L-R, front row: Ladypep, Fancyduckk, Wrldtrvlr, Jeanbaby, Raymond_36
Back row: Bonehed
Friday, 24 April 1998 -- Arrival, Gatlinburg, TN
I left my home in Mt. Vernon, VA at 9:00 AM, after a mad dash to get everything packed, for both hotel and camping. After taking my cat Thomas for yet another stay at the Kennel, I proceeded directly out of the Metro Washington, DC traffic on I-66 west, then headed down the broad Shenandoah Valley on I-81, which I followed for nearly 400 miles. I drove all day, in a "gotta-get-there" push, to the Pigeon Forge exit, in Tennessee. I enjoyed getting to kick up the speed control to 70 after all that time doing 65 in Virginia. Tennessee’s all right by me. Arizona’s better at 75, though.
After passing through the miles of anything-goes carnival atmosphere in the Sevierville-Pigeon Forge stretch (I’m not getting on any of those rides any day soon), I drove the last bit of road up into the hills and Gatlinburg itself. I made quick note of the Rocky Waters Motor Inn, the meeting’s headquarters, as I found my way to my last-minute accommodations at the Howard Johnson. I was all set to stay in a high-up, luxury room at the Park Vista Hotel, until their desk called and politely advised me on Wednesday the 22nd that "1500 teens" would be joining me at the Hotel, and that they’d re-book me. Well, I had no choice. HoJo’s it was.
I got in to my room at 6:30 PM, and had a message from Jeanbaby (hereinafter, "Ms. Jean") that I should call her upon arrival at Rm. 217, Rocky Waters. I made the call, just as she and others were heading to dinner. I explained that I had just driven 495 miles in one day and was NOT going to be with them. So I crashed out for a few, then drove on down to see if they were back, taking the Explorer across the temporary one-lane bridge over the Pigeon River that led to the Motor Inn parking area. I knocked on the 217 door, waited around, thinking I would be arrested for loitering, and left, at about 8:30 PM.
So I started going to bed, thinking I’d find them Saturday morning. Note my disloyalty in favor of sleep; I’m an early-riser. Then, at about 9:15 PM, I get a call from Firefrost, telling me there was a shortage of men at Ms. Jean’s room and to hurry on down. I complained that I was settling in, but she sounded urgent. So I put my driving clothes back on, told Mr. Sandman to beat it, and hoped I’d be all right, driving still more at the end of this long day. I fought my way through the gridlocked mess that is downtown Gatlinburg on a good-weather weekend evening, noting that any pedestrian, especially in a Cross Walk, had absolute right of way.
I got back to 217 and found a number of Regs with Ms. Jean--Debra & Gonzo, Firefrost & Firelt, Bonehed, Ms. Reggie (standing by the now infamous Doorknob to the patio), and Webbie. I hung about this scene for some time, getting my fill of all these suddenly-revealed real life appearances. I made good on my promise to give Ms. Jean my unused Gateway 2000 mousepad, for her growing collection of "cow-stuff". At about 11:00 PM, I was really fearing for my driving safety, and since others were heading out, I made my break and got back to my solitary room.
Saturday, 25 April 1998 -- Meeting up some more
After making use of the continental breakfast at Howard Johnson’s (while one of those "teens" sat in MY chair at the Park Vista restaurant), I met back up with Ms. Jean and some of the others outside the Rocky Waters. We walked up the Parkway, along the strip, into town to find breakfast. This was about the time everyone realized that because of their tendencies towards misbehavior, they needed the regular guidance of a "Mom", a role graciously and capably assumed by Ms. Jean. Webbie, in particular, was in constant need of discipline. With how she was acting up, I really became concerned that our event was being crashed by a teen from one of those other rooms. She said her old man was there, but I never saw him. Now I had long ago cyber-adopted Ms. Jean as my "big sister", so she let me be the "eccentric uncle". These bonds of family became strengthened as we sat around two tables at Shoney’s to eat their down-home breakfast, at about 11:00 AM.
People split up after this. A bunch got in a car and drove back down to Pigeon Forge to check out some of the attractions there. I was just plain beat, and so was Ms. Jean, so I went to hang out in her room. She even let me borrow a spot on her king-sized bed to rest my weary bones, bless her heart! Ms. Jean, I assure you, became more of a Lady in my eyes that day. While I was resting up in 217, we were greeted by Wrldtrvlr, who had no room as of yet. Gossip it is, I suppose, but Ms. Jean was more than happy to share some of her extra space for the night, in that room by the river.
After this arrangement got worked out, I drove back to my room and slept a good piece. At 6:30 PM, according to instructions forwarded me by Ms. Jean on the phone, I was to meet up with the others at the Peddler restaurant, conveniently across the street from my room. That was the good part about being at HoJo’s. . .I could walk everywhere downtown. We had about 12 - 15 Regs at a long table at the Peddler, with "Mom" barking out orders here and there to keep quiet in that wonderful accent of hers. I found myself wanting so much to talk that way, but Ms. Jean said I did it miserably and that I should use my Yankee accent. The Peddler gets its name from the way a person orders a steak, their specialty. A young chef (or prep cook, maybe), called the "peddler" wanders about the table with the raw sub-primal cuts of rib-eye and NY strip, letting you select exactly what piece of said flesh you would like him to cut for you that evening. High symbolism there.
After we finished eating, around 8:30 PM, I headed off down the Parkway, through the great reveling crowds of Saturday Night in a resort town, to Blaine’s Bar & Grill. I was by my usual lonesome, undergoing bouts of existential angst while others were living it up. I got to the bar before the rest and hung around the entrance. About 10 people finally arrived from dinner, with the intention of dancing in the 2nd floor lounge area. I ordered an O’Doul’s and sat there, but was not having the greatest time, especially with the smoke (this cigar stuff better quit soon). This nearly killed me in Las Vegas, as I recalled. So with a good health excuse at hand, I left at around 9:30 PM and walked back to my room, acquiring a pair of locally-made pottery oil candles as souvenirs on the way at one of the many, many, MANY shops. It was a hard night of little sleep. Way too much excitement, y’all.
Sunday, 26 April 1998 -- Heading for the Mountains
I woke up on time to be back at Ms. Jean’s HQ, room 217 of the Rocky Waters. I hung around there with Wrld and Bonehed, I believe, standing out on the balcony watching Ms. Jean talk in her sweet mother’s voice to the squirrels running about by the water’s edge. I then got in my truck and followed her around town, on our way to find some Sunday brunch. We were looking for other chatters, but I can’t remember who. We kept stopping at the motel where they were supposed to be. My memory isn’t so hot here. I do seem to recall Ladypep being along on this trip. One day, I’ll start learning to remember people better than places. We finally settled down to eat at the Cracker Barrel in Pigeon Forge, where Ms. Jean, without warning, mind you, made off with a couple of my big salad croutons, since she ordered a mess of breakfast and didn’t get any. The conversation, for some reason, went to hog husbandry and sausage manufacture. There is symbolism in this, too, I would think.
So, finally, we had to say farewell. There were about 7 of us
among the rocking chairs for sale on the porch of the Cracker Barrel, in
various forms of group and individual hugs. Bonehed was talking of
getting another meeting going in Austin, Texas, for October 1998.
Now, I’ve never been to Texas. This is under serious consideration.
We went our separate ways that afternoon, and I pointed my Explorer, loaded
up with equipment, to the mountains we had seen above us the entire weekend.
Monday, 27 April 1998 -- Toughing things out [TN]
Tuesday, 28 April 1998 -- Over the top [TN - NC]
Wednesday, 29 April 1998 -- A direct shot home [NC - VA]
I then camped 2 nights in my nylon Eureka tent at 2150 feet elevation, at the Elkmont Campground, Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I was completely alone by the campfire both nights, in a contemplative Thoreau-at-Walden-Pond fantasy. Actually, it was a stream, but close enough. It rained 2 inches in 2 hours on the second day, a weekday, so my lack of camping neighbors was no mystery. But for a time, I loved the misery; the lack of shower facilities and hot water; the rain coming through the tent walls. Make no mistake. It taught me about being human and thus, limited. On Tuesday, 28 April, I loaded the truck early, packing all my stuff in a very wet state, and drove US-441 up the winding road, in and out of fog, towards the New Found Gap, elevation 5048 ft., which was in the thick fog and at 40 degrees Fahrenheit. Not a place you’d stay long--but it did have a restroom. I then downshifted the truck and rode the North Carolina hills into the adjoining Cherokee Indian lands. There, I made my mandatory stop at the brand new (Nov 1997) casino. It was all video machines, including the slots, which would hurt my eyes fast, I think. I was playing dollar slots, so I could get going again soon. A chatter of some repute, NOT at this meet, has gotten me around enough casinos to get me to the point of playing dollar slots, from her repeated western tours (YOU know who you are...). I then drove out through Asheville and into the great Piedmont, to my last night’s stay, the Embassy Suites in Raleigh. Good thing the campground had a pay phone so I could call ahead from the reservations number in my Day-Timer, which even goes with me into a tent. My first act when I got to the hotel was to take a shower, needless to say, and I cleaned my dirt-encrusted camping flip flops in the bathtub. What a mess. I left the housekeeper a big tip. I slept another fitful short night in my "suite", then got the free "made to order" breakfast down in the atrium chow-hall, sitting among many on-business visitors to the Raleigh-Durham Triangle area. I loaded everything back into the truck and drove fairly steadily, the 270 miles back to home. I was struck by the wildflower planting projects along the NC and VA roads. Total distance, 1135 miles. 6 days, 5 nights. A most memorable getaway.