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I rounded off my 4-city tour of Tennessee in Knoxville and Nashville. Knoxville is a beautiful scenic town nestled in the rolling hills that become the Great Smoky Mountains. My hosts, Kelli and Paula, were loving partners who liked to take on projects and then finish them. Their current project: remodeling the bathroom. They took me to a speakeasy, known as the Peter Kern Library to the locals. Situated in the back of a dark alley and marked with a red light but no sign, there’s really no way to know what the name of the place is. The consensus, though, is that the bar is named the Peter Kern Library because it used to be the library of Peter Kern, a local politician and businessman from the late 1800′s. The bar is small, quiet, pricey and classy. The menus were hidden inside encyclopedias to match the scene. Many of the creatively-named cocktails sounded delicious, and we all passed around our selections so everyone could have a taste of each. My favorite was some sort of watermelon jolly rancher vodka drink.

Kelli and I talked about life, love, religion and all those good things that none of us understand. We visited the sunsphere, a big golden sphere perched upon a tower that served as the center of the 1982 World’s Fair. Aside from that and nearly killing myself riding a bike through the punishing hills of knoxville, I didn’t do a whole lot in Knoxville.

Nashville, on the other hand, I figured should be a treasure trove of fun activities. My host, an intelligent enthusiast of everything named Nathan, picked me up and took me on a short walk through Vanderbilt and the parthenon.
“Well, that’s all there is to do in Nashville,” he said confidently. That’s a shame. Luckily, he offered to take me around to a few more places the next day when my brother, Scott, got into town. Scott’s moving to Indiana, and we planned to meet in Nashville on the way.

The next day, he took us to a few hot spots like the Grand Ole Opry, the unnecessarily extravagant Gaylord Opry Hotel, and a really cheap steakhouse. I explained to him that I was on a tight budget, and he said it wouldn’t be a problem. While waiting in the endless line to get a table, Scott and I decided to take a short walk around downtown. We ran into a… I don’t know what the hell it was, actually. Some kind of marathon where you have to drink a beer at every checkpoint. Apparently, you also have to wear something ridiculous and dance on a stage half naked while people either cheer or boo. Even the homeless came out to celebrate the occasion. But we didn’t have enough time to participate. A table at Demos’ Steakhouse was waiting for us. Scott and I shared an enormous and reasonably tasty meal for $3.50 each. We were stuffed, and thoroughly satisfied by the price.

Last but not least, Nathan took us to the honky tonk district where every building is a bar blaring with live country music. The live music scene really gives cities like Austin and New Orleans a run for their money, except it was mostly country. Still, I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed country music that much. Nathan’s brother didn’t seem to agree, though, as he kept headphones in his ears the whole time.

Great downtowns in both cities. Good times continue.

As action packed as our first day was, it didn’t compare to the second day. I can’t even remember what I did during the day, because that was overshadowed by the evening. First, Marty took me to the Aquarium. I wouldn’t have normally gone to the aquarium since we have one in Houston, but he had a free pass. It’s been a while, and I’d forgotten how much I love aquariums. They had penguins. Penguins, I tell you! Marty’s phone was almost out of batteries and he was waiting for an important call, so I hopped from room to room as he followed me and sat by an outlet in the corner. After a couple of hours in the aquarium, he took me to a minor league baseball game. We watched the Chattanooga Lookouts play a few innings, ate some stadium food, and enjoyed the view of the mountains in the background. It was a good game and the weather was beautiful, but we couldn’t stay for the entire game because we were going flying.

Wait… what? Yeah, flying. Marty has a pilot’s license and can fly single engine planes. He’d made reservations for us to fly out of the main airport at 9:30pm. I was nervous, until I saw the plane. Then I was terrified. It had one propeller in the front, like a child’s toy, and nothing else. The plane was literally my height. I had to duck when walking under the wings. There were two seats enclosed in a space not much bigger than a coffin, conveniently. We climbed into the tiny capsule and pulled out of the hangar. Marty told me that the plane had less than 100 horse power. If that means nothing to you, then consider this: it has less power than a snow mobile.

“Time to turn on the AC,” he said, the turned the key setting the propeller into motion, blowing air into our faces like a tornado. I buckled up in a harness and placed the headphones over my ears. The deafening sound of the propeller was muffled, and Marty’s voice was suddenly in my ears.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he assured me. At that moment, the plane lunged forward and stopped short. I grabbed the ceiling, because that seemed the most logical thing to do.
“Whoops, I stepped on the accelerator,” he said. He then proceded to give me a safety lesson. “Most importantly, do not pull this.”
“What is it?”
“Do not pull it.”
“But what is it?”
“If you pull it, it’ll release a parachute from the top of the plane. Do not pull it. Unless I’m unconscious.”
“Wait, why would you be unconscious?”
“If I’m unconscious, pull this lever all the way back, then turn the engine off. Then you can pull it.”
At that point, I was thoroughly freaked out. Then the plane lunged forward again, and I grabbed the ceiling.
“Whoops!”

The air traffic controllers were in my ears, saying a lot of things I didn’t understand, with some rogers and some overs sprinkled in. I gathered that we had permission to go.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. He then hit the gas and we were in the air before I even had a chance to open my mouth. During takeoff, it felt as though we were in a little box being dangled from a string, not like a normal takeoff. Once we were steady in the air, though, I was able to relax for a second. Really, just a second.

“Is that lightning?” his voice asked. In every direction, lightning flashed like a flickering light bulb. Sometimes there were giant streaks reaching from the sky to the ground, but mostly it flashed dully and constantly.
“Is it dangerous?” I asked.
“We won’t be up here long. Don’t worry, the tower got struck by lightning 3 times in the last month but no planes have had any trouble.”
This didn’t comfort me, but I eventually relaxed enough to look around and enjoy the panoramic view of the city at night. He and the air traffic controller in my ears were both so professional and calm. Most importantly, they did a good job of keeping me alive. Seeing a flight from the pilot’s perspective was a treat. Really a unique experience, and I won’t soon forget it.

After poor planning on my part, as usual, I found myself looking for a last minute host in Atlanta. That brought me to Mitchell, a 20-something new couchsurfer and fantastic host. He and his friend, Daniel, took me all around Atlanta, with a lot of conversation and card playing thrown in the mix. They taught me how to play a game called sequence, and I taught them how to play VC. If you don’t know how to play VC, (aka vietnamese cards, big two, tien len, 13, etc), then you should learn. Shortly after teaching them how to play, I proceeded to get my ass kicked. Just trying to be a nice guest, of course. We went to a liquor store called Hop City that had a bunch of beers on tap, and bought a few jugs of locals brews for that night. We’d be having dinner with his two other guests, a French couple. They made a delicious baked tilapia in fruits and vegetables complimented with couscous. I brought a jug of brew man fu. That makes us even, right?

We spent the evening singing, eating, drinking, and generally being merry. That night, we went to the Drunk Unicorn to see Daniel’s friend’s band play. They were pretty entertaining, and the venue was small and intimate. So small and intimate, in fact, that the Frenchies stuffed paper towels in their ears to try to muffle some of the sound. It was kind of loud. This was probably my favorite night of the trip so far. Good times.

They took me around a bit the next day, too. We had tea at Bombay Underwater Tea, and it was something tasty. The walls were lined with $1 books that I would have loaded up on if I didn’t have to carry everything on my back. I met up with Rebecca, another CSer, at Piedmont Park for a free concert. She’s was a great tour guide, but more importantly great company. We met up with another German CSer, Nina, and enjoyed the beauty of the park before grabbing some brews and listening to Eddie Bush sing his heart out and play some nasty guitar. Nasty in a good way, you know. She also took me to get the best hot dog I’ve ever had, which is not surprising because she’s apparently a hot dog connoisseur. How good can a hot dog be, you ask? That’s a valid question. It was pretty good. But we met up again the next day, after I had a Bible lesson, and had the absolute best hamburger I’ve ever had or will ever have. If you’re ever in Atlanta, you need to have a hamburger and fries from The Porter Beer Bar. It’s in an area called Little Five Points that reminds me a lot of Austin. The cooks here are chefs. They do amazing things with bread, potatoes, and cows. Here’s a picture that won’t do any justice:

We walked around town, passed by MLK’s house & burial place, then said bye at the bus stop. I really loved Atlanta, and plan to stay there for at least a night on the way back. Next stop, Chattanooga.

One of my favorite places in Memphis was Earnestine and Hazel’s. What is Earnestine and Hazel’s, you ask? It’s not just a dilapidated building that serves small but delicious “soul burgers.” It’s a building more than a century old, worked by cooks who are nearly as old and full of stories about the building’s history. It’s a restaurant full of the warmest and most welcoming people you’ve met in a while. It’s been home to the likes of Elvis and Ray Charles. It’s also a former brothel and supposedly haunted. Walking into Earnestine and Hazel’s is almost like walking into an abandoned building that someone decided to turn into a business, and that’s just the way it’s supposed to be. You’re treated to a tasty meal that leaves you wanting seconds, but are too preoccupied with conversation and tours of the upstairs, which was very obviously a brothel: a hallway with half a dozen bedrooms attached. Needless to say, I loved everything about it.
The next stop was Birmingham. The highlight of Birmingham had to be my host, Crystal. I really didn’t do a lot in Birmingham. I went to the Civil Rights Museum there, which was a bit of a letdown, and walked through Kelly Ingram Park, famous as the spot where the police attacked Civil Rights activists with fire hoses and dogs. I also walked through the McWane Science Center, where Crystal works. It was mainly for kids, but I loved the place. I must’ve spent half an hour in front of a giant octopus. I don’t know how people eat those things. Crystal’s husband, Fred, hosted me on my last day there and was really welcoming even though he didn’t expect to be hosting anyone.
I got to my bus out of Birmingham with literally 2 minutes to spare, because I had gotten confused about the time and ended up having to wake up Crystal for a ride to the bus rather than walk. Whoops!

As a side note, I listen to a song for every city I go to. Usually the song came from that city or refers to it. I also listen to songs on the bus that make me think of traveling and road trips: “on the road again,” “homeward bound,” “the wheels on the bus go round and round.” That sort of thing. The moment I got on the bus for Birmingham, I thought of a song that my mom used to sing to me. It’s an American folk classic, and you should know it if you don’t. Even after leaving Birmingham for Atlanta, the song is still in my head. For your listening pleasure:

So how is this possible?

A big part of it is dumb luck. Last summer when I was flying to China, Delta wound up having to give $600 vouchers to about 20 people on the plane, myself included. I used these vouchers to get flights Houston-Memphis and Detroit-St. John’s. The most exciting part, though, is a discount bus company I recently heard of from a girl who I drove from Florida to Louisiana. It’s called Megabus. Write that name down.

Megabus services the eastern half of the US, plus some cities in Canada and the UK. Unlike the Greyhound, Megabus offers outlets at your seats and wifi, supposedly. They don’t have any brick and mortar bus terminals (or the employees that go with them), which allows the company to cut down on costs. That, plus the fact that their buses are double deckers and can hold a lot more customers than your average bus, means lower prices for me and you. For every bus trip, the company offers a small amount of cheap tickets starting at $1. Once those $1 seats are gone, they release $2 seats. Then $4, $8, etc until prices become more reasonable. Supposedly, ticket prices also dip a little as the date approaches to try to fill the bus. Overall, the average price for a ticket is something around $20 but, if you can buy them early, you can get $1 tickets without much trouble.

I created a little map of their routes to help plan out possible itineraries, because I’m a nerd. I’m all for traveling off the cuff with no plans, but you can’t do that if you want to travel for $1 on Megabus. Unfortunately for Houstonians, Megabus doesn’t yet service our city and the closest hub is New Orleans. If you’re on the eastern half of the country, though, I recommend you check it out. I can’t speak for the quality of service because I haven’t used them yet, but you can’t beat the price. My last trip from Gainesville to New Orleans was an entire day of driving, filling up gas and putting miles on my car. It could’ve been a $2.50 trip with a leisurely stop in Atlanta if I’d known about Megabus then. I won’t be driving anymore if I can help it!