My Idle Ramblings

First annual Cousins’ trip – Nashville
March 21-24, 2024

Cousin Mark thought I had enough material for a short story. An excellent opportunity to delve into a little creative non-fiction. Warning: this is not one of my mom’s logs of our family vacations on the boat. Nor is it a recounting of our road trips to Disney when the kids were little. It is a fun retelling of an adult-only weekend in Nashville with my cousins – Mark, Jenny, Karen, and Rick. Fair warning…

IN THE BEGINNING
Planning for this epic adventure started Labor Day weekend 2023. Cousins Mark and Jenny hosted a family get together the Sunday after the MI v. ECU game. Let me just say that the effects of climate change were in full effect – freaking 85 degrees on Labor Day weekend in MI. Cousin Jenny floated an idea about the Cousins going on a trip together, and she wanted to go to Nashville. Alright, I’m in. Always wanted to check out Nashville, particularly since I had been convinced that there was more than country music there. I have a love of 90s country music but draw line before and after the 90s. Very thick lines. Cousin Jenny expertly made all the arrangements, and I think we were set to go before Christmas.  

FAST FORWARD
Thursday, March 21
Happy, happy birthday Cousin Mark! Yes, this weekend conveniently coincided with his birthday. Wonder how that happened?

I flew into BNA from Charlotte. The rest of the crew flew in from Flint. We hopped into an Uber for the 13-minute drive, 20-25 minutes with traffic, to the Airbnb. All good. None of us have anywhere to be for the next few days.

Nice place, the Airbnb. Everyone has their own room with an ensuite bathroom. Four floors though. The initial clue about “the stairs” in Nashville. Stocked the kitchen with provisions, freshened up after traveling, primed for a bit and then headed downtown for dinner. All of us were ready for food and more drink.  

Cousin Karen pick Miranda Lambert’s for dinner. We needled our way through the crowd to the second floor and put our name on the list. The second clue about “the stairs” in Nashville. Then I don’t know how many flights of stairs to the rooftop. As promised, live music on every level. Round one of drinks with entertainment while hovering in a holding pattern for a table. Strike one on my beverage of choice – Guinness. I have my standards when it comes to beer. Settled on a Bacardi and Coke. Dinner opened with queso and chips followed by an assortment of Tex-Mex dishes. Enchiladas for me, please.

Next stop – Kid Rock’s to support the hometown boy. Oh my, how do I describe this place. Packed! And it was Thursday night. Technically, Thursday is the first bar night of the weekend. Or at least, Ladies Night use to be the official start. We made a wrong turn and ended making nearly a full circle through the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd. Who am I kidding here, it was freaking body-to-body. A bit unnerving for a small woman like me. And I have standards about who I bump bodies with. Did I just think that out loud? More stairs but not too much to get excited about on each floor. Strike two on getting a Guinness and had to get another liquor drink.

Ventured back out onto Broadway and landed at Garth Brooks’ place. I was a little slow figuring out the logo was “friends in low places.” No judgment, please. Favorite bar of the night – 90s country, seats at the bar, lots of singing, and more importantly, Guinness. Closed out the day about 12:30a local time, 1:30a our time. I recall a comment about not seeing 12:30a was since the last time they woke up to pee. My 2a-3a creative writing sessions don’t count. Some of my best work happens in the quiet of the night.

Friday, March 22
Friday morning, I joined Cousin Karen for coffee. She admitted that she wasn’t sure if she could handle late nights and the drinking. She said it first, not me. Over breakfast, we mutually agreed that it was day drinking for us, and we soldiered on. First stop on our first full day – Ole Smokey Distillery. The drinking commenced with a tasting. For the record, I don’t do shots. I have standards but I’ll be a team player. Samples started with some sort of retched fire water that burned my throat. Not a good start. Thankfully, it got better – raspberry, peanut butter, chocolate, mint chocolate chip, and some other unorthodox flavor. I resorted to half shots and got some much shit from the Cousins. The bartender came to my defense, offering mixed shots. Raspberry + PB = PB&J, PB + Chocolate = Reese’s Cup, Chocolate + Mint Chocolate Chip = Yummy. The best part of the tasing was the Dunkel. With a couple swirls of chocolate whisky, please.

True to my nature, I wanted to get off the tourist treadmill. Great suggestions from a friendly group in our tasting. Cousin Karen, it’s the Bobby Hotel, not the Booby. Freaking auto-correct. No judgment. Heeding the advice of the bartender, we ventured to Printer’s Alley. First and only stop, Bourbon Street Blues and Boogie Bar. Three old-timers rocking some hardcore blues greeted us. I was instantly taken by their authenticity. I found my place! A solid rendition of Bob Marley’s “Stir It Up” sealed the deal for me.

The second band was penned as the Off Broadway Blues Band. I’m thinking as in off Broadway NYC? It’s the simple things that trip me up. Now if I’m going to swoon, it’s not for the front man. My ogling is usually reserved for the lead guitarist. Nothing like a whining or screaming Les Paul. So, the fan-girl fascination with the band’s front man and bass player surprised me. A seasoned musician with strong stage presence and a bluesy, sultry voice, playing some of my favorite music. Oh, heart be still. Shit, I shouldn’t think out loud. It’s about the music.

I mean, what bar band plays “Into the Mystic?” How much do I love this song? It’s featured in Chapter 1, paragraph 2 of my current manuscript:

“I washed down a couple of ibuprofens and sank into the worn leather chair. Outside the windows, the glow of the fresh snowfall brightened the moonless woods. Van Morrison beckoned me into the mystic, calming the anxiety amped up by the turbulent flight from New York and the harrowing landing on the ice-covered runway in Detroit.“

Of all the great Jimi Hendrix music, they played “The Wind Cries Mary.” Another heart-be-still moment. BTW “Dolly Dagger” is my other favorite Hendrix song. Wink, wink. Throw in some Marvin Gaye, Robert Cray, and countless other favorites, and I’m impressed. And how apropos is playing Susie Q? Oh, how I hated this song when I was a little girl. I’m okay with it now. If the music and his infectious smile weren’t enough, he’s a Michigan man, feeding my recent nostalgia for my home state. Thus, the Bassman was certainly ogle-worthy. Damn, entertain me please. Geez, Suzanne – remember you have standards?

The salacious banter among the crew fanned the flames. Okay, who am I kidding – the prevailing metaphoric theme of the weekend was downright bawdy, a solid R-rating. All in good fun, of course, and it made for lots of laughs. Great minds think alike.  

Part of the fun was an offhand remark about dropping my phone number in the tip jar. Despite the continuous flow of liquid courage, such a deed was beyond my bravado. Standards, remember? Oh, but not Cousin Karen. Let’s see, how do I describe the moment I discovered a text from the Bassman? I think an “867-5309/Jenny” moment says it all. At a total loss for words in reply. I’m a writer – how the hell does that happen? By far, Friday was the best day of the weekend. Take me back to the Alley.

Saturday, March 23
Despite all the alcohol consumed the previous day, Saturday morning wasn’t too bad, proving the wisdom of our day drinking strategy. Today’s adventure started at Robert’s Western World for fried bologna sandwiches, and of course, drinking. Once again, no Guinness but they had Shiner Bock, an excellent substitute. After lunch, the goal was hockey tickets. Cousin Rick scored some amazing seats (15 rows from the ice) and cause for celebration at Hank Williams’ place. My luck ran out – no stouts of any kind, and opted for a couple Jack and Cokes. Buckets of beer for the Cousins. Make that two buckets plus eight more but who’s counting.

The Red Wings game, another highlight of the weekend. Lots of winged wheels repping in the corridors, red in the stands, and spirited chants from the Detroit constituency in the house. The Wings lost, but it was an intense game including an epic fight. The only acceptable fisticuffs. Dropped the gloves, let’s go! Then, it was back on the street, climbing numerous flights of stairs at a few places in search of food and drink. I’m certain my ass is a bit tighter after hiking all the stairs this weekend. Dinner and drinks were not happening at 7pm on Saturday night on Broadway. We escaped around a corner onto a side street that was no less packed with a mass of humanity. The consolation prize – the Ryman Auditorium. Heavy sigh. Wish I could have seen it under better circumstances. After braving the overflowing Shake Shack, a long cold wait for the Uber back to the Airbnb. Not fun.

Sunday, March 24
A long day of travel for me on Sunday. Funny how the Cousins had a longer flight to get home but less travel time. It took me forever. First, the best flight, the one at the same time as the Cousins, was full. So, a long wait until my 2:22p flight. No problem though. I spent my time putting words on paper. It felt so good after being away from writing for a few days. Then, of course, my flight was delayed with a gate change. I don’t think a flight departs or arrives in Charlotte without a delay. All good, I was tired but I had a lovely conversation with Kelley from Atlanta on the plane. It was her birthday, so she told me all about her weeklong travels to celebrate with her family. Then a stop on the way back to the house to have dinner with my bestie and check in with my daughter at Brickhouse Tavern.

Back to reality now except I’m off contract from my consulting job for the foreseeable future, and nothing to do but write. My happy place. I owed my editor 75,000 words by the end of the week. Fortunately, I finished polishing most of these chapters before Nashville because I was seriously distracted after the weekend. The zone where I lose track of the time and day, elusive. Too much daydreaming. Too much night thinking. Maybe, too much fun? Eventually, everything readjusted as Cousin Rick put it. I’m not the only one in the family that has a way with words:

Thanks for all the fun, Nashville. Until next time, adieu.