Ready to spend the night in Tenessee with the Christmas Trees
In which we miss the Mystery Hole, get epically lost, and sleep amongst the Christmas trees in Tennessee.
After leaving Akron, we bear southwest in the vain interest of finding a shack in the woods in West Virginia called the Mystery Hole. What we find instead are a shitload of haunted trees, and that neither of us can read a map properly. But it’s okay, because getting lost leads you in interesting directions-like a windowless town obsessed with Charles Dickens. We ate dinner in Lexington, Kentucky at the Sidebar Grill, the most delicious and off-beat diner you can possibly imagine (whiteboard wisdom: you can never have too many fingers in the dyke.) where everyone, young and old, hip and hep, is happy to watch anti-climatic college basketball court storming while eating house-made salt and vinegar kettle chips. Travelling tip: if you’re not in your own country, don’t put two dollars in the honesty parking box. Traffic tickets don’t count here-like bad choices.
At 3 in the morning, we found ourselves in Tennessee. Barn-storming past Nashville at lightning speed, we decided to find somewhere to sleep. We drove around a well-appointed Nashville suburb, and wound up a hill.
“Haley! Stop here! We shall sleep in this empty lot!”
“Paul, this isn’t an empty lot. This is where they sell Christmas trees.”
And so, we slept among the Christmas trees wrapped in heavy duty MEC sleeping bags and woven blankets from South America, waking up with nipped noses to the delicious smell of burning pine needles, and waved enthusiastically back on our way by two jolly Christmas tree salesman cheering and giving us the thumbs up.
Sidebar Cafe in Lexington, KY: Happiest place on earth