I didn’t realize I had any expectations for Knoxville until I got there and realized it wasn’t what I thought it was.
Knoxville is spread out but small. One-note but diverse. Naturally beautiful but mechanically ugly.
Our second show on the road was at a small pizza shop in a strip mall just outside Knoxville. Great food, fun people, etc.
The next day, a friend recommended Lunch House for breakfast.
Lunch House is cash only and still has signs up stating that shoes and shirts are required for an exchange of food and money. This implies that enough barefooted and/or shirtless people show up frequently enough to warrant a sign about the whole awkward thing.
Roller-rink-yellow and liquid-ketchup-red walls and tables loudly accent humble art of idyllic country settings in Salvation Army frames. The food was outstanding, with not one but two biscuits and gravy served as a side to my ham and cheese omelet.
In the Midwest that biscuits with the business would have been its own stupid $7 meal. So obviously the south has its upsides.
After breakfast we drove about an hour to Pigeon Forge. This drive allowed for ample viewing of the mountains and the foliage hanging peacefully between life and death.
The billboards about heaven and hell and eternal damnation sprinkled in between took the life and death contemplation from thoughtful reverie to disconcerting reality.
But alas, when one is in creationist country one must chalk all that talk up to local culture if one is not to get increasingly annoyed by its unfortunate timing and mountain-view ruining. I think they’ve just got their guns out hard—literally and figuratively—because it’s election season.
There was certainly a tension in the air, which may have been in my head because the closest I get to believing in a sacred heart is when I feel my own liberal bleeding one.
Regardless, I physically tightened everytime I saw the name TRUMP, because it wasn’t just a a sign or two cutely placed in someone’s front yard. It was, like, a giant handmade road sign the size of a tent. Shirts “playfully” threatening violence against our other potential future president for sale underneath (shirts shipped from China I’m sure).
Those sublime mountains can start to feel domineering and claustrophobic after a while if you don’t feel totally comfortable below, trapped in a red state that has no foreseeable future of turning blue unless you choke it.
Traveling during the 2016 election, I guess much like the 2016 election, has a very unique set of pain points.
ANYWAY.
We are heading to Pigeon Forge to see the Queen. Not Mother Mary or Beyonce but close. The one and only Ms. Dolly Parton.
And we did see her. Literally everywhere. Even the gas station miles away had a framed photo of her from her spiky hair years (inspired by Cher I’m guessing) near its cash register.
The town in which Dollywood is located is everything you think it is and it is perfect. Cartoonish in its colors and outrageousness, it features not one but two Christmas supply stores—nay, warehouses—as well as a car lot called Big Boys Toys, a restaurant called Rebel Dish, and an As Seen on TV outlet.
My favorite retail option was a massive building called Sexy Stuf. So sexy they’ve already slipped out of the extra f for you. Its giant sign included an illustration of Cupid in a big heart. From the outside, Sexy Stuf was a cheesy light-hearted display of sexuality that seemed to avoid fully addressing the mystery and complexity of it. A nod to the fact that it happens but we don’t really need to talk about it, y’all. Which reminded me, fittingly, of what makes Dolly Parton so appealing to me and a larger portion of the American population.
Also, I’m really regretting not hitting up the As Seen on TV store. Could have really used a Wonder Wallet and Woof Washer.
Lunch House. If you go and the front’s packed, don’t worry. There’s more room in the back.The Lunch House.Yes, please.All you need.‘Till next time.Required listening for driving into the Dollywood parking lot before you catch a trolley to the entrance.omgomgomg. Not pictured: My dumb smiling face.Was referencing “bust” at a theme park for Dolly Parton, who has one of the most famous bust lines north AND south of the Mason Dixon line, part of the joke or an innocent happenstance? This happened a lot to me here. I couldn’t tell if I should be laughing or not.As expected, Dolly’s image was everywhere here. It’s so fun. Right beside this theater front is Dolly’s tour bus that you can go into.The wannabe designer in me had to show you these color combinations. So many pinks and purples! Color crush for real.
You guys. This was the video that played before a really cool live show about rare and majestic birds. This video could very well be a spoof of American values from SNL. I have counted zero people of color in the whole thing and I love that it’s about the freedom of the birds… birds that we could then go gawk at in their tiny cages afterward. The strangest part about the experience of watching this in public was that no else thought it was remotely cheesy enough to clap for our sort of laugh about afterward. That’s when I knew I wasn’t in the Midwest anymore. This was normal viewing down here. It was so surreal. America deserves some new propaganda.
Dolly’s body and hair are Pamela Anderson-esque in their fakeness and potential for body issue/ beauty standards conversations. I usually scoff at this obscene level of beauty manipulation, but on Dolly it’s charming. Girl wears her male gaze so well! Maybe because it seems so clearly to be her decision and joy to look that way and be an object of obsession. She doesn’t come off as desperate. Ever. Maybe that’s because that body type seems kind of old school? It’s a little ridiculous now, categorized as a 10 out of 10 with Doctor’s Help edition. It’s not just part of the show, it’s the show itself. That body is just a branding tool. An identification marker. Which doesn’t make it seem dangerous, either to the most sex-shaming conservative nor the most sexy-shaming progressive. Or maybe it’s not a big deal to me because she’s older. She’s sweet and cute and safe and not one more thing my own body has to live up to. Her shape is so unattainable, it’s OK to not attain it. I don’t know. I haven’t figured this one out yet.If you go to Dollywood, you would be a fool out $65 if you did not go see the Dolly museum. It’s a veritable shrine to Ms. Parton.See? Shrine of stuff.My love for Dolly is about much more than her music or upbeat attitude. It’s personal. I too was born countryside with a strong case of wanderlust. I think anyone born different in a place where survival matters most can identify with her journey.Dolly’s super quippy. There’s so much wit on her she’s constantly dusting her shoulders off. She’s smart but she uses that Southern humility trick to get you underestimating her at first. Busty waters run deep. But she’s also full of shit sometimes, which I love. Maybe she doesn’t know she’s full of it, but anytime you speak in Pinterest quotes for a living you’re kind of full of it right? Dolly seems mostly genuine though and that’s what makes her so appealing. She’s Christian but loves the gay community that loves her right back. She’s country mouse who can hang with city mouse without seeming like she does’t respect herself. She works her tail off but knows how to have fun too. She talks in bullshit but also with brilliant and comforting insight. She’s special.
It was interesting how masculinity was addressed in such a feminized theme park. One of the roller coaster rides we went on was all about being a volunteer fire fighter and how being a fire fighter was such an honor. No doubt, but it was an odd choice for a roller coaster ride theme… unless you consider that that’s a huge value down here–committing yourself toward your community’s idea of the greater good and being an unquestioned hero for it. Also, it was cool to see giant manly men in Dollywood shirts with butterflies.It’s fun to get little peeks into the movie industry. The writer in me liked seeing the old scripts for movies she’s been in.As much as I adored this experience of Dollywood and will go back the next time I’m in the south, it’s so funny to have been to a whole amusement park based on a real person–a person who is still alive no less. I don’t know… do you think that could happen today? Could there be a Kanye park? It just seems so unnecessary and dated now. Because we can just Google all this. And, beyond celebrity, we all have our own mini shrines to ourselves on Facebook or social media now. Fame is not what it used to be, which is part of why this museum is so fascinating. Seeing old TV clips of her performing and photos of her with every celebrity from the sixties, seventies, and eighties seems like such a piece of American history. A type of history that will never happen again. Fame is fractured now and all of us get a tiny piece of it. Before, people like Dolly were how you consumed it. The fourth wall for fame hadn’t been shattered yet. The public looked on, didn’t participate. Dolly was grandfathered into this level of velvet painting stardom. That social underpinning alone makes this amusement park worth seeing.Bottom line though. Dolly seems cool as fuck. True to herself. Open-minded and kind… That’s all this country girl wants too.
