
Welcome to Smashville, Tennessee
December 26, 2009
As a consolation prize for being stranded far, far away from our planned Christmas vacation destination, The Coach anted up a good bit of money to buy us some NHL tickets for the day after Christmas. As you may have guessed from other blog entries, The Coach loves just about any sport. The Coach has even kissed the ice and taken a bobsled run in Lake Placid (circa Christmas 2006).
Hell, even our favorite films are sports related. The Replacements, anyone?
So, Saturday afternoon, we headed out for “Smashville” to see the Predators play the Blackhawks. And, of course, the Predators lost, but that’s getting a bit ahead of myself. We drove and drove, saw no snow, and ended up stuck in a nice little traffic jam before getting to the event parking at the AT&T building located near the Ryman Auditorium. We waded through bunches of Wildcat and Tiger fans (their bowl game was scheduled for Sunday), bought CDs at the Ernest Tubb Record Shop, and wandered through a t-shirt shop hoping to find Predators shirts to wear to the game. No luck there, although The Coach kept pointing out confederate flag items that we could send to TQE. {Don’t worry, I waved him off!}
Eventually, we went to stand in line outside of the Sommet Center. As we came to find out, the doors don’t open until 1 hour before game time, so we just stood around for 15 minutes people watching and taking bad pictures of ourselves. When we finally got into the building, we claimed our free program and backpacks (courtesy of Bridgestone tires) and headed for the Pro Shop to look at shirts.
This is where the night got a little rough for me. First, I just don’t see how a t-shirt can sell for $42 (whaaaa) and, second, I am way too short to be stuck in the back corner of the store with no means of escape. Although we eventually found cheaper gear (a shirt for me, a hat for The Coach), I had to worm my way out of the store because it was simply too crowded. Claustrophobia anyone?
So, I stood outside the store, playing around on Facebook, waiting for The Coach to emerge with our gear. When he finally did appear, we headed towards our seats in the “All-Inclusive Zone.” Yes, my husband — bless his little heart — paid almost top dollar to sit in the area that included free food, beer and wine. {Top dollar would have been $250/person for a table top in the bar area, but that is a little too rich for my blood.} I stripped off my sweater, threw on my new t-shirt over my nice warm UnderArmour shirt, and added a stocking cap. Yeah, we still didn’t match everyone in the section. Apparently real Predators fans aren’t above paying tons of money for jerseys to outfit the whole family!
I have to admit that when we bought the “all-inclusive” tickets, I was expecting hot dogs, nachos and beer … and not much else. You can imagine my surprise when we walked into a fairly decent buffet. Sure, there were hot dogs, but the menu also included roast beef, green beans, yams, pastas, pulled pork, salmon mousse, a massive cheese selection, and numerous desserts. As for the beer, well, Bud Light must be the official sponsor of the Predators or something.
We ate, went down to our seats in time to see the mascot descend from the ceiling, and listen to some famous recording artist (that we had never heard of before) sing the National Anthem. Sometime during the first period, the Blackhawks scored, then the Predators scored, then The Coach abandoned me for the more comfortable seats in the bar. I joined him during the third period when it was obvious that the Predators were going to get their butts kicked. {Sigh}

One of many faceoffs
Predators vs. Blackhawks
Final Thought: I don’t know how the Liquid Ice girls can stand the cold in those skimpy ass outfits. Hell, it made me shiver just to look at them, and I covered from head to toe with warm clothes! I hope they have a heated room somewhere between cheerleading sets.
Originally Posted: December 28, 2009


Aside from making it impossible to get a scaffolding-free picture of the front of the mansion, we didn’t have too many problems. Plus, as you can tell from the picture to the left, the site could use a little TLC. That the problem with wood in the humid south — it tends to rot and it’s a pain in the behind to keep paint on it.
Of course, the last thing we saw at The Hermitage was the sign designating it a “certified historic site” on the Trail of Tears National Historic Trail. Ah, Sarah Vowell, we could have used your commentary while standing there, mouths open, laughing at the irony of it all.





