long and hard is the road of the transgressor

This will have to be short.

Nashville reminds me of Niagara Falls, only with a country music and blues twist.

I was really hungry when we arrived, and rattled and tired from getting lost. I was in charge of navigation and ended up being unreliable which means, in the micropolitics of the car, that I had kind of fucked up, which made me very anxious. Somewhere around the Birthplace of Abraham Lincoln, we got off the highway we were on, and spent more time on Kentucky backwoods roads than we cared to. The signs on the roads were all ominous: Hell Is Real. Thou Shalt Not Kill (under a photo of a hand-sized baby). Long and Hard Is the Road of the Transgressor. I felt like I was in a Flannery O'Connor short story. The hilly, winding roads made map-reading dizzying, almost nauseating for me. Were those people in the horse-drawn carriages Amish or Shakers or Mennonites?

It is interesting to consider how one might record uneasiness and tension between travelers. I might have to figure that one out later. The view out the window as well as the details of the car's interior become a good focal point for eyes that need something to look at while things blow over. Melanie's car, Astrid, is a two-door hatchback, and it is packed to the gills. Those of us over six-feet tall must pretzel ourselves or accordian ourselves for the drive, and so discomfort, plus hunger, plus exhuastion, plus stupidity equals . . . hm . . . Over drinks every night: "Is that going to be in the blog?"

Once we got into Nashville, we checked into our Best Western and went wandering in search of food. This is the part of the country where it is difficult to find vegetarian food. (Again, those who know me also know that, without food, my body begins to shake, and will eventually shut down, which is a real joy for other bodies in search of sustenance, I know.) The waitress in the sports bar-music video restaurant was not the first person who wanted to know where we were from, and what we were up to: "Where are y'all from? O, really? Huh. So -- what are y'all *doing*?" She was very kind when I asked if I could get my salad without bacon, cheese, and eggs.

We did get to listen to some fine music last night, and, after the Maker's Mark Distillery Tour yesterday (blue laws on Sunday prevented us from getting any!), we were craving its wooden mellowness. The bourbon was on ice, the music was by request, and Hank was like a living juke box. Again, the long day and the road seemed to melt with the drinks, and I couldn't have been more happy to be with my beloved companions.

Today we are headed to Memphis, to see Graceland and some more music. Melanie and Hank are looking forward to some soul food, so I have done my research: apparantly there is a vegetarian restaurant near the University of Memphis, so I'll head over there for some food later this evening and see if it is wired.

I bet Melanie is done with her shower by now, and Hank must have snuck by me and hit the Continental breakfast (this one is the best so far -- it includes oatmeal and has a waffle maker). Wish us luck in Memphis. We'll be headed to New Orleans after Memphis, and will stay with some friends of Melanie's and visiting an old friend of ours from Syracuse.