The Aerie
Back when I was born, the boys club that was the medical profession had decided that birth was clearly nothing to be experienced by women, so when my birthmother delivered me she did so while drugged into insensibility.
Given that I was busy learning how to breathe, I was a little too distracted to pay attention to what was going on as I was whisked away.
It took me thirty years or so to find her again, and while that has been very nice I've never had a chance to be with my birthmother on my actual birthday. So this year, being unemployed, this is the year. We're going to drive down to visit her in Pigeon Forge, Tennesee.
Now, this all seemed like a good idea until I started looking for places to stay... and stumbled across this web page. Warning - it has an attached 500K file in case you are on dialup
Now, it's bad enough that Pigeon Forge is the home of Dollywood. And that my birthmother lives in a, er, well, let's just say "tornado magnet." And this is the Deep South, the Great Smoky Mountains of Tennesee. I'm up for all that.
But after listening to the song attached to that crazy-ass webpage, I'm not sure this is all such a good idea. I mean, anyplace that would stick a song that kitschy on their website exists on a whole different plane of tacky that I've ever encountered. And, doubtless, that's actually the 'best of its breed' for songs of that type, too...
Hopefully this is not a sign of other things to expect in Pigeon Forge, Tennesee... I bet the rest of Pigeon Forge shows style, class, and panache...
Posted by Albatross at July 25, 2005 11:42 PM