For as long as I can remember, we have taken family vacations. We have never flown, we always drive. Mom and dad have taken solo trips where they have flown, but as a group, we never fly. The group is me, my mom and dad, my brother and my now 9 year old niece. As we live in central NC, this usually means no trips further than a day’s drive away. The furthest we’ve gone is Orlando twice; once when I was a kid and once as an adult to take my niece.
The usual trip we take is to Myrtle Beach; cheap, easy, 2 hours away, comfortable. In past years, as it’s turned out, I’ve only been able to take half-vacations. As I have planned my own solo-vacations without the family and I only get a certain number of vacation hours a year, I sometimes show up halfway through the week or leave halfway through. It’s not usually a big deal because 7 days in a 2 bedroom condo with the 4 people who know you best and can rile your anger more than anyone, can be rough sometimes. 9 out of 10 trips in the past few years have lead us to South Carolina.
Once, randomly, in a fit of spontaneity and randomness, my dad decided we would go to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. This is a trip I’ve taken many, many times in my life, as my parents are both from the mountains, and Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge is a standard mountain people trip. Specifically this was June 2007. I only know this as the mad and drug addled treasure hunt I lead my brother through downtown Gatlinburg with me to find a store selling a copy of the new release “Icky Thump.”
First off, I most remember it being the hottest June of my life. I have no idea why it would be so hot in the Appalachian Mountains in mid June. We took my niece to Dollywood and Dixie stampede. Total white trash fest, but it was fun(ish). Lots of outlet shopping and overpriced meals, as per usual. At the time I was driving my 98 civic, which was teetering on the edge. I decided to rent a car to make the 5 hour drive from Raleigh to Gatlinburg. I rented a Dodge Avenger, which after driving the dying civic for so long, seemed like a luxury car to me. One problem, I forgot to bring any sort of music along with me. My brother had his PSP with him and I was forced to endure his scant and bizarre music collection for the trip up. I complain, but it wasn’t too bad. I have taught him well. But I knew there was going to be a problem getting home. I had to find something to listen to on the way back, as I was leaving mid-week and wouldn’t have this distraction. All I knew was Icky Thump was coming out that week, if I could find a target or something, I could buy it. I forgot one tiny bit of information. This was freaking Gatlinburg Tennessee. No targets, no nothings. I literally had to break out the phone book to find a “record store”. Apparently there was one on the strip downtown.
Later on evening, after everyone had settled down, Kyle and I decided to have an adventure.
I’m not proud to admit it in a public forum (sure I am) but copious amounts of marijuana was involved. We smoked and weaved our way downtown. We walked for hours the wrong way down the street to later find the store was one block over in the opposite direction from which we parked. The story that happened after we found the record store (and I bought the cd) is family legend. Mostly between my brother, my niece and I. (drug edit for the niece, of course.) it’s one of those stories that get brought up randomly that result in more and more details popping out that make the story that much more ridiculous.
To the best of my current recollection, here is what happened.
We decided we were hungry (read: munchies). We found a Wendy’s. We ordered our food and sat down. One would assume most Wendy’s would be non-secular. This Wendy’s, however, was covered entirely on one wall with huge paper cutouts of Jesus propaganda. My brother and I notice this at the same time. We were high. I turn to Kyle and give him one of these:
We then proceeded to laugh to the point of tears. Kyle, at this point either as a result of or very soon after proceeded to rise up on one leg and cut an epic muffin. One of the loudest public farts I’ve ever heard in my life. We were, somehow and irrelevantly, surrounded by Mexican families. They gave us one of these:
At this point we laugh so hard Kyle falls out of a chair, decides to just stand up and walk out. I just sat there and finished my burger as calmly as I could. The next thing I remember is a full grown man riding by on a miniature motorcycle. It all goes blank after that.
I left a day or so later to head back to Raleigh and get back to work while the rest of the family stayed on. when I hear this song (whole album really) I think about this trip, but when I hear this song specifically I think about driving I40 through the mountains and feeling vaguely nostalgic and proud of my weird mountain family.
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