taco bell 7 layers, not so much because i was seeking a burrito, but because it was the only vegetarian option in smalltown mississippi, which runs on fried chicken. poor life choice. i am cured of the fast food burrito - they just don't compare.
dear middle-aged white lady at the next table: you make white-lady chair dancing and knowing all the words to "word up" and "play that funky music" a future worth aspiring to. i hope the next two decades are just as kind to me.
this shit is like disneyland for old people! there is so much history and culture here, but it's all bound up in glitzy hilarity and covered in booze. beale street is what bourbon street should be: live music and beers aplenty, only the average age is 20 years older and way more chill. doom ate the best fried chicken of his life, and has been lapsing in and out of a pleasure coma ever since. the civil rights museum was astounding, overwhelming, and very very humbling. paid tribute to my dad at the gibson guitar factory, then went on a musical history tour of sun records, stax records, and graceland - all meccas in their own right. graceland might be the greatest place on earth. acquired an irreparably flat tire on the way out of town, but otherwise laetitia's done us proud.
music city USA is much like memphis, but all country. it felt like whiter version of the same world, especially because we arrived right in time for the CMA festival. perhaps this is where cracker barrel acquired its name? met up with a friend from edmonton, who greeted us with the spiciest fried catfish known to humankind. saw fireflies for the first time and danced with them like a child. downed some local brews, hit third man records, then back on the road to bonnaroo.
burrito the thirteenth:
a breakfast huevos rancheros burrito from a killer coffee shop called fido in nashville's u district.