Gatlinburg and the Road to Breaking Bad (mood, that is)

So what does it take to bring me down from a tripping high?  Young children, loaded up on sugar, playing in the streets of Gatlinburg at 10:30 PM.  Apparently, I had booked a room in downtown Irresponsible Parenting.  

Okay, okay--I wasn't going to let it bother me, but then, it seems, these wild younguns had pushed every restaurant employee in town to their limits.  I tried three restaurants…you heard me, three…and I could not get anyone to even

offer a menu to me.  And yes, these places were still supposedly serving.  But each time my eyes met the eyes of a server, I saw deep and dark despair.  I finally hunted down a place just off the main drag, the Smoky Mountain Brewery, and voila!  Food!

My server, Adam, was kind and helpful despite the visible exhaustion of which he was suffering.  Do these restaurants never give their employees breaks?  Adam recommended the reuben, and now I will forward that along, because he was my hero of the evening, and I think it was the sandwich that catapulted him to the top.  After packing up half the sandwich for another day, I moseyed my way back to my room, where I dreamed of mountains and bears…

…and woke up with The Face.  The Face that

causes students to cower in fear.  The Face that turns people away, recognizing that I wish no bother, no contact, no communication; I had awakened in a Bad Mood.

While those who understand me may simply walk away or perhaps, compliment me with the hope that I will soften, my grandson responded quite surprisingly when he encountered The Face.  "Ma'amaw," he giggled, "you look evil!"  Ahhh, he found the secret to unlocking my soul.  But he was not there, so my mood continued.

Rather than venture into the madness of buzzing, free-spirited children downtown, I packed up and hurriedly prepared to drive…alone…away from this place.

I turned to my navigator, entered the address of my next confirmed host, ignored the routes offered, and simply selected "go."  Had I learned nothing from my son?!

Initially, the drive was similar to the previous day's journey--winding roads with inspiring views which I caught with my camera.

  

And then the road changed--no more lines on the highway, no signs warning of sudden turns or hidden driveways.

Cool, I thought; I love my navigator.

I began to smile...just a little bit...

And then I spotted oncoming traffic...

Okay...I'm feeling this road wherever it may lead.  But then, I was navigated to this little gem:

Hmmmm…..Shall I continue or turn back?  Hell, I lived in Georgia for years; I can handle a gravel road.  I shall forge ahead.

After a few hairpin turns, and seeing that the road had suddenly become quite smaller, (what if someone is coming head on?), I glanced down to see how much farther I would continue in this manner…uhhh…several miles.  Once again, I thought of my options.  Back up?  On this road?  No way!  I did not want to end up wedged in the trees on the mountainside.

Besides, I had done this before.  Michael, remember the Virgin Islands?  Driving straight up one side of the mountain (except for the hairpins) before careening down the other side?  And what about those dirt passes we traveled in New Mexico--the ones for horses--and us in a big SUV, one inch separating forward movement from crashing to our deaths?

I could do this.

But I couldn't take anymore pictures.  I was focused.

As I headed up and up, turning into a hairpin, my car lost traction, sliding on the gravel.  And my sweet Prius covered me, as I saw the flashing dashboard light tell me that she had my back.

Soon, I approached a kind Virginian, and as he moved out of my way, I signaled for him to stop.  

"Sir, am I going to ever hit a paved road?" I queried.

"Well, sure…once you get to the top of the mountain," he drawled, mouth full of tobacco, politely refraining from spitting.

"How far?"

"You got some miles to go, but uhhh, where you headed?" He seemed puzzled.  

"Kentucky.  Sir, is this road safe?  Is it passable?"  

He laughed nervously, warning me of a hairpin ahead, "It's gonna' look like you go straight, but don't.  You gotta turn or you'll be in trouble."

Oh yay!  I thanked him, and as I pulled away I heard him yell, "Be careful!"

So I was.

My navigator actually turned me onto other gravel roads, deeper and deeper into the forest, climbing higher and higher into the unknown.  What could I do, except drive?  So I drove until I finally hit a paved road...began the journey down the mountain, and finally saw a sign letting me know where I had been...

The satellite radio kicked back in to screaming rock and roll…and I laughed.  The Face was gone.