We went from traveling 100 miles on day one to about 900 on
day two—started in Fincastle, blew right through Bristol and wound up about an
hour outside of Kansas City, MO. Besides the driving, we were able to do some
sightseeing in Nashville, and we got to try some St. Louis ribs, of which my
mom remarked, “I believe yours are better, Merle” (the man does make some
damned good ribs).
In Nashville, we saw the Ryman Theater (OG Grand Ole Opry),
the Johnny Cash Museum, and had lunch while listening to live music on Broadway
Street. Spending only two hours in a place only gives one a taste of its
flavor. However, I’d say I quite like the vibe in Nashville—a juxtaposition of
lively glitz and laid back southern comfort, with flashing signs advertising
bars and music venues interlard with homemade candy shops, denim and boots
stores, and ice cream parlors. If it were a person, it would be Conway Twitty,
in his best embroidered, rhinestone pants suit singing “Hello Darlin’.”
We ate at a bar called Rippy’s. We were hungry, and it was
the first place we stumbled upon that had live music. Had we walked a bit
further down Broadway, we would’ve discovered that nearly every establishment on
that street had live music—mostly covers of well-known country songs. The food
was decent bar food and the singers good bar singers, though one of the fellas
had a bit more spunk in his performance, which we all enjoyed. I also enjoyed
the people watching, which included a middle-aged gentleman drinking beer and
sketching other patrons, and then giving them his sketches.
With so many live performers on this one street alone, we
all wondered how these establishments could afford to pay artists to play at
all hours of the day. Well, it’s because they don’t really pay them, or they
pay them minimally. All of these singers have tip buckets and they make their
money when patrons toss in a few bucks—seemingly only a step up from street
performers (which I happen to enjoy, so there is no judgement here). Of course,
the patrons aren’t paying a cover to see the live music, so it only makes sense
that one would pay the artist directly, and of course, being a “paid by tips”
performer in Nashville, the place where country music lives and breathes, is
pretty special.
So that was my two hours in Nashville…in a nutshell. Ha. The
rest of the day mostly consisted of driving. We made a brief pit stop in St.
Louis to get ribs, at Spare No Rib, which were “good but not great,” according
to rib-expert Dawn Goolsby. Finding the place was no cake walk either, and at
one point we found ourselves down a dead end alley, with the enforcer, Mrs.
Goolsby, poised to get her pocketknife. I will say that despite the difficulty
in hunting the place down and the ribs not being heaven in the form of pig
bones, I liked it. They also served tacos, and their Chorizo taco was one of
the best I’ve ever had. Their baked beans were pretty damned good as well.
Not wanting to spend a ton of money on a hotel in the city,
we continued the drive, with the goal of making Kansas City, however fatigue
got the best of us and we wound up stopping in a sort-of Midwest ghost town,
about an hour from Kansas City, and staying at a Super 8 that, in the words of
my free spirited, non-judgmental mother, “smelled like pee in some spots,” but
had surprisingly clean rooms and amazingly comfy beds.
More to come of our adventures tomorrow!
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