Southern Comfort

Beagle Man (on Friday’s afternoon’s drive along I-40 East with Matt, closing in on Asheville, NC):  Hey, since our dinner reservation isn’t till 8:30 tonight, I think I’ll use the downtime to do some catching up and to write a blog post.

Matt:  Sounds good.

The next moment, a text arrives for both Matt and Beagle Man from Patrick, Matt’s father-in-law, who had arrived in Asheville earlier in the day:  Am downstairs at Wicked Weed [local brewery]. The tab is started.

Hank:  Hmm. .   I guess I won’t be posting today after all.

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And so it goes with life on the road.  Priorities.  Sometimes writing has to take a back seat to tasting a stein or two of Bump Cap

Pilsener.  So here I am posting today, Sunday, instead.  Though if I’d had just a little more road warrior stamina, I could have written Saturday morning at 5:18, when the fire alarm sounded at the Aloft in Asheville and the entire hotel was forced to evacuate.  (Learned later vandals bashed in the line in the sprinkler system with a baseball bat.)  I sketch out my post today with some trepidation: You read Robby’s post on Tuesday.  Then Matt’s on Wednesday.  Whew.  Tough acts to follow.  And I get to try to match their millennial brilliance with my old-school “and-then-I-did-this-and-then-I-did-that” travel writing style.  But what can I say?  My public has a need to know about what the Beagle Man is up to on the road — and I’m not gonna disappoint.

Matt and I kicked off the Southeast portion of the journey by flying into Little Rock Wednesday night.  From that point on, travel on the Birthday Tour has been, and will continue to be, exclusively by car, as I return to my true road trip roots.  Little Rock made the itinerary solely so Matt could knock off his 47th state.  (Now only Nebraska, South Dakota, and Alaska remain.)  We arrived in Arkansas’ capital in time for a late dinner at Samantha’s Tap Room & Wood Grill.  Though we spent less than 24 hours in Little Rock, we’re pretty damn sure we hit the coolest restaurant in town.  Our super-cool (and lovely and charming) bar tender, Natalie, recommended the Rock City Bourbon, which was the absolute spot-on thing after a long day of travel.  She also recommended the Spicy, Smokey & Sweet — called it the “redneck cheeseboard” — and it was perfecto.

Since she was so cool, we figured she was the right person to ask about breakfast the next morning.  Without hesitation (we liked that: there was never any indecision in her reco’s) she said: the Root Cafe.  So of course we went to the Root on Thursday morning.  And it was as good as billed.  And cool.  Coolest breakfast spot in Little Rock, we’re pretty damn sure of that.  Closed out our Rock City visit with a spin through the William J. Clinton Library and Museum.  We were able to do a walk-through of an exact, to-the-millimeter, replica of the oval office — exactly as it was when Bill occupied it.  Very cool.

With Arkansas checked off, we headed to Nashville.  Didn’t need any reco’s for my home-away-from-home: This would be my eighth visit to Music City.  We added a dash of southern spice as we crossed the mighty Mississippi into Tennessee with a lunch stopover at B.B. King’s Blues Club on Beale Street in Memphis.  Pulled pork with B.B.’s special sauce.  Later on, a classic Music City evening: Dinner with live music by talented newcomer Jacob Frish at Puckett’s on Church, then more live

music at the Legends honky tonk.  Even got my request for “Drink in My Hand” (my fave country song, which doubles as my ring tone) played by the Becki McLeod Band — and they played it loud and proud.

Next stop Asheville NC, scene of Matt and Alison’s wedding just a year-and-a-half ago, and a family reunion with Carol, Alison, Terry, and Patrick (Matt’s in-laws), with the aforementioned beers at Wicked Weed and a celebratory dinner at Benne on Eagle, where

nobody had the oxtail. (Sorry, private joke.)  Matt and I had once again made good use of our lunch break en route to A-ville, with a quick stop in Knoxville for a peek at Rocky Top (that’s Neyland Stadium, for nit-pickers), the fifth-largest stadium in the world and home to Peyton Manning 1994 through 1997, followed by a steamed Italian sub at Gus’s Good Times Deli, a trusty UT campus hangout.

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And now, for my legions of fans who’ve been hounding me day and night to back track to the stops I didn’t get around to covering earlier in the trip: Okay, okay . . .

Indianapolis:  Indy, just a stone’s throw from Louisville where we closed out the Bourbon Trail, cracked the itinerary (like Little Rock) basically so Matt could knock off another state on his quest for a sweep of all 50.  Also, his Dolphins happened to be playing the hometown Colts at Lucas Field on this particular Sunday.  We showed up at Champp’s sports bar on W. Maryland Street 45 minutes before the really important matchup, in the world according to Beagle Man: Jets vs Giants.  (The New York Post dubbed this one the “Game of the Weak.”)  Hey, someone would have to win, and happily for me it turned out to be the Jets — the start of a momentous two-game win streak they’re still riding as I write.  Our server, G, brought his A-game, making up, to some degree, for the dumb-ass manager who failed to turn the 1 o’clock matchups on till well into the first quarter, causing me to miss Sam Darnold diving in for a Jets touchdown — something that doesn’t happen every day.  Was the manager not aware that it was Sunday?  Could he not tell time?  Did he think all these guys in Colts jerseys and Dolphins jerseys and whatever had come to his sports bar for the culinary delights?  Jeez!  This should be a felony.  In fact, sports bars should be federally regulated, and whichever candidate pledges to get this done has my vote.

After this joyous occasion, we walked the short distance to Lucas Oil Field.  The venue was impressive — though I was quite disappointed that on a mild, 62-degree day, they had the retractable roof closed.  Wussies.  Unfathomably, the Dolphins hung on in a nail biter to beat heavily favored Indiana.  Jets win!  Dolphins win!  On the same day!  This last happened in Revolutionary times, and is likely to happen again in, oh . . . maybe 200 years.

Btw, if Matt and I missed anything more important than football in Indy, blame it on The New York Times.  They ran their “36 Hours in Indianapolis” feature on Sunday, November 16 — exactly one week after Matt and I passed through.

St. Louis:  When I’d dropped Matt off at the airport in Indy, the temp was in the mid-60s.  By the time I’d pulled into the

parking lot at my hotel in St. Louis four hours later, it had dropped to the mid-teens (see “Snow in St. Loo”).  That stretch of solo driving, with Ms. Waze cooing to me as I merged onto I-40 West, “Continue straight for one hour, 42 minutes,” carried me back, for the first time on LA/XC-6, to that free-bird road trip feeling of adventure.  Cruising through Indiana-Illinois-Missouri on my own, iPod blaring, enjoying as much “visual A.D.D.” (Carol’s term) as I want, going just as fast or as slow as I want.  That’s how I like to roll.  The only thing missing is a furry little doggy riding shotgun.

Shortly after my late-afternoon arrival, I rendezvous with my long-lost second cousin Peter (aka “Mr. St. Louis Chamber of Commerce”), for a quick-and-dirty tour of some of his favorite spots.  And let me tell you, for a transplanted Lower East Sider, this dude has a lot of favorite spots.

We start off by heading to “Art Hill” in Forest Park (three times the size of Central Park, Cuz tells me*), where we planted ourselves in front of the majestic columns of the St. Louis Museum of Art and looked down at the Grand Basin.  This was our number one stop because of the surprise snowstorm:  Peter had told me that every year, when the first snow falls, there’s a sledding extravaganza on Art Hill, with the whole city turning out.*  On this night, there were three sledders.  I felt bad for Cuz, who seemed a bit deflated.

Later that night, and also the next morning, Peter tour-guided me through the Gateway Arch (which from directly underneath looks mucho impressive, and not just like a Mickey D’s arch), the funky-historic Laclebe’s Landing area, with its view of Big Muddy, and the old Union Station.  (Another Peter Fun Fact:  There was more traffic through St. Loo’s Union Station in 1900 than there is in the city’s international airport today.*)

But the attractions my cousin showed me with the most pride and gusto were the edible ones. First up:  Imo’s Pizza, “the Square Beyond Compare,” with its co-star, toasted ravioli (“toasted ravs,” in local parlance).  Just one hour later, we somehow managed

to stuff ourselves again:  Since I’d had the good fortune to arrive on Peter and Heidi’s son Aidan’s 14th birthday, I got to share in their family tradition of dinner at the Chili’s in Kirkwood.  We topped it off with frozen custard from Ted Drewes, another St. Louis institution.  Peter had told me “Be ready to wait in line — the place is usually packed”* — but we got right up to the window and ordered.  There was no one else there.  The only thing we didn’t have time for — and Peter was heart-broken — was ribs at Pappy’s Smokehouse.  Next time, Cuz.  And thanks for the fantastic whirlwind tour!

* You might want to fact-check all my cousin’s fun facts.  Just sayin’ . . .  🙂 

Albuquerque:  I’m just gonna piggy-back on Robby’s review:  If you like

the color brown, you’ll really like Albuquerque.  I did take two tours — the ABQ Trolley Co.’s Best of ABQ City Tour in the morning, and an Old Town walking tour in the afternoon.  The morning tour covered every part of the city, including five prominent locations from Breaking Bad, which I got a kick out of, even though I dropped out of the series midway through Season Two.  The afternoon tour, though — the so-called walking tour?  We started out at Old Town Plaza, where Spanish Governor Cuervo y Valdes officially founded Albuquerque in 1706 — and we didn’t even make it completely around the Square!  We spent an hour-and-a-half in that one plaza!  Walking tour my _ _ _.  Standing-still Lecture Tour, more like.

Well all righty, then.  We’re caught up.  Maybe all those pesky followers will finally leave me in peace . . .

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Last night the Beagle Man Birthday Tour rocked on with a four-hour concert featuring my very favorite country sweetheart Miranda Lambert, along with fellow all-stars Maren Morris, Ashley McBryde, and the Pistol Annies — Grammy nominees all — at the Greensboro Coliseum.  Memorable show.  Great vibes and chemistry.  Absolutely A+.

And now, off to Kickback Jack’s sports bar in Greensboro to see my J-E-T-S keep that historic win streak alive!  Am hoping the manager there knows today is Sunday.

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