Of course I did not learn my lesson about walking alone. Someone said there was a phenomenal breakfast joint a few blocks away, and by god I was going to go out in the wild and hunt some eggs Benedict. I took my burning, red-rimmed eyeballs and marched four blocks, arriving at an empty restaurant with the door open and no employees or customers anywhere. Waited an awkward minute, then got creeped out and ran away. Arrived back at the Starbucks next to the hotel and found myself in a stream of people wearing the Tennessee Business Person’s uniform of black slacks and greige button-up shirts, all clip-clopping briskly in step, holding identical lattes and pastries. Went back to my room and ate a protein bar. I lost that round.
Worked out in my hotel room and closed my exercise ring by 3am, Hawaii time. Cardiovascular system was very confused about whether it should try to keep up or if we were having a stroke. Ruined a gouache painting in my sketchbook until lunch time.
A list full of Yelp recommendations, and my tired feet trudged me across the street to the seedy diner, instead. Cases full of pie, crooners on the jukebox, truly weird 10-page menu of breakfast and Greek foods, and every customer with burned out holes where their eyes should be. Perfect.
Conference session #1: how to talk some necessary shit to staff and angry patrons without being a weenie (“Crucial Candor”). Fantastic. More swearing librarians.
CAVE TOUR. Bought an ugly, overpriced (but very cozy) souvenir sweatshirt to keep warm in underground. Learned a lot about myself on this adventure.
1. Caves fuck up my brain and cause me to feel like the floor is rising and falling. It was kind of fun, except for feeling like we were all about to die in an earthquake.
2. I am scared of caves.
It was great anyway. The tour guide was a dry-witted high school kid who gave very funny bored-teenager commentary. Loved him.
I have the saddest feeling that you are not going to Rock City. Damn.
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