   I am sure I will become imbued with the music and the culture in the few days I am here, and perhaps I may do a little shopping to encourage such a result.  Because you know what they do have here?  Boots.  Boots and hats.  Boots and hats and embroidered shirts.  I am going to full bore channel Marion Ross on the Happy Days western episodes and it will not be pretty.

More on the morrow.  I am going to turn in and lull myself to sleep with my new mantra:

“Ma’am is not an insult here.  Ma’am is not an insult here”

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