Days 11 and 12 - The Lashville Liquor Lobotomy

Nashville, Tennessee is a party town, a fact I learnt the hard way.

After overhearing at breakfast newly checked-in Captain Shady McCreeperson (complete with pirate’s doorag and walking stick/pegleg) mention to the clerk in the lobby that he would be entertaining a couple of ‘lady friends’ that night, we made a hasty departure from Morristown on Friday morning. The drive was fairly uninspiring, a roadside enterprise called Couch Painting Inc. taking the prize for most creatively named business.

We arrived in Nashville in good time and were buoyed by the resolve of the clouds to keep the rain off, though it was the greyest day we had experienced so far. We met new friends Aussie Andy and Manchester sisters Lucy and Charlotte just after checking in. Jannick grabbed a bite to eat at a Hooters round the corner, where brazenly seedy culture does not deter families from bringing their innocent little darlings out for a mouthful of burger and an eyeful of boob. I had a water; no doubt an ideologically motivated move on some level, I had also in fact just eaten my last cupcake from Bethesda in the car (thank you Georgetown).

We headed two streets down to check out the main Nashville strip, a street called Broadway. It was quite energised for mid-afternoon, with bands playing at some of the bars and a gaggle of middle-aged women emerging from another merrily exclaiming they had been there since 10.30am. We bought some souvenirs on Broadway and walked up the hill to have a cursory look around at the buildings up there, before heading back to the hostel. We were keen for a bit of downtime before we hit the town.

Dinner was had at the roof of the Rock Bottom Bar and Grill, an ominously prophetic sentiment for the night ahead. The omen was lost on me at this point though, and the three of us (Andy, Jannick, and myself) enjoyed a couple of pints and a chicken and mash and vegetables each as we watched night fall on the strip below. We headed back in the direction of the hostel to meet up with the girls again, who had been to a concert (avid country music fans). Propositioned on our way with promises of a free drink, we bounded into one of the door-to-door bars along the street. Getting back to the hostel at about half ten, Andy went to get changed before dazzling us with his card tricks and sleight of hand.

The five of us headed out again, this time making no delay on our way to Broadway (or, after another free drink at the place that gave us one about half an hour earlier). The night had transformed Nashville’s strip – lights, people, and music; the place had come alive like a hungry coyote with a taste for bad similes. The highlight of the Nashville experience is without a doubt the honky tonks; these bars are essentially free rock concerts, and they are everywhere. Country music reigns supreme in these cowboy castles. The first place we went to featured a great three-piece band who played Rage Against the Machine’s ‘Killing in the Name’ and other rock hits.

We spent the most time at the next stop, an establishment called Honky Tonk Central. Fronted by a boy-girl pair, their performance was enriched by charisma and audience participation. The punters thronged. Though we didn't know any of the songs, photo evidence suggests that we did enjoy ourselves. The concert atmosphere certainly makes everything seem more splendid. We chatted a bit to a friendly man outside who was manning a food stall.

New pal

Moving on, we came to another bar and met some more friends. One was a married couple who were very generous with drinks and, as Jan’s blog informs me, younger than us! We also collided with a hen party, the bride-to-be was out with her friends and her mother, and the cooperative police officer pictured below.

What followed this night of singing, dancing, and hoedowning was much less enjoyable. Nashville dealt me a colossal hangover, the magnitude of which would have been more profound had contents not been voided at earlier intervals. I spent the following day entirely horizontally, finally moving to shower at 10pm, only to instantly crawl back to the bunk and recede under the sheet cocoon. Emerging this morning much more refreshed, I finally had an appetite so Jannick and I had waffles and bacon - a breakfast Americana. As we drove out of Nashville, the city’s nocturnal predilections became all the more obvious – Broadway was desolate and the bright lights and black sky had been replaced with a greyish pallour of concrete and shopfront.

On to Mississippi now, cheers y'all!