My ride to Nashville was a relaxing endeavor. I knew fun times were ahead as I always liked hanging out with Paul when he's in town but our paths don't cross all that often. I began to listen to my pirated audiobook Mister B. Gone by Clive Barker (as read by Doug Bradley) and felt a bit of a relief getting out of Cincinnati. In the beginning of this trip I had a hard time getting into the whole book on CD thing, but by this time I had more than just gotten used to them, and I'd gone into a near trancelike state while it was on. So trancelike, that I drove right p
ast the sign saying to take the next exit to get to Dinosaurworld, but not trancelike enough to miss the giant dinosaur after the exit had gone by with a sign chastizing me for missing it. I will never forgive myself for this infraction.
Nashville was only about 4 hours from Cincinnati so the trip took a short time to complete. I stopped at the welcoming center on the Tennessee border to get some snacks and see what was so welcoming about it. It really wasn't all that welcoming now that I reflect back on it as a family of four waited for me intently while I finished picking out what I was to get out of the vending machines before even going inside the building. I got my eats and was given a wide girth when I walked out. In the car I chowed down and waited for a call back from Paul to figure out what was going on. He said he had a meeting of sorts so I went to fooBAR (the bar his girlfriend manages) to have a few drinks and wind down from the drive. Upon Paul's arrival we got pizza and decimated it in minutes.
Afterwards we hopped into Paul's '32 Sedan to take a ride downtown so he could show me some of the sights and get me acquainted to the area. It was still in the process of being worked on so it didn't have any windows, save the windshield, but it was nice enough weather. Not to mention, I felt like a total badass riding around in that thing. We found parking downtown somewhere and walked around looking at all the tacky souvenier shops and music stores as well as the millions upon millions of bars with some nondescript country band playing cover tunes in them. I became more acquainted with the bars downtown the following day, as well as the music which was
pretty 50/50 as far as the goods and bads. One of these times which was made clear almost instantly which one it was, was when we got into a venue in East Nashville to see a band Paul had seen on Nashvillepunk.com as well as a burlesque show that was supposed to follow the musical act. What we got upon entry was, inarguably, as sad as it was hilarious. The trio of 30-something year old mall freaker characters up on stage was almost too much to take which lead to our early departure. If you ever get the chance to see the Flashcut Pinups please do. They didn't seem to get past the "we need our rock star clothes to be good" phase of most middle school bands, so they were dressed to tickle you with laughter. Fishnets and Nike running shoes, more fishnets, goofy anime-esque leg warmers, and even a doctor's lab jacket thrown in for good measure. Apparently the two girls in that band were two out of the three girls in the burlesque show, so after hearing that we weren't convinced the 3rd had enough talent to hold it together and we took off during a horrible cover of the Ramones "Pet Sematary".
We stopped at a few places more that fail me right now and we eventually decide to just go back to fooBAR and catch whatever band is playing there. They were some kind of grungy alt-rock band where the bug-eyed singer/guitarist wanted to be in Mudhoney while the rest of the band looked more suited for college jam band rock. That being said, they were leagues better than Flashcut Pinups so I enjoyed myself. After that we went downtown again hoping for something better to jump out at us. It (kind of) did in the form of a strip club. A platinum blonde that I had trouble seeing over her fake breasts gave us both flyers that looked like they were printed out on one of those old ribbon printers advertising a joint in Painter's Alley called Brass Stables. I
figured, shit, it's a strip club in Nashville and it's only a few blocks away, let's check it out. We spent some time walking around to find Painter's Alley but to no avail. We asked several people and they said it was right off of the street we were on, and there was a giant neon banner over it, and we couldn't miss it. Miss it we did. We started to feel like we had been had when we had turned around and decided to give up. When walking Paul pointed out to a rather large alley that did, in fact, have a huge fucking neon sign over it with PAINTER'S ALLEY clearly written out. From what he had heard, sometime in the 60's maybe (I don't remember) the Outlaws and the Hell's Angels had an all out gang war in there that got so bad the streets outside the alley ran red with blood.
So we saw the place and figured it must be something else entirely as it looked more like, well, not a strip club. It was pretty grimey actually. So we kept walking to see if there possibly was another strip club further up, but no luck. When walking back we weren't too sure if we were going to go in until a portly guy with a big smile came out and said to us: "Hey boys! You like tits?" to which we answered with a confident yes. He told us of the free food, and the alleged nude karaoke, and how gorgeous the dancers were, blah blah blah. We handed him our $15 and went in. The free food seemed kinda shoddy when we got in so neither one of us were too into the idea of eating any of it, and the club atmosphere was pretty grim. An attractive blonde stripper came and sat down in between us after we had taken our seats, said hello, and then proceeded to look miserable without saying a word. Both her hands on her lap. It was awkward to say the least. I asked her how to get a beer there and she said they didn't actually serve beer there, they had to get it across the street and bring it back for you. Upon hearing this I immediately lost the rest of my interest and it seemed that Paul was also not enjoying himself. We left and the fat man at the door didn't look too surprised. "Bye fellas"
When we were walking back to his car it seemed as if we shared the same sentiments. The stench of shame hung heavy in that club and it was hard to shake afterwards. None of the girls liked their jobs, none of them danced like they wanted anyone to see them in public, and they all had a cloud of misery hanging over their heads as if the smallest thing would set them off. All the
patrons were elderly chain smoking old men that had a pathetic hunger in their eyes that had far surpassed having a good time. Paul pointed out that if they had to advertise free food we should have taken that immediately as a red flag. "Shouldn't the face that women are dancing nude for your enjoyment be enough to bring in customers? Free food should be the last of their concerns." I almost (almost) lost my zeal for strip clubs for good, but upon some coaxing I think I could manage another trip to a carefully chosen one.
The next morning I wake up from the awesome spare bed loaned out to me and got dressed. Paul's girlfriend's old friend from Texas was in town so we all met him for lunch at this place called Rose Pepper or something along those lines. He's the singer for Hank Williams III metal band Assjack which was kind of cool because I used to be a big fan years ago when they came through town. I guess they were on their way out that night for tour and they were using Nashville as a starting location. Two of their other friends, a tall outspoken redheaded girl and a soft spoken southern gent, came out too. After we all ordered our food I realized I was the only asshole that didn't order an enchilada but it was well worth it as the fajita tray they brought out was stacked up miles high with pure deliciousity. We ate, talked, and parted ways. Upon getting home I sat down for a minue to try and get my body in digestion mode when Paul asks if I'm in the mood to drink a lot of beer. First reaction was I was far from it, but upon further review I decided it was the best thing for me to do. His friends from this band Curbside Saints (one of which I had partied with in Albany in his old band Civil Uprising that I didn't remember until after the fact) were going out so Paul proposed we meet them at this Irish bar Mulligan's.
We spent a long time trying to find parking anywhere as it was a Saturday night in Nashville, and when we found one it was kind of snug but it had to do. I should start this by saying I have kind of a problem trying to parallel park on the right side of the road and it's damn near impossible for me to complete in one turn successfully. This was no different. I ended up about a foot away from the curb and had hit both the cars in front of me and behind me. The entire street seemed to be staring at us so we cut our losses and bailed out when the car was as straight as it was going to get. We were so embarrased, in fact, that we didn't notice that we parked in front of the Mulligan's door and proceeded to walk up and down the street looking for the place. We got there and hung out for a while, the guys meeting us taking a long time to get there due to the parking issue. When they arrived we played some darts for a while. The guy Matt that was there reminded me of a taller, more southern version of Pat (the singer for Scag Rotter) which progressively began to blow my mind more and more throughout the night. We finished a couple games and all decided to walk around Broadway to see if there was anything cool going on. A few bars were stopped into to see the live music available but none of it was any good as it had been primarily pop country. Nick, Paul's other friend that came out, suggested we go back to Mulligan's because a decent Irish style pub rock band was playing later that night. They were pretty good but did some pretty bad covers to satisfy the tourist crowd as there was some kind of event that night bringing them out. No matter how many times I called out for it they wouldn't do a Thin Lizzy cover, so I reverted back to obnoxious heckler mode and started calling for Discharge covers and wishing Brendan was around to get it. After a while hanging out, these two girls clad in black came in and Matt decided to call them over. Much coaxing seemed like it was needed but eventually they did and they were a lot of fun. Some of it, without a doubt, was due to Matt seesawing back and forth between the both of them hoping that one of them would be into his advances. He eventually declared how drunk he was and Nick and him left. Paul and I
spent the rest of the time hanging out with the two girls and some of their friends from the Hard Rock Cafe, one of which looked like a taller version of Eminem. It turns out both of those girls knew Paul's girlfriend which solidified Paul's point that he couldn't flirt with a girl if he wanted to because of his well known girlfriend. All of our goodbyes were said and we went back to Paul's place to crash out.
The next morning (or afternoon) we took a trip to get some food at a local Jack-in-the-Box and stop to check out a pawn shop or maybe the World's Cheapest Adult DVD store but none of them were open as it was a Sunday and apparently they still keep holy the fucking sabbath. Doesn't do dick for me of course, but what can ya do. We chowed down, got back, hung out for a minute, then I packed up and shipped out. Atlanta, GA here I come!
ast the sign saying to take the next exit to get to Dinosaurworld, but not trancelike enough to miss the giant dinosaur after the exit had gone by with a sign chastizing me for missing it. I will never forgive myself for this infraction.Nashville was only about 4 hours from Cincinnati so the trip took a short time to complete. I stopped at the welcoming center on the Tennessee border to get some snacks and see what was so welcoming about it. It really wasn't all that welcoming now that I reflect back on it as a family of four waited for me intently while I finished picking out what I was to get out of the vending machines before even going inside the building. I got my eats and was given a wide girth when I walked out. In the car I chowed down and waited for a call back from Paul to figure out what was going on. He said he had a meeting of sorts so I went to fooBAR (the bar his girlfriend manages) to have a few drinks and wind down from the drive. Upon Paul's arrival we got pizza and decimated it in minutes.
Afterwards we hopped into Paul's '32 Sedan to take a ride downtown so he could show me some of the sights and get me acquainted to the area. It was still in the process of being worked on so it didn't have any windows, save the windshield, but it was nice enough weather. Not to mention, I felt like a total badass riding around in that thing. We found parking downtown somewhere and walked around looking at all the tacky souvenier shops and music stores as well as the millions upon millions of bars with some nondescript country band playing cover tunes in them. I became more acquainted with the bars downtown the following day, as well as the music which was
pretty 50/50 as far as the goods and bads. One of these times which was made clear almost instantly which one it was, was when we got into a venue in East Nashville to see a band Paul had seen on Nashvillepunk.com as well as a burlesque show that was supposed to follow the musical act. What we got upon entry was, inarguably, as sad as it was hilarious. The trio of 30-something year old mall freaker characters up on stage was almost too much to take which lead to our early departure. If you ever get the chance to see the Flashcut Pinups please do. They didn't seem to get past the "we need our rock star clothes to be good" phase of most middle school bands, so they were dressed to tickle you with laughter. Fishnets and Nike running shoes, more fishnets, goofy anime-esque leg warmers, and even a doctor's lab jacket thrown in for good measure. Apparently the two girls in that band were two out of the three girls in the burlesque show, so after hearing that we weren't convinced the 3rd had enough talent to hold it together and we took off during a horrible cover of the Ramones "Pet Sematary".We stopped at a few places more that fail me right now and we eventually decide to just go back to fooBAR and catch whatever band is playing there. They were some kind of grungy alt-rock band where the bug-eyed singer/guitarist wanted to be in Mudhoney while the rest of the band looked more suited for college jam band rock. That being said, they were leagues better than Flashcut Pinups so I enjoyed myself. After that we went downtown again hoping for something better to jump out at us. It (kind of) did in the form of a strip club. A platinum blonde that I had trouble seeing over her fake breasts gave us both flyers that looked like they were printed out on one of those old ribbon printers advertising a joint in Painter's Alley called Brass Stables. I
figured, shit, it's a strip club in Nashville and it's only a few blocks away, let's check it out. We spent some time walking around to find Painter's Alley but to no avail. We asked several people and they said it was right off of the street we were on, and there was a giant neon banner over it, and we couldn't miss it. Miss it we did. We started to feel like we had been had when we had turned around and decided to give up. When walking Paul pointed out to a rather large alley that did, in fact, have a huge fucking neon sign over it with PAINTER'S ALLEY clearly written out. From what he had heard, sometime in the 60's maybe (I don't remember) the Outlaws and the Hell's Angels had an all out gang war in there that got so bad the streets outside the alley ran red with blood.So we saw the place and figured it must be something else entirely as it looked more like, well, not a strip club. It was pretty grimey actually. So we kept walking to see if there possibly was another strip club further up, but no luck. When walking back we weren't too sure if we were going to go in until a portly guy with a big smile came out and said to us: "Hey boys! You like tits?" to which we answered with a confident yes. He told us of the free food, and the alleged nude karaoke, and how gorgeous the dancers were, blah blah blah. We handed him our $15 and went in. The free food seemed kinda shoddy when we got in so neither one of us were too into the idea of eating any of it, and the club atmosphere was pretty grim. An attractive blonde stripper came and sat down in between us after we had taken our seats, said hello, and then proceeded to look miserable without saying a word. Both her hands on her lap. It was awkward to say the least. I asked her how to get a beer there and she said they didn't actually serve beer there, they had to get it across the street and bring it back for you. Upon hearing this I immediately lost the rest of my interest and it seemed that Paul was also not enjoying himself. We left and the fat man at the door didn't look too surprised. "Bye fellas"
When we were walking back to his car it seemed as if we shared the same sentiments. The stench of shame hung heavy in that club and it was hard to shake afterwards. None of the girls liked their jobs, none of them danced like they wanted anyone to see them in public, and they all had a cloud of misery hanging over their heads as if the smallest thing would set them off. All the
patrons were elderly chain smoking old men that had a pathetic hunger in their eyes that had far surpassed having a good time. Paul pointed out that if they had to advertise free food we should have taken that immediately as a red flag. "Shouldn't the face that women are dancing nude for your enjoyment be enough to bring in customers? Free food should be the last of their concerns." I almost (almost) lost my zeal for strip clubs for good, but upon some coaxing I think I could manage another trip to a carefully chosen one.The next morning I wake up from the awesome spare bed loaned out to me and got dressed. Paul's girlfriend's old friend from Texas was in town so we all met him for lunch at this place called Rose Pepper or something along those lines. He's the singer for Hank Williams III metal band Assjack which was kind of cool because I used to be a big fan years ago when they came through town. I guess they were on their way out that night for tour and they were using Nashville as a starting location. Two of their other friends, a tall outspoken redheaded girl and a soft spoken southern gent, came out too. After we all ordered our food I realized I was the only asshole that didn't order an enchilada but it was well worth it as the fajita tray they brought out was stacked up miles high with pure deliciousity. We ate, talked, and parted ways. Upon getting home I sat down for a minue to try and get my body in digestion mode when Paul asks if I'm in the mood to drink a lot of beer. First reaction was I was far from it, but upon further review I decided it was the best thing for me to do. His friends from this band Curbside Saints (one of which I had partied with in Albany in his old band Civil Uprising that I didn't remember until after the fact) were going out so Paul proposed we meet them at this Irish bar Mulligan's.
We spent a long time trying to find parking anywhere as it was a Saturday night in Nashville, and when we found one it was kind of snug but it had to do. I should start this by saying I have kind of a problem trying to parallel park on the right side of the road and it's damn near impossible for me to complete in one turn successfully. This was no different. I ended up about a foot away from the curb and had hit both the cars in front of me and behind me. The entire street seemed to be staring at us so we cut our losses and bailed out when the car was as straight as it was going to get. We were so embarrased, in fact, that we didn't notice that we parked in front of the Mulligan's door and proceeded to walk up and down the street looking for the place. We got there and hung out for a while, the guys meeting us taking a long time to get there due to the parking issue. When they arrived we played some darts for a while. The guy Matt that was there reminded me of a taller, more southern version of Pat (the singer for Scag Rotter) which progressively began to blow my mind more and more throughout the night. We finished a couple games and all decided to walk around Broadway to see if there was anything cool going on. A few bars were stopped into to see the live music available but none of it was any good as it had been primarily pop country. Nick, Paul's other friend that came out, suggested we go back to Mulligan's because a decent Irish style pub rock band was playing later that night. They were pretty good but did some pretty bad covers to satisfy the tourist crowd as there was some kind of event that night bringing them out. No matter how many times I called out for it they wouldn't do a Thin Lizzy cover, so I reverted back to obnoxious heckler mode and started calling for Discharge covers and wishing Brendan was around to get it. After a while hanging out, these two girls clad in black came in and Matt decided to call them over. Much coaxing seemed like it was needed but eventually they did and they were a lot of fun. Some of it, without a doubt, was due to Matt seesawing back and forth between the both of them hoping that one of them would be into his advances. He eventually declared how drunk he was and Nick and him left. Paul and I
spent the rest of the time hanging out with the two girls and some of their friends from the Hard Rock Cafe, one of which looked like a taller version of Eminem. It turns out both of those girls knew Paul's girlfriend which solidified Paul's point that he couldn't flirt with a girl if he wanted to because of his well known girlfriend. All of our goodbyes were said and we went back to Paul's place to crash out.The next morning (or afternoon) we took a trip to get some food at a local Jack-in-the-Box and stop to check out a pawn shop or maybe the World's Cheapest Adult DVD store but none of them were open as it was a Sunday and apparently they still keep holy the fucking sabbath. Doesn't do dick for me of course, but what can ya do. We chowed down, got back, hung out for a minute, then I packed up and shipped out. Atlanta, GA here I come!
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