Saturday, July 11

Picked up Danielle at Penn Station. She had been in Fredericksburg, Va., for the week and was dying to get back to NYC. I'd like to think that I was the priority, but she was more concerned with taking Revolutionary War tours in Brooklyn. No matter, it was nice to see her. Intended to go to a good cheesesteak place but the one listed on the Internet had closed and even though I had been to the place's new location, I forgot the address. We ended up at Spuntino, on the recommendation of a guy we met in a nearby bar. It wasn't bad as we got calamari, sheep cheese and arugula salad, which was just enough for the both of us. We also imbibed a bit, as it was happy hour. I tried the Brooklyn Lager and it was tasty, and D had a sangria. But it had already been a long day -- I had gotten autographs of the Cincinnati Reds at their Manhattan hotel in the morning and Danielle had been on a train for five hours -- so one drink was enough for each of us. After dinner, I was intent on looking at books at the Strand, which I think might be the best bookstore in the world. But Danielle wanted to first listen to a jazz band that had set up an impromptu jam session in Union Square. They played but one song before they were shooed away by one of New York City's finest. I wanted to stay at the bookstore a while longer but Danielle was exhausted so we left after only a few minutes.

T-T-T-Tennessee

She said

The cabin at Gatlinburg Falls in Tennessee.


Danielle uses the timer function on her camera to get a shot of her with the Smokies behind during a morning walk.


Mark plays with his toys in the hot tub at the cabin. Actually, the toys belonged to nephew Ethan.


The family (Beth, Ethan, Alan) climbs over a small wall to pose for a photo that Mark will take.


Mark takes a photo of his mother, father and nephew at a rest stop in the Smokies.


Mark mimics the face of the pizza-maker in front of a Knoxville restaurant during a night out.


Our feet on a sewer topper in Knoxville.


Mark mimics the guard on a Knoxville night out.


After Mark complained that I never make silly faces in the camera, I had to prove that I do, in fact, do so. So there.


Both Mark and his hair look tired after a day of white-water rafting.


High school friends Adriana, Danielle and Mark lean against the railing at the Apple Barn restaurant in Pigeon Forge, TN.


Adriana covers her spectacled face with her hands. She refused to let me photograph her with her glasses on.


Mark shows his blue pen to the boys in line (waiting for signatures) in front of him at a Tennessee Smokies game. He is a big fan of that pen.


Mark gets a signature (actually two) from Hall of Famer (and Tennessee Smokies manager) Ryne Sandberg during a game against the Chattanooga Lookouts last week. The home team won.


Signed baseballs get a little plastic encasement to protect them from damage ... and other baseball geeks (I mean fans). :)

The dance in Knoxville

He said

I think the tradeoff was fair.

I go to a contra dance (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Contra_dance) with Danielle on Monday night and she goes to a baseballl game with me Tuesday night. If I actually found myself enjoying the dance, well, then that would  just be a bonus.

Considering it was Danielle’s car, I didn’t have much choice.

We left Gatlinburg  at 7:15 p.m. and arrived in Knoxville a few minutes before 8 p.m. We used Mapquest but had trouble finding 1538 Laurel Avenue, the  location of the Laurel Theatre. Danielle  pulled over to  ask two 20-something girls for directions. They had never heard of the theatre but were quick to jump on Google to help. Isn’t the Internet great?

We paid the $7-a-person fee for the three-hour dance, which would be called by Nick Boulet and backed by the Wild Goose Ceili Band. I could see that Danielle was getting excited.  I, however, was getting nervous because I  had no idea what I was in for. I had seen some YouTube clips but was now faced  with the real thing. 

Needless to  say, nerves soon had me in the bathroom, where I couldn’t stop passing gas. I have similar feelings the very first day of a new school  year. My nervousness quickly passed as Nick announced, “Take hands four.” 

I held Danielle’s hand as the other couple faced us, and we were soon being instructed on the night’s first dance. As the dance commenced, I soon realized that I was not  only dancing with Danielle, but with every other  woman there, from the college-aged to the old-aged. All were accommodating to first-timers like me, whether that meant whispering instructions in my ear or pushing me in the right direction. 

Danielle says that the old English -- she cited the movie “Sense and  Sensibility” as an example -- used these dances as a way to  court. One dance called “The Gypsy” -- which ended up being my favorite -- actually had a move in it that required both the man  and woman to flirt with each other by looking into each other’s eyes as they did an almost “Dirty Dancing”-type move. I could  easily seee how some people might  get carried away with this, thinking that  they were being led  on or teased. But this is simply part of the dance.

 It didn’t take long for me to begin feeling the music. But after three dances I decided to sit one out, not realizing how sweaty I had become. Just as I began to get comfortable, I was approached by a woman who wanted me to be her partner for the next dance. This is the  nice thing about going to a contra dance ... the women ALWAYS outnumber the men.

I’m starting to like this contra dance thing.

Danielle recognized a few people from other dances she’s attended. Before we  left, Danielle promised to meeet up with everyone again at the biggest dance  of the year, which was scheduled for the following weekend in Lexington, Ky. Tonight’s dance in Knoxville drew about 30 people, but the Lexington dance, Danielle said, draws close to 300.

For more information on contra dancing in Knoxville, go to http://www.discoveret.org/kcd/.

Georgia to Gatlinburg

While I was getting ready for Day 2 on the road, Mark found his inner artist and practiced a reflective shot in the mirror.


"Success lives here" boasts a sign on a water tower northeast of Atlanta, in Gwinnett County. Another tower read: "Gwinnett is great," but Mark didn't make the shot in time.


A fun sign on the side of the road near Clarkesville, Ga.


A water tower welcomes guests to Clarkesville, Ga.


We pulled into a deserted-looking junk yard, with rusted buildings and lots of dry dirt.


Tallulah Gorge advertises a "free" viewing area, where Mark lounged with other visitors.


Mark was excited to see Nehi soda at the gift shop. "You can't get this anywhere," he said.


A sign tells visitors the gorge is 900-feet deep. Karl Wallenda walked across the gorge in 1970 on a tightrope.


Mark wondered what was inside this plastic container I was holding. It was the toilet paper I kept in my trunk, and I was happy to have it.


Danielle pauses in front of the tourist trap that is Tallulah Gorge.


Danielle checking out the gorge.


Danielle still checking out the gorge.


Mark takes a knee to get a little closer to a fellow visitor to the gorge.


Mark stretches his silly bone as he dangles his upper half from the lookout.


Webb Overlook is in the thick of the Smokey Mountains.


Mark looks intense as he flexes his muscles along a pullout in the Smokies.


A gorgeous scene along the drive.


Mark sits contemplatively near the water.


The creek ran alongside the road.


The definitive shot of the Smokies.


Passing the time in the rocking chairs at Cracker Barrel, Mark gets silly again.


For sale at an antique shop was this portrait of the characters from Mark's favorite television show, The Andy Griffith Show.


Orange flowers dot the side of the road.


She said
Historic 441 afforded us opportunity to sightsee.
Sunday, June 7.

The day began with breakfast and the Atlanta Journal-Constitution at a Georgia institution: Waffle House. After divvying up the paper (sports for him; features for me) and filling up on eggs, biscuits 'n' gravy, and OJ and milk, we hopped back on the highway. We snapped photos of the Atlanta skyline and cruised down a traffic-free I-75. Mark had downloaded MapQuest directions from Georgia to Pigeon Forge and played navigator while I drove. The best part of the journey came when we turned off on historic 441, which brought us through small towns in northern Georgia and Tennessee. “You mean we could have taken 441 all the way from Margate?” I quipped.
The cool thing about taking small roads on a cross-country trip are the bits of Americana that you see along the way. For example, while passing through Demorest, Ga., Mark got excited over a sign advertising the Johnny Mize Athletic Center and Museum. This Hall of Fame baseball player, nicknamed Big Cat, attended Piedmont College, which seemed to be the only institute of higher learning in the town. Mark hoped to learn where exactly in the city Mize grew up, so we stopped at a convenience store for information. Sadly, Mark reported that the woman he asked was “clueless,” and the man he asked was “probably drunk.” We dropped this quest and continued on our way. It would have been nice to have gotten a photo of the Mize road sign, but we did get some others.
Among them were a water tower that welcomed us to Clarkesville and a humourous sign advertising a business: "Scovill: Fasten-ating the world since 1802."
Historic 441 led us next to Tallulah Gorge, which I had visited on my road trip in ‘06. We got some nice photos here of the overlook and of Mark posing next to an old carved man. Mark also got a little silly when he reached out his arms and dangled from the open-air porch that overlooked the gorge.
While Danielle went to the find the restroom, Mark found a little refreshment: a Nehi grape soda. He said it tasted like a grape Sno-cone. He didn’t save any for me, so I can’t attest to that. I can attest to the lack of toilet paper in the bathroom. Luckily, I was a Girl Scout and travel with toilet paper in the trunk of my car. Mark found this amusing and took a photo of me with my stash.
After the gorge, we hit a couple of other tourist traps. Among them was a side-of-the-road antique shop that also sold something I was hoping to buy in Georgia: fresh peaches. The woman at the shop cut off a slice for me and Mark to try. Even though Mark doesn’t like peaches, he agreed the sample was juicy and delicious. I picked up a bagful while Mark found a Michael Connelly novel he’d never read. Not bad for $2.50. Mark also considered buying a black-and-white photo of Andy, Barney and Opie from the Andy Griffith Show but balked at the $10 price tag. Had Don Knotts still been alive, Mark would have bought the photo and sent it to the trio of actors for autographs. ("What good is this photo if I can only get two out of the three autographs," Mark lamented.)
We hopped back on the road, where the lanes seemed to widen and I started driving a bit faster. We had been making a lot of pit stops and thought it might be time to get serious about making it to our destination. But the ice cream gods, it turns out, had another fate in store. We looked at each other as we flew past a creamery. We made the split-second decision to turn around to taste another roadside delicacy.
The shop itself was bare: white walls, hand-written menu, one-size-fits-all milkshakes. Mark quickly decided on a Cookies ‘n‘ Cream shake (“extra thick, please”). I taste-tested two flavors: pralines and cream, and espresso fudge. I couldn’t make up my mind between the two, so I got both.
Here I learned something about Mark. He does not like to be pressured into doing anything. I asked if he wanted to try my ice cream, and he said he didn’t. I — completely enraptured by the taste of my snack — found it inconceivable that anyone would not want to try it. So I asked again only to receive a bark from Mark, who was content to sip on his milkshake, which he claimed contained entire chunks of ice cream. In any account, I still enjoyed my two flavors. Mark would have preferred his favorite, Ritter’s frozen custard in Margate, Fla.
Soon after the ice cream stop, we entered the canopied roads of the Great Smokey Mountains, one of my favorite parts of the country. Families, bikers and road-trippers shared the windy, two-lane road. I admit to wanting to stop at many of the picturesque parking areas; Mark had to reign me in, insisting that we actually had to be somewhere at 5:30 p.m. We did manage to stop at a few places, though. Along the way, Mark (always the deejay) found some music I knew the words to. We sang along to Meatloaf, Queen and the Who as we eased on down the road. I would be remiss if I did not mention the great song from the classic movie Smokey and the Bandit: “We got a long way to go and a short time to get there ...” (Ed note: I could have easily skipped this detail. Mark petitioned for its inclusion.)
We pulled in to Pigeon Forge with about a half-hour to spare before meeting Mark’s family for dinner. We lounged on some rocking chairs outside the Cracker Barrel before driving over to No Way Jose Mexican restaurant to meet the family. I’m looking forward to the next few days of R&R in the Smokies.

- Danielle P

From Florida to Georgia

At right, Mark and Danielle stand outside Tropical Smoothie Cafe in McDonough, Ga.

He Said

Matisyahu is the reason we found ourselves in Live Oak, Fla.

While at the Jewish ingenue's concert last week, Danielle saw a flyer for the Wanee Music Festival and decided that we should stop in Live Oak. On tap were the Allman Brothers, the Doobie Brothers, the Wailers (Bob Marley's backing band) and Jorma Kaukonen, the former guitarist for Jefferson Airplane, who is now with Hot Tuna.

A one-day pass for $50 or $60? Not a bad deal. A one-day pass for $105? A little too expensive. By the time we realized we didn't want to pay that much, we had already parked the car and borrowed bug spray from a couple (Mike and Kathy) and their friend Brian, who were all from Bradenton.

We quickly turned the car around only to be stopped by an overzealous Lake City police officer, who began frantically waving his arms in an attempt to turn us around. It appears we were trying to exit through the  entrance, probably the biggest — and only — infraction he had witnessed that day.

We soon returned to Lake City. Bessie, working the front desk at the Motel 6, was kind enough to refund our $40 after Danielle told her the cost of the tickets.

"Was it $105 for the both of you or $105 apiece?" Bessie asked. "$105 apiece," Danielle replied. 

We were out of the room a few minutes later.

I sat in the car and surfed the Internet using the motel's network as Danielle called her friends in the Atlanta area, where we now decided would be our stop for the night. Using Facebook, we both tried to find phone numbers for those friends who lived in and around the area.

We both grew impatient as we left messages, and friends who had promised places to stay turned down our petitions. "Let's just start driving north and I bet someone will call us back," Danielle decided.

Danielle's bladder caused us to stop just over the Georgia border in Adel (don't ask me why one person has to drink so much water). While in Adel, I began craving a Wendy's Frosty. While we waited in line, Danielle noticed a photo opportunity and asked me to run to the car for my camera. 

The opportunity? One of the employees was dressed from head to toe as Wendy, the young redhead who is the freckly face of the fast-food chain. The woman, wearing a coppery red wig, waved at the camera just after scooping a customer's fries. 

With Frosty in hand, we got back in the car. Danielle passed the boredom of the road by commenting on the sex- and religion-centered billboards common in southern Georgia:

"$TRIPPERS ... need we say more." And this is the Bible Belt? Directly underneath the stripper ad, against a white background in black block letters: "Do something good." Are these meant to be related? A few miles  later, she saw, "Be sure your sin will find you out."

Mark passed the time as the car's deejay, trying to guess the songs in his IPod that Danielle would like. She gave a thumbs-up to four of the first seven, with Mark keeping the tally on a "Pedro offers you his protection" Post-It note. 

She favored the voice of Emily Saliers over Amy Ray's, which Danielle described as "hard" and "violent." Of the Indigo Girls songs that I played, Danielle preferred "Cedar Tree" from the "Rites of Passage" album.

She also found herself humming to the Dave Matthews Band, particularly early stuff such as "A Christmas Song," "Blue Water Baboon Farm," and "I'll Back You Up," which is my favorite.

— Mark