The Five People You Meet In Nashville on a Saturday Night

Have you ever read the book 'The Five People You Meet in Heaven'?  Well, I haven't either, but I Wikipedia-ed it so I'm practically an expert on it by now.  The book is about an older man who dies while trying to save a girl from being crushed by an amusement park ride.  He wakes up only to find that he died in the process.  He meets different people in Heaven that he either made an impact on, or that made an impact on him.  Each person taught him a lesson, such as all lives are connected or that love lives on after death.

This blog entry is based off of the book in a play on the title alone.  No one dies, you really don't learn any lessons from the people I'll describe (even though I am going to attempt to find one), and you probably hope to forget them (or actually do forget them) by the end of the night.

This past Saturday night was one of the most fun nights I have ever experienced in Nashville.  You know, one of  those nights when all the stars align, the music is good, you don't get annoyed with people not respecting your personal space, and you are surrounded by fun people that you love being around.  Myself and two girlfriends started out the night by going to the downtown art crawl.  C's friend is the manager of one of the galleries so we went to see her space and a couple of others.  I walk by these places several times a week while I run my downtown errands, but I had never actually been inside of them.  Although I don't know much (or anything) about art, I had a great time.  We saw this really cool guitar made completely out of crayons, which we decided we could probably make ourselves...but not really.  I also spent a lot of time comparing art in one gallery to Lord Voldemort, because it was all creepy and made me sad.  We went to C's friend's gallery, were made happy by the brightly colored art pieces (no, we are nowhere close to being art experts), and decided to go find some dinner.

Seeing that it was Saturday night, tons of places had ridiculously long wait times.  No, I will not wait 1.5 hours for a side salad and a crab cake, thank you very much.  Thankfully, Cabana in Hillsboro Village could take us right away so we drove there, met up with our super friendly and enthusiastic valet Colby (complete sarcasm...you would have thought we told him his favorite goldfish died when we pulled up) and didn't talk to eachother for six minutes while we contemplated what to order.  We girls are serious about our food.

So at Cabana came the first encounter with one of The Five People You Meet in Nashville on a Saturday Night (heretofore called The Five).  I have always wanted to use heretofore in a sentence.  I feel like I should be writing this on a scroll in fancy script for a guy with tights to decree to the awaiting public.  I'm off track.

The Bachelorette party:  I swear, every cabana at Cabana had a bachelorette party.  They were full of (way too) little black dress wearing bridesmaids and the bride in white.  Which it's a good thing she was wearing white, otherwise I would have never figured out which one was getting married.  I mean, the blinking tiara, blinking BRIDE button, the fake pink veil, and the sash didn't give it away...at all.  I have no problem with bachelorette parties.  I hope to be one at least once...although mine will be way more awesome and be at Keeneland.  But, I do have a problem with my Saturday night dinner being interrupted by a very bad and loud rendition of 'I Want It That Way' by the Backstreet Boys.  I'm talking, standing up on the booths, hand motions, singing into their forks with passion singing.  At first it was amusing, then it became sad, then it became oh-my-God-when-are-they-going-to-shut-the-eff-up.  When they started their version of 'I've Got Friends in Low Places' that was our cue to leave. 
Lesson:  Save the karaoke for Lonnie's. 

The Old Guy Trying to Relive His Youth:  Always a Nashville staple.  This is the guy that comes to the bar, usually with another older guy, and stands directly in front of the bartenders so if anyone wants a drink they have to talk to them.  Denim on denim is usually involved as well.  They flirt with the girls, shoot longing looks at the guys, envious of their youth and stamina, and drink Budweiser like it is going out of style.  They also usually take up chairs that would be better suited for girls wearing heels so they could rest their feet, but whatever.  Chances are, if you come back next Saturday, you'll see the same two guys there, starting at 7 p.m. so no one steals their seat.
Lesson:  I'm all for Ferris Buellar's mantra of  'Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it,' but if you could go look around somewhere else that would be great.

The Wedding Party: Possibly my favorite group of downtown visitors because they are almost always a blast to befriend and hang out with. So you went to your friend's wedding and they cut off the open bar. You want to keep the party going, so what do you do, but head to Paradise Park in your shitty bridesmaid's dress you were never going to wear again anyway and order a drink. The groomsmen loosen their ties and take off their coats and they are ready to dance. They are full from the wedding buffet (hey, if you have to buy them a toaster oven then you sure as hell are going to get your fill of cake and buffet!), have pregamed with (possibly) fine champagne, wine and top shelf bourbon, and are now ready to class it down with some Natty Lite. They're in a great mood because all of the people who were upsest about not being married at the wedding reception went back to the hotel to cry in their hotel rooms and raid the mini bar, so only the fun ones remain. This past Saturday a bride and groom even joined their wedding party for some downtown debauchery. I can think of other things they could have been doing, but it was their wedding day and damn it they wanted to dance to Wagon Wheel!
Lesson: Pay attention to the title: Wedding Party. It's not Wedding Ensemble, or Wedding Entourage, it's Wedding Party. So, party.

The Obviously There to Hook Up Guy/Girl:  You know them, you see them every weekend.  The girl has her boobs out, stomach sucked in, and glitter in her eye...or rather, she is wearing glitter eye makeup that she is determined to get all over some guy's sheets that night.  You can see the look of panic cross her face at last call when she hasn't found anyone worthy of taking her home yet.  So, she goes to the bar, gets enough shots to make her forget her dignity, and latches onto a guy within five minutes, after the alcohol has had time to kick in.  They disappear into a fog of cigarette smoke and sloppy kisses, off to do whatever it is these people do.  The Obviously There to Hook Up Guy is a little different.  First of all, he's in much more comfortable clothing than the girls.  Likely he is there with his friends, watching their prey, figuring out which girl is the most succeptible to his charm/bar tab.  Their peak mating time is at last call, because they figure a girl would rather go home with him than no one, and they are totally cool with that.  So, they buy the girls at the bar drinks, count to 119, and off they go to the cab line.  Sure, it can be awkward in the morning/a few hours later when the girl realizes he did not, in fact, look just like Matt Damon, but more like that Minkus kid from Boy Meets World. 
Lesson:  You go-getter attitude is something to be admired...just make sure you don't take something away from the experience that reoccurs every 4-6 weeks.

The Annoyed Bartender:  I've always said, if I could have one superpower it would be to read the mind of a bartender (I have never said that.)  I bet they can be judgemental and super bitchy...and that is why I would like to be friends with them.  They have seen it all.  The bachelorettes who want pink shots no matter what is in them (which usually isn't much alcohol), the old guys who flirt with them every weekend, thinking that THIS might be the weekend they have a shot (they don't), and the obviously there to hook up guys/girls.  They've probably seen beauty queens go home with trolls, and handsome men go home with a poor girl who looks like she fell into a gutter (and she might have).  I could never be a bartender.  I couldn't keep my mouth shut.  It's in my nature to tell people what I think, so I would have a hard time not telling someone who is about to go home with another person they have no business even talking to, to examine their choices.  Or, in 3 a.m. bar speak, "This person's initials are probably S.T.D."  I admire people that can do it, and I'm sure it makes for a lot of great stories to tell to your friends, but I don't think I would last very long.
Lesson:  Never piss off a bartender.


So there you have The Five People You Meet in Nashville on a Saturday Night.  I'm sure I left some people out but the book only mentioned five people, so I was limited.  Until next time, friends!