It would have been easy for me to sink into a bit of a funk yesterday afternoon. Exhausted after what seemed like days of driving, I found myself wandering around a beautiful college campus with my daughter and her friend. Surrounded by fresh faced youth in sun dresses and pretty sandals, I trudged along in sensible ugly shoes that your average grandmother wouldn't wear out in public. Top that off with the email from a long forgotten dating site offering up a match -- a 55 year old man looking for women between the ages of 34 and 45 -- and let's just say it's a good thing I don't own a gun.
But sun dresses and fresh youthful faces and pretty sandals on bunion free feet notwithstanding, I had arrived in Nashville, a place filled with impossibly friendly people and an unfathomable helping of genuine good cheer. It's hard to believe these people are for real -- and I mean that in a good way. Maybe it's the overabundance of warmth and sunlight.
Soon after we settled into our hotel room, I called the front desk to tell them our shower wouldn't drain. "Oh nooooo," the woman who sounded as if she was prepubescent drawled. "Would it be all right if we sent maintenance up right away?" I was ashamed of myself; my immediate inclination was to respond with a snotty no, I'd prefer that you wait until next Tuesday, but thankfully I had the good sense to suppress it. She was not kidding. In two short sentences she had conveyed genuine concern, a genuine intent to help, and a politeness beyond anything I could fathom -- asking me if immediately was soon enough. I wanted to wrap this woman up and take her home with me, have her at my beck and call whenever some minor indignity was about to send me into a tailspin.
And she wasn't kidding about "right away." Don, the maintenance man, showed up within seconds, apologizing profusely about our shower issue and asking when we might be gone so he could pour in some stinky drain cleaner and not offend us with the odor. We actually passed him in the hallway on our way out, and he gave us vouchers for free breakfast, just because we couldn't shower. He didn't even seem to notice my sensible ugly shoes. And when we returned, we found some chocolate hammers on our pillows and notes apologizing yet again for the inconvenience. Seriously, out of this world.
So we were thinking life was pretty good in this place called Nashville as the three of us settled into bed with our Ben & Jerry's and decided to splurge on a movie. The television set warned us repeatedly that once we were charged we were charged, so we were a little dismayed when the charge went through and it turned out there was no sound. I called my friend at the front desk. Same woman, same drawl. "Oh nooooooooo!" The volume issue was apparently even more tragic than the standing water in the tub. "May I send an engineer right up?" An engineer? Wow! This place was ready for any emergency. I told her that would be wonderful.
Within seconds, Don (yes, Don, the maintenance man) showed up. We had left the door ajar for him so we wouldn't have to get out of bed in case it took a while for the engineer to arrive. Don seemed to not think it strange at all that the three of us were lying in bed with the covers pulled up to our chins while he fiddled with our remote. As if by magic, Don, the maintenance man turned engineer filled our room with the happy sound of a pay for view movie, and was quickly on his way, apologizing once more for any inconvenience and assuring us he would be close by should anything else go wrong. I had no doubt.
Top this off with all the other folks we've chatted with on the street and in restaurants, and the people in the lobby this morning who apologized to me when I had to wait for the coffee bar to open (at its normal time) and then refused to accept money from me for my grande coffee, and I really do feel as if I have traveled abroad. Maybe I have. Occasionally, I check the stats on my blog page to see who's reading. Well, I can't exactly see who, but I can see from where, at least by country. I get a kick out of it, and a bit of a warm and fuzzy on days when Japan shows up and I imagine my son taking a few minutes to catch up on my odd musings. There are a few steady readers in Saudi Arabia, and India, France, and the Ukraine are often well represented. A couple of weeks ago, a new country appeared: Jersey.
Seriously, Jersey. One reader, listed that particular day right after Singapore. Jersey has never seemed all that exotic to me, and I have crossed over to its shores many times without needing a passport. But I suppose some Americans might consider the state and its people to be a bit foreign, especially after getting to know Snooki and her crowd. I understand it now, how diverse our country can be, and I wouldn't be at all surprised to see Nashville listed as a country one day on my blog site. Or somewhere.
I am more than ready for day two in this southern paradise, a place where folks smile at you and like to see you smile back, where nobody seems to hold it against you that you're a woman in your mid-fifties and your feet hurt and you wear ugly and sensible shoes. I considered emailing the guy on the dating site, telling him the only sexy thing about him is the house he claims to own in Malibu. But really, why bother. I might just call Don the maintenance man turned engineer, Don the Renaissance man. Get myself a little bit of southern comfort.
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