Flying into Nashville

The sun was setting as the plane dipped down toward Nashville. My stomach is in knots, partly because I’m excited to be spending the next two weeks songwriting in music city, partly because I’m nervous for the same reason, and partly because I’m hungry. As the plane lands and pulls into the terminal, I say a thousand Hail Marys for my guitar, which had to be checked with the regular luggage since American doesn’t do fragile. It survives unscathed.

The taxi driver has no idea where I’m heading, so (god forbid) he uses the GPS to get us there. Once we get off the freeways, he drives through rolling hills and valleys where huge houses are surrounded by enormous properties and under canopies of old trees. I start guessing that the wealthy country artists are hunkered down out here.

I’m staying in a suite in one of those houses—very beautiful but not quite as opulent as some of the expansive estates. The suite is reserved for Canadian songwriters working in Nashville, in the home of Lee Anne and Daryl Burgess, and the whole thing is arranged by SOCAN. When I see this quaint little apartment, nestled away in a rustic getaway, I’m totally impressed and amazed and begin right away to make myself at home. This is it for the next two weeks.

Before I even unpack my suitcase, I get directions to the nearest grocer and head out to do some exploring. My car is here and I’m relying on the GPS (Gerty), who is totally confused by these winding roads and removed neighborhood. Eventually, she finds her way, though my driving is erratic and I wave apologetically at most the folks behind or in front.

This is the moment I love most about launching into a new city. When the apprehension and alienation of being somewhere foreign gives way to the delight of discovering a cool neighborhood, a great café, a bizarre market. I need to get some groceries, and I find a hip market not far away. Totally great food! As I’m examining the organic produce and fingering weird new labels, deciding what to try, I notice the groovy young folks meandering the aisles—lots of couples out buying groceries. During these domestic chores and delightful discoveries, my lover’s absence is glaring.

I walk out to the parking lot and the air is moist and warm. It’s dark and the moon is full. I may miss my lover, but I don’t feel alone. I’m not ready to go back to the suite yet, so I call on Gerty to find the legendary Bluebird Café for me. In the car, I turn up the music, crack open a bag of carrots, and take to the streets. But in less than 5 minutes, I easily discover the café and another section of town that is remarkably close to where I’m staying! I’m delighted to find that I’m so close to the action. I get out and walk the streets a bit, mostly because the night is mild, and the moon is full, and the fact that I’m in Nashville is so very intoxicating.