EMPTY AMERICA: Nashville

From Savannah I had 3 options on where to go next. I suppose any body who’s been going stir crazy in self-quarantine may be thinking: ”What’s the rush?” Well I had been following the news and the situation was getting better (if you watched the press conferences) or worse (if you watched the scientists) so I thought either the world could be let out of it’s cages prematurely at any time or that they may start to shut down interstate travel.


So my 3 options: Head south through Florida and see how Miami is holding up. Head up the East Coast through the Carolinas or pop inside and zig-zag back towards the northeast.


Well, I’ve been to Florida enough in my life and any time you have a chance to avoid Florida during a global pandemic is probably a good idea. The coast was intriguing. Asheville and Charlotte could be interesting. However, if I wanted to see how the virus had stopped the fun, where music and good times and laughing conversation had stopped, where there was no more music, where once-pinnacles and attractions of freedom and celebration had been stopped in its tracks, then I would have to go to Nashville.


I headed northwest back through Atlanta, which normally you would avoid. Atlanta is known as a top 5, maybe a top 3 traffic snarl. Not right now. It’s a breeze. Makes you really appreciate the original idea of having freeways and what they could do for a city.


I took that beautiful drive through Tennessee (for the road-trippers, truly one of the best states to amble through in your car. Don’t rush it) and arrived in dreary Nashville. The weather was damp on the cusp of downpour which would continue for the next week as I headed north and east.


If I was to be shocked by what this virus had done to America, I would have to head to the honky-tanks on Broadway.


I got my car some tender loving service (note to Jiffy Lube: Make sure you have the right transmission fluid on tap before you drain a customer’s then have to go find some at another auto parts store during a pandemic!) and made my way to Broadway.


It was wild. I felt like I’d just missed Judgment Day (or maybe been left behind). If you saw it from afar, you’d think it’s completely open! I can see lights. I hear music. There are cops at either end for your typical Friday night crowd control.


Obviously it was not open and, as you got closer, you started to see the familiar: Chains on doors, sheets of paper in the window announcing their closed either as a form letter or hand-written, homeless people (who I’ve determined shall inherit this earth). But it seemed so alive. Like someone had just plucked the people out. Like I had stumbled upon some grand 5 block surprise party and they were waiting for the guest of honor to show up.


Music was still cranking out of a few loud speakers from some of the honky-tonks that were obviously on some timer to play during opening hours.


Standing at the end of the street, seeing the blinking neon and lack of people, the music just seemed to be a figment of my imagination. Voices from the ghosts of Good Times Past.


Nashville is a city that’s had an awful one-two punch recently as 2 weeks before the pandemic shut down it’s business, a tornado had ripped though East Nashville.


I was in the city and I’d never seen tornado destruction live before. I had to see it, feel it. On the news it’s so detaching to see pictures and videos.


I’ll tell you now: I’m happy I did it. I’ll never do it again. It’s absolutely shocking and sad and maddening. You can see the exact path the funnel took and the destruction it caused and the lives it changed and probably ruined. It’s devastating to see it up close.


Further proof that, when it comes down to food chains and planet domination, Mother Nature still has the final say.