Legal Ganja (and Other Novelties), 9:08 p.m.
After dinner, we came across all sorts of bizarre stuff that I know I’ve certainly never come across in any NYC bodega. I managed to snap a photo of the last remaining “Pickle in a Pouch” (which I guess people are apparently snatching up like gangbusters in the South). In the event you’re looking to relive some of your crunchier college days, the station also had countless packs of Djarums up for grabs. What I was most taken by, however, were the packs of “legal weed” that the owners had on display in a rotating glass case. I wasn’t aware there was such a thing. Am I the last person to know about this? After making a joke about having stumbled upon the “O’Doul’s of kush!” my friend happily reminded me that Dave Chappelle had already beaten me to the punch years ago. Sigh.
Honky Tonk Heaven, 9:33 p.m.
Nashville’s downtown bar scene was nuts. The streets were flooded with country fans that’d flown in for the CMAs, which I learned, after consulting a random cop, are more than just an award show, they’re a crazy series of events and performances extending through the weekend. And this fête was no joke: It was probably every one in a hundred civilians that wasn’t rocking a Stetson.
Lower Broadway felt kind of like a Southern version of the Vegas Strip, but instead of casinos, the flashing neon lights advocated countless live music joints. Each place we rolled into smelt of smoke, booze, and sweat—everything you imagine when you hear some country dude singing about boozing after his no-good woman’s done him dirty. Crowds were cheering and stomping as musicians with questionable hair strummed the shit out of their guitars. It was…kind of awesome.