I am writing this post from the balcony of a cabin in Sevierville, TN-home of Dollywood, black bears, and all varieties of pricey, country crap. I'm drinking coffee from the one cup I found in the cabinets while Frank snoozes in an oversized bed made of logs--the early bird get the hazelnut cream. When this blog will get posted God-only-knows since I have zero internet access. By the way, If you are an opportunist who has visions of robbing my home while I'm gone...good luck. The man housesitting for us served time for murder and would do it again under the right circumstances. No, I am not joking...but the cats like him and he's very tidy. This is not a standard vacation. It's more of a working trip. While here, Frank the Heating and Air Extraordinaire must fix some duct damage done by squirrels; I must write a Halloween murder mystery; and on the way home we have to stop in Knoxville to perform an intervention. So, on this Flashback Friday, I return in my mind to a simpler time when we came to Gatlinberg to celebrate Frank's fortieth birthday.
Oh, the fun and adventures! That weekend, we decided to go on the Mushroom Diet. Though most of it is a glorious blur of Go-Kart Tracks, sawmill gravy, and sex, there I one event that sticks in my mind with clarity: the Mirror Maze. And just like it's name, it caused confusion and reflection...but not for the reasons you might think. Here are the questions and answers it spurned.
First Question: Who in the hell, after a weekend of eating nothing but deep-fried food, really wants to pay to look at themselves from every angle?
Frank, and me by association. He has heard that it is “trippy and really hard.” We pay the $14.50 or whatever ridiculous price it is. I enter. He's lolligagging behind talking to some tourist from Arkansas. I run through the maze at breakneck speed, never even skimming against the glass, and exit before he has stepped foot in the attraction.
Frank: Damn, how did you find your way through so fast?
Me: Easy, just avoided the sugary hand prints.
Me: Allow me... (I take him inside and show him all of the pint-sized prints at crotch level)...the mirrors have those. The clear paths don't.
Question Two: Who the hell puts a candy store at the front of a mirror maze?
Yes, the vestibule was filled with bins of gummy critters, jelly beans, caramel swirls, and the like. Munchkins gorged themselves while their parents paid, and then went through the maze putting their sticky little paws on everything.
Frank: Well, that kind of ruins it for everybody. I wonder why the clerk doesn't clean it?
When we exit again, we get our answer. Standing there, mouth full, elbow deep in Hot Tamales was the woman who happily took our $14.50.
Final Question: Who in the hell puts a chubby chic with a sweet tooth in charge of a candy store at the front of a Mirror Maze?
Sharing All I KNOW about the fine art of voluptuating. here's to living the lush life.