Cosmic Dive 10: A Miracle in Nashville

Wherein Tabitha comes to the rescue

I started this trip with a feeling of foreboding in my mind.

I’ve actually carried this feeling for a few weeks about this trip. I’d scheduled it months ago, needed to use up points and was dying to see old friends, but kept thinking something might go awry. A soft warning seemed to rise from the back of my mind, “Things may not go as planned…” My outlook is generally one of perpetual optimism: as long as its not terribly uncomfortable, I like when travel plans change. It’s usually a more interesting time, anyway - but solo-travelling with a five year old makes me worry more.

The plan had been to fly into Nashville and drive east, then shortly after the sun set on the Smoky Mountains, arrive at my friend Caleb’s farm in Knoxville.

This is the third country we’ve been to in as many months. First Costa Rica, then Spain, and now the US. Waiting in the departures gate to board, I could not believe how young everyone on the plane seemed. On the plane(s) to Spain, the demographic was much older, mostly retirees. Costa Rica in February, a mixed but older crowd, lots of couples, and not many children onboard.

But this, our plane to Tennessee… Waiting in Gate A / USA Departures at Toronto Pearson Airport was like walking into a FRAT PARTY. The flight was packed and the queue to board the plane looked like a model-bomb had gone off. I forgot how gorgeous southern US girls dress, hair curled with full lashes, brassy gold jewelry, lots of neutral make up, Chanel hand bags paired with cowboy boots. Wow. There was also some kind of bachelor party on this flight…throughout the flight, a 6’4 bronco kept struttin’ up and down the aisle wearing a hot pink Stetson and a Green Bay Packers t-shirt.

It was rowdy and boozy and hilarious from the get-go.

Oh, USofA. How I missed you.

My husband and I have travelled to South Carolina and Tennessee a few times together, at the invitation of Caleb, one of my best friends from high school who 11 years ago married a southern belle and relocated to Tennessee. They own a little house with a barn that seems to have an ever-changing roster of farm animals that all seem to mysteriously come and go. There have been goats and bunnies, chickens and ducks; the three kids, the cats and the dog seem to be an ever-constant.

To be honest, I don’t even know. I haven’t seen Caleb or his family in at least five years. Maybe longer. We actually rarely talk, but when we do it’s like no time has passed. He’s that kind of friend.

An arborist by trade, he’s made a living doing tree work and construction, but in truth, he’s a maker. A builder. An artist. His chainsaw may be one tool of choice, but he’s just as incredible with a pen. A writer, poet, and obsessive fan of The Doors, Caleb has been one of my best friends since I was 15. He taught me how to play hooky, how to roll cigarettes and how to play euker. I think one of my first concerts ever was with Caleb and our motley crew of friends. Caleb’s from a big dutch family, and over the years they kind of adopted me. For awhile, it felt like I was always hanging out with a Verzyden. But then, people move away, have kids, grow up, survive pandemics, and life goes on.

I came home from Spain with a heavy heart, gastro, and an acute sense of bewilderment. Am I on the right path? What am I actually doing with my life?

My friend Monica welcomed me home with a classic line, “How can we be forty and still living this gypsy life? What the f— is wrong with us?” I don’t really know.

I really wanted to go somewhere where I could just be me, around people who have known me since adolescence. Cue Nashville. My flight points could get me that far but not all the way to Knoxville…

We landed and found our way to the rental cars. Nope, I couldn’t take a rental car one way to Knoxville. Nope, Lyft won’t take you — or it will, but it will cost ya.

I called Caleb. He could drive the 6-hour round trip to come pick us up in Nashville, but not until the next morning. I walked to the Information Booth and asked about hotels with shuttle service. I’d just grab us a room and we’d chill for the night and Caleb could come pick us up in the morning.

The Information Booth lady slid over a list of hotels with no addresses, just phone numbers. I had the Expedia app open on my phone. La Quinta Inn & Suites looked good. They even had an indoor pool. Yup, it was on the list of hotels with shuttles. I booked it quick on Expedia, called the number on the shuttle list and ordered a shuttle.

We wandered through the Nashville ground transportation floor and exited into a parking garage. Everything feels heightened when you’re trying to find your way somewhere you’ve never been before. I love that feeling of adventure, but it was already 6pm, we hadn’t eaten anything since noon and my anxiety was starting to creep in. We waited in the hotel shuttle bay for another 30 minutes. Finally, a big yellow and black cargo van appeared with the words “Lion Transportation” scrawled across the front arrived. The driver hopped out and said, “Where you goin’?”

“La Quinta Inn & Suites,” I replied with confidence.

“Which one?” he asked.

"Umm…” I looked at my phone, bewildered. Expedia app was glitching and wouldn’t open and I didn’t have the airport wifi anymore to check my email. I quickly called the same number I had called at the Information Booth.

“Hi there, just confirming your address?”

“Atrium Way,” the front desk lady replied.

“Atrium Way.” I confirmed with confidence. The driver nodded.

We arrived at the hotel 15 minutes later. Standing at the front desk was a tall woman with wild orange hair, frantically speaking to someone on her iphone.

“Well, I don’t know…” she gestured wildly, eyes rolling. “Well, if you’re there and I’m here then I’ll have to come get you…I know, I know…”

The front desk lady waved me forward. “Hi, reservation for Heming…”

“Expedia confirmation number?” I presented the information. “Hmm…oh dear…oh no. What is happening today?” the front desk lady murmured to herself, head shaking.

“Honey,” she said, looking up over the desk sympathetically, “you’re at the wrong hotel.”

“What?” I gaped.

“You’re booked at the Downtown La Quinta. There’s three La Quintas. This lady here is having the same trouble…”

I looked at the tall orange haired woman, who suddenly lurched forward, still on the phone, gesturing wildly, “Don’t worry! I have a car, I’ll take you!”

I took a minute to process. It was now close to 8pm. Zazie was weak with hunger, and there was no way to cancel or change the Expedia booking.

I looked her up and down and immediately thought, “Ok - well, this is a miracle.”

The tall orange haired woman hung up and introduced herself as Tabitha, assuring us she wasn’t crazy, that she was a vetted school bus driver who had just driven 7 1/2 hours from Michigan for a holistic health conference and who had similarly ended up at the wrong La Quinta. Within five minutes, we were in her dirty Honda and careening along the Interstate towards downtown Nashville.

I couldn’t stop thanking her. There was no shuttle service between La Quintas and a cab would have been expensive. We are doing this on trip on a severe budget, and I was kind of panicked at the thought of hiring a cab. In my eyes, she was saving us.

Tabitha chattered away the whole 20 minute drive. Her mother had just been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and she was acutely aware of the fragility of life and had made a decision to do good deeds whenever the opportunity presented itself and wasn’t this an opportunity to do a good deed?

I agreed, it was. A very good deed.

We arrived shortly after 8pm at the Downtown La Quinta, which appeared as an oasis of comfort on the side of an Interstate surrounded by empty parking lots all under construction. Multiple bull dozers busily plowed all around it.

We walked in and told the Concierge Luke about our unfortunate-yet-fortunate happenstance and ended up getting upgraded to an Executive Suite King-size Room at no charge, and yes, were just in time to order food before the kitchen closed.

Every day miracles at work.

The next morning, Caleb arrived promptly with his three year old son Jack to pick us up and take us to Knoxville. Within about half an hour of driving, car sickness set in for both kids in the back seat. Puking commenced and didn’t stop for the next two hours. It was a miserable drive, but Caleb and I barely noticed, so excited to catch up on five years of experiences and life stories. I’d spin to catch vomit in a thin plastic gas station bag, then spin back around and we’d keep chatting, not missing a beat.

We arrived shortly after lunch in Knoxville. The sun was shining and the weather was expected to get hot.

We’ve been here 24 hours and been greeted by a horse, a donkey, a chicken named Polly, three cats named Lemon, Pretzel and Carl, and a sweet dog named Shadow.

It’s going to be a short stay but we are here for the Total Solar Eclipse, which we’re all really excited about. No big plans, just quality time and an opportunity for the children to get to know one another.

Every day miracles, at work.