Friday, June 12, 2009

Rain Drops, Hot Dogs, Wisdom


It’s raining…very, very hard. Lightning. The sky lights up in blue flashes. It’s seems close but I can’t hear any thunder. The rain on the roof is very loud. I’m trying to decide if I should wait a few minutes inside or just make a run for it. More lightning. This rain isn’t letting up anytime soon and I’m locked out of the restaurant. More blue flashes. So if I wait I have to wait in the back foyer which is covered but not really pleasant. Lightning.


I’m running across the parking lot towards my car. I’m soaked in no more than ten seconds and I have a good way to go to get my car. I’m nervous about the lightning and it all strikes me as incredibly funny. I have a huge smile on my face and I’m laughing out loud running through a soaking rain. It feels good to run. I’m really stretching my legs out fully and jumping puddles and running hard. I haven’t run like this in a long time. The rain is cold and feels good after such a hot day.


The weather in Nashville is whimsical and extreme. I’ve never experienced so much weather in all my life as I have in 6 months in Nashville. I’m in the Red Door Saloon in East Nashville. I love this place. It’s loud with people talking, the sandwiches are good (read: cheap) and it’s a good place to watch. There is a tornado watch in effect until midnight. I decided while driving home that if a tornado comes through I want to be around people and not in my apartment (I’m afraid it might fall down around me).


There’s a barmaid with an interesting hairstyle. She looks a little like Reece Witherspoon in the face and of course she sounds a little like her since this is Nashville. I think she’s older than me but she’s kind of pretty. I have my Chicago Dog in front of me. I have my PBR. My hair and clothes are soaked. The rain has driven a lot of people here tonight and they are mostly around my age (give or take 10 years). Age doesn’t matter in Nashville. Tattoos matter. Piercings matter. Hairstyles matter. Isn’t that what matters everywhere? When they named this place “music city” did they ever imagine it would become such a wonderfully vibrant mix of people? I imagine some guy in a cowboy hat came up with the name. He had no idea.


The rain has subsided. My dog and my PBR are finished. There’s a sign on top of the t.v. in the corner that says “I’m not bashful. I’m from Nashville.” It says a lot about the atmosphere in this place. I’m reserved by nature. That sign is kind of like an instruction to me. I look at it every time I come in here. If a wise old woman were going to give me advice about how to get by in Nashville, in America, in life; they could do far worse than to say; “Don’t be shy!”

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