america day III: a new hope in nashville
Saturday morning at 12:01 a.m., my (invisible) plane touched down in Nashville and America/Americana Day III began.
Cava is always involved with America Day celebrations (see America Day I and America Day II), and a cork soon popped at the apartment; Stewart, John, Ben, Michael, and I toasted to the revelries ahead:
Then, there was Mothership Wit on draft at the Riverfront Tavern, and stellar huckleberry vodka that led to some of us not waking as gloriously as the tulips,
that waved near the Noshville diner, where Lady Liberty waited on the roof (you can see her in the distance above), whole pickles unnerved us on the table, and the server wanted to take part in America Day.
Stewart and I both ordered the ‘We Dare Ya’ breakfast, a dare we lost to pancakes the size of flying saucers,
and afterwards, we began incorporating all the elements of country music songs: reverence, wine, and Baby Jesus,
a nice day for (any kind of) a white wedding,
casually perplexing proposals (I found a large ring with a white stone that we needed to fold into the America Day narrative and Wonder Woman costume—so, this is the America Day where Wonder Woman becomes engaged to a hot Nashville musician).
Michael analyzed what Wonder Woman’s ideal wedding gown would look like in reference to cupcakes,
Ben disappeared to find coffee (which should be a country song),
new leaves heralded Spring,
and dogwoods bloomed in front of the Nashville Parthenon, where this scholarly group was bound.
I circled Stewart, John, and Ben with my Lariat of Truth,
before deciding to lasso a saxophone player instead,
and in this place of learning, we noted that really all of America rests upon what’s written on the bench:
We drove to East Nashville’s Hip Zipper vintage,
discovered I Dream of Weenie was closed and our weenery dreams were to be unfulfilled,
so we bought scratch tickets at a gas station and headed toward Cowboy fashion on Broadway.
As is America Day tradition, Ben met a bachelorette,
Stewart lit a cigarette (seriously, how gorgeous is my Facebook husband? Note the vehicle in the background) while John stood by in a very serious black cowboy hat,
Ben evaluated Michael’s boot choices,
I liked the boots I was wearing,
that prompted this wonderful Linda Carter story from a sales clerk.
We were welcomed in American Apparel,
Ben Superman and Michael contemplated truly blue jeans,
though I liked the lettering on Hatch Print Shop posters more.
We five decided B. B. King’s was appropriately American, taking the long walk back to Section D,
extending the pickle motif with fried pickle chips and horseradish sauce along with Blues Brew.
I ordered a Porktato (yes, I take implicit menu dares as well, and I think a Tofutato would also be great),
before the boys gave each other direction in matching sweatbands,
and we headed out for an American dance party at Mad Donna’s,
with Michael reminding us that Girls Just Wanna Have Fun across the street at Lipstick Lounge,
and we suffered through terrible karaoke before returning to Riverfront Tavern in America Day stripes by Ryan (at left) and plaid (Matt, to the right of John).
Ben was reunited with his bachelorette,
and there was more of that lovely huckleberry vodka.
The next morning, we brunched in the sunlight at Mad Donna’s,
with Michael’s French toast swimming in double doses of syrup and caramel,
and Ben’s unusual, colorful Cap’n Crunchberry French toast serving as a metaphor for our merry Day encrusted with bright flecks of Americana.
As this fantastic four dropped me at the airport, I glanced back with love—I will meet them anywhere for next year’s America Day IV (Chicago? New York? Los Angeles? Where do you think?)—
and we do hope that those of you that couldn’t join us this year will rejoin us or experience the magic of America Day for the first time next year…
View the entire Flickr set with additional photos and videos here.