Another Round, TN 37201

Nashville equals debauchery. We start at one in the afternoon with a marathon of beer and shots. Our beloved bartender, Sammie, hooks us on locally brewed Dos Perros and Yazoo Wheat while we sketch “Manhattan Bitches” on dollars that we add to the mezcla of tacky decorations above the grease trap. Our beer workout makes us ravenous for pounds of fried pickles, pulled pork and brisket. (P.S. Beer workouts are outnumbering our runs at this point.) All the pickles killing our buzz prompt us to shoot innumerous amounts of Jameson next to our 90-year-old friend “Anal,” –I’m not even joking… that’s his name. Conversations flow like Yazoo with our other new friend Scott who gives us a shot of purple stuff… oh God… and we buy another round of Jameson for the closeted-rocker musicians. I drunkenly take notes about our evening that I desperately want to remember such as, “Bridget’s escape pauses at the risk of being groupies…” Translation, anyone? After we visit every bar downtown, another new friend, Jes, drives us to “REAL” Nashville, on the east side where we encounter a wash tub player (a wash tub with a stick coming out of it.) Fiddlers, guitarists, bassists, cellists, and harmonica players are feeding off each others’ musical genius. We exalt their talents and drink more Dos Perros. Cheers, Nashville!