Dallas, TX to Knoxville, TN
So, either Tennessee has put all its best scenery along I-40, like a bad production staff putting the greatest lines of a movie in the trailer, or Tennessee is truly and actually paradise. I can't decide. Purely from the breathtaking visuals, I have to wonder why those of my ancestors who lived in Tennessee ever left this home of beauty to reside in Texas. Much as I love the state of my birth... it just doesn't compare. Even the postcards don't do this place justice, OK?
Here's the facts. I'd already been planning since Monday, July 31st to move to Oak Ridge by the end of the month of August. If nothing else, I got impatient, and events led to my purchasing a bus ticket Wednesday night August 9th. Thursday morning August 10th at 12:05 am CDT I boarded a Greyhound bus in Dallas, TX. With layovers or pit stops in Sulphur Springs TX, Prescott AR, Little Rock AR, Memphis TN, Jackson TN, Nashville TN, Cookeville TN, Crossville TN, I stepped off the bus at approximately 6:15 pm EDT here in Knoxville, TN. My dear friends Jay, Marcus, and Jeremy were there at the bus station waiting for me. I'll be coming back to Texas to get the rest of my things, but I am already pretty far into the process of moving to Tennessee.
I was on the road (first I-30, then I-40) for seventeen hours yesterday and breaking new ground for most of it. Traveling by bus isn't as cushy as flying or as private as driving your own car, but it isn't nearly as bad as I thought it might be. (And I've got crowd claustrophobia issues, and everyone knows I used to have a big target on my forehead.) I was content for the whole trip. I've never been able to sleep or read in a moving vehicle, and I didn't even have to pull out the CD player until after Jackson. (It wasn't so much that I got bored and wanted a distraction, as that I was overdosing on the overwhelming natural beauty that defines this place and I needed something to help me focus.) I didn't really converse with my fellow travelers. I just spent all that time, even in the darkness through the mostly familiar portions of east Texas and west Arkansas, glued to the window, drinking it all in. My old CB handle, "Rubbernecker", totally applied. I simply couldn't get enough of the show. I'm pretty sure that even if I was just visiting my heart would be set on making this place my home.
Now, I'm better traveled than you would think but really, I haven't left Texas much and I haven't crossed the state line at all in six years. By Little Rock I was farther north than I have ever been before, ever. However, the bogeyman that other people feared would be traveling with me was totally not on that bus. Remember what I said a paragraph ago about being a target, an easy mark? It didn't happen at all this time. People just flat didn't mess with me. A few people were friendly and conversational, and a few people have even asked me for directions (ask me about the Arab later) but for the most part I was blissfully invisible. The same is true of my actions here in town. It's not because I'm making any attempt to bluff or disguise myself; apparently I just look like I know what I'm doing. I look confident and not confused. I thought I'd have a big sign over my head that said "flatlander, furriner, Texan" but the entire trip and all my actions here have been marked as just the opposite. Apparently I have entered an entirely new place, only to come home.
Here's the facts. I'd already been planning since Monday, July 31st to move to Oak Ridge by the end of the month of August. If nothing else, I got impatient, and events led to my purchasing a bus ticket Wednesday night August 9th. Thursday morning August 10th at 12:05 am CDT I boarded a Greyhound bus in Dallas, TX. With layovers or pit stops in Sulphur Springs TX, Prescott AR, Little Rock AR, Memphis TN, Jackson TN, Nashville TN, Cookeville TN, Crossville TN, I stepped off the bus at approximately 6:15 pm EDT here in Knoxville, TN. My dear friends Jay, Marcus, and Jeremy were there at the bus station waiting for me. I'll be coming back to Texas to get the rest of my things, but I am already pretty far into the process of moving to Tennessee.
I was on the road (first I-30, then I-40) for seventeen hours yesterday and breaking new ground for most of it. Traveling by bus isn't as cushy as flying or as private as driving your own car, but it isn't nearly as bad as I thought it might be. (And I've got crowd claustrophobia issues, and everyone knows I used to have a big target on my forehead.) I was content for the whole trip. I've never been able to sleep or read in a moving vehicle, and I didn't even have to pull out the CD player until after Jackson. (It wasn't so much that I got bored and wanted a distraction, as that I was overdosing on the overwhelming natural beauty that defines this place and I needed something to help me focus.) I didn't really converse with my fellow travelers. I just spent all that time, even in the darkness through the mostly familiar portions of east Texas and west Arkansas, glued to the window, drinking it all in. My old CB handle, "Rubbernecker", totally applied. I simply couldn't get enough of the show. I'm pretty sure that even if I was just visiting my heart would be set on making this place my home.
Now, I'm better traveled than you would think but really, I haven't left Texas much and I haven't crossed the state line at all in six years. By Little Rock I was farther north than I have ever been before, ever. However, the bogeyman that other people feared would be traveling with me was totally not on that bus. Remember what I said a paragraph ago about being a target, an easy mark? It didn't happen at all this time. People just flat didn't mess with me. A few people were friendly and conversational, and a few people have even asked me for directions (ask me about the Arab later) but for the most part I was blissfully invisible. The same is true of my actions here in town. It's not because I'm making any attempt to bluff or disguise myself; apparently I just look like I know what I'm doing. I look confident and not confused. I thought I'd have a big sign over my head that said "flatlander, furriner, Texan" but the entire trip and all my actions here have been marked as just the opposite. Apparently I have entered an entirely new place, only to come home.