1. The Gaylord Hotel is too big. The massive layout is 2.1 MILLION square feet. It is nearly impossible to get from one place to another without a 10 minute walk. That’s perfectly fine but quite difficult for anyone over 75 years old or anyone carrying any unnecessary weight.
2. If such a thing is possible, the Gaylord is too beautiful. The architecture, the gardens, the meandering paths winding along side the disturbingly real fake river are breathtaking to the point of distraction.
3. How much anything costs and how much anything is worth is of course two completely separate things. Many factors are at play from manufacturing costs to demand, level of scarcity, plus what the market for any good is able to bear. But when I needed lip balm and found a tiny sleeve of Blistex at a hotel shop then heard the lady say, “That will be $6.94…” I felt victimized.
4. When you are attending a conference with 2,700 other attendees, you get to see the faces of people who do the same thing you do for a living at every turn for 96 hours and you hope and pray that you look and act different than many of them.
5. On the other hand, in delightful contrast, you realize just how special are the people from your own office. The people you work with are everything you knew them to be—smart, conscientious, thoughtful, and fun.
6. For everything there is a season, the old prophet says. Well, for me, roaming around from one honky-tonk to another on Broadway in downtown Nashville’s season has long past. A little of that activity goes a very long way. I mean…yeah, some of the bands were great, and the vibe and the history is interesting. But walking shoulder to shoulder with drunk strangers unable to communicate without screaming just isn’t a lot of fun—if you too are not drunk. Making the experience even more disconcerting were the presence of what must have been at least three dozen…
7. Homeless. This was not my first visit to Broadway, having done this a couple other times years ago with Patrick and Sarah. Back then there were a fair number of homeless people, but this time they lined the streets. They were everywhere, at the entrance to every bar, every restaurant. And this time a new wrinkle—almost all of them had a dog curled up forlornly at their feet. The homeless were almost all seated and few even held signs, most simply had a coffee can on the sidewalk in front of them gazing up at the throngs of revelers, hoping for a handout. It was as if they were saying…If you can’t have pity on me, do it for my puppy. Now, I know that the city of Nashville has probably a dozen programs to assist people in this condition. I also know that some of these folks are professional panhandlers and that I would be shocked at how much they haul in from gullible rubes like me. For this reason, I have always chosen not to encourage grifters. However, seeing them always cuts me on the inside. The juxtaposition of the partying masses with end of the road desperation is jolting. I watched one particular guy for probably an entire minute in front of some club and in all that time he never blinked his eyes, just sat there, emotionless, carelessly scratching his sleeping dog’s head. It’s the one clear image I have of Broadway…that one homeless guy, either a manipulative panhandler or a man at the end of his rope, closer to death than redemption.
There were plenty of bright moments on my trip. Best of all I got to see these guys…
Photo Credit, the beautiful and talented Sarah Dunnevant
Patrick and I got to go to dinner and attend the Grand Old Opry on somebody else’s dime and we had a great night doing so.
I also had company on the drive back and forth, a very old friend of mine and the new kid, a former offensive lineman for the Hampden-Sydney Tigers who assured me for weeks that it would be an “Epic road trip!!”. An hour in to the trip down, THIS happened:
In the kid’s defense, he was able to rally, and despite having the bladder of a teenage girl, he eventually proved to be an excellent wing man. His taste in music was impressive in one so young and inexperienced, so much so that I have come to suspect that he is actually a 60 year old man trapped in a 26 year old’s body. But, then again, that 26 year old body has a 16 year old brain…so the boy is a work in progress.
So, the week is over and I am safely back home, reunited with Pam and Lucy, eager for the kiddos coming around tonight with their costumes.
Finally, a few pictures of the Gaylord:
The view from my room.
All week, workers were decorating for Christmas. This was the first ornament I saw them put in place.
Soon, they were everywhere.
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