One in a million. One of a million. We found out in January that the eclipse was on Mandy's birthday. Looking at the path, Nashville was our obvious choice. It's one of our favorite cities and the best party town in the USA. The people, locals and visitors alike, are some of the nicest and most approachable you will ever meet.
Sundays are usually relatively quiet, a time to catch great acts in little bars without the jam of the weekend masses. But not this Sunday. The day before. Without a car, we hit Hattie B's for some hot chicken. The line is a full block long, but we're with someone who's never had it before so we uncharacteristicly decided to endure the wait. About hot chicken... It's a thing here. Don't leave without trying Prince's or Hattie B's, but go to their original locations. 100F and a full hour and a half on the shadeless sidewalk. Mandy got the Medium, which is still hot, and I got the Damn Hot. They don't exaggerate. But it's not just heat. It's a lot of heat, buckets of heat, but not just heat. Crisp, juicy thighs and breasts, breaded and cooked to order. The sides are amazing too. Mandy tried the black eyed pea salad and we all loved it. Perhaps better than the food was the service. In spite of the lines, the heat, the extra hours they stayed open, the entire staff could not have been nicer. Still playful and happy after a very hard day.
Sunday night off to Broadway. It's packed and buzzing. Open any door and there's another spectacular act. Country of course, but rock, pop, bluegrass, twang, jazz, singer/songwriter, blues and much more. We hop to a few places then end up at Layla's to catch Memiss Sue Jones, one of our favorite acts in town. Don't let her petite frame fool you. She's an unapologetic force of pure country and tosses her huge double bass around while she plucks the living hell out of it. Like the hot chicken, Memiss is a thing here. Both part of the local flavor. Both unique to Nashville and either alone is reason enough to come. Don't leave without trying both.
Up early on Monday, the anticipation has become its own character in town. Lots if viewing parties, many sold out. We're hoping for a big field, so we get tickets for the Howl at the Moon music festival, on a farm about 8 miles north east of Vanderbilt. The eclipse day event starts at 6am, and we get there about 9:30. With us, there are a total of eight people in the "crowd". Stay go stay go? The music is good. The food is good. The bar is good. And hey, we're here. Turns out to be a great call. Maybe 150 more people roll in before the eclipse starts.
The event itself was spectacular. TV reports can't do it justice. The strange sci-fi color of the light as it got darker. The drama with the nearby clouds. And of course totality. Literally made us gasp. One of those times you feel lucky to be. But just as important as the event is the sense of shared experience. With everyone. The group of 20 something guys near us. The family with the little kids. The cab driver. Cleansing. Unifying. Makes us all see the kindness, the humility, the humanity we all share.
