I woke up in Kenova, and it took me a few minutes to recall how that happened. Then I checked out from my room. Did you know that more than half of the motels in the US are owned by Indians? The ones from India, not the other ones.
I started driving into Kentucky. The landscape changed as soon as I crossed the border. I was now driving through farms, endless green fields and many, many cows. They were walking around freely and happily, just waiting for their day to partake in Wendy’s glorious enterprise.
Then I saw a sign on a fence of one farm that said “used cows”. This made me quite upset. I mean, that’s not very specific, is it? If it says “used car” or “used toothbrush”, I have a very good sense of what that means. A cow, on the other hand, can be used in a variety of ways - was it milked? maybe they harnessed a plow to it? I don’t think I should be forced to stop the car, back into the driveway, look for the farm owner and start asking questions that make me look like a maniac just to find out that the cow has been used in fashions that prevent me from making use of it in the future.
But it’s really pretty, and green, and wide open.
Then I found myself in Paris, KY. It’s a cute little town. I stopped for lunch at the Grey Goose. The manager told me that the whole area is home to cattle and horse breeding businesses, and many important horse races are taking place, one of the biggest ones at that very moment.
I left Paris, again (ha ha) and drove on to Nashville. I got a room at the Savoy Motel and left to the city, to get food and beer and music.
Parking my truck was not easy, but then came Walter. tall, black, very nicely dressed young man who jumped in front of the truck and spent long, long minutes helping me to get the truck parked right. When I got out of the truck came the story - he’s a veteran, his wife is giving birth as we speak in the next town, he can’t get there since his car is in the parking and he’s eleven dollars and 72 cents short. And he was crying.
You know those times when you know you’re being fucked but you feel like it’s just your destiny?
Oh, you don’t. Well, I do. I gave him the money. Well, he did help me with parking, and if he made that story up - he was a very good writer, actor and producer. They should start giving awards to hustlers. I nominate Walter.
Then I saw five middle-aged women holding their out-of-control friend to the ground. a few feet from there, another one smashed her own head into the streetlight pole. Ah, America, I missed you
Then I went to Broadway street, which as I later discovered is also referred to as “Honky Tonk Row”. This is where the best shows are in Nashville.
All the bars have free music shows. At some point one of the band member will come down to the audience with a bucket and ask for tips. Taking the word of one of the performers, this is how they actually make their living.
I spent the rest of the night hopping around five or six clubs, getting beer and listening to some really good bands. I might have even slipped a “amen” or a “yeehaw” every now and then.
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