A Very Nashville Story
Canadian Vacation Edition
It's a good bet that most of you have seen National Lampoon's Vacation. You may remember the scene where the Griswolds finally get to Wally World only to find that the park was closed for the season. In a fit of exhausted pique, the family patriarch, Clark, pulls a gun on the guard, played to perfection by John Candy, and forces him to open up the rides so they can have their day of fun. Candy was one of those actors who exuded Canadian Nice, so the hapless security guard Laskey tried to make the Griswolds happy.
What if the roles were reversed?
In 1988, I worked for Opryland. After the park closed for the season, things got slow except for Opry nights (still at The Acuff while restoration was going on at The Ryman.) I was sent to the front of the park to do schematic drawings of the ticket booths and welcome center. It was a cool and blissfully quiet day to spend on my hands and knees with a tape measure when I heard voices coming from the front gate. It was locked. I was safe as houses. I shrugged and got back to work.
Then I heard the gate rattle again, not hard, but more like they were going to give it one more try just to be sure.
"Honey, they're closed." The male voice carried that tone of Dad care that meant he was going to have to deal with disappointment from the tribe.
A woman's voice murmured.
"Lemme see that brochure." I could hear paper being unfolded. " Oh, for Pete's sake. This is five years old!" After which the man sighed.
"Dad?"
Oh, no. They have kids with them? I couldn't just hide out and hope they would go away. I stood up and walked to the gate where the family stood looking at the closed booths and glimpsing the log flume ride in the distance. There they were: Mom, Dad, and three cute stairsteps of kids. Behind them was the RV they'd driven from Saskatchewan.
I explained that the park closed for the season two weeks ago.
"Ah well," sighed the Dad. "We'll be back next year, then! Can you tell us a good place to get something to eat before we hit the road?"
I asked them to give me ten minutes and went back to the welcome center to call my boss and explain the situation to him. After I had to swear I was telling the truth, he caught his breath from laughing and asked me if I'd seen National Lampoon's Vacation.
He asked to talk to the parents and then he got busy.
Meet the hero of this story, Andy K. He managed to get them tickets to The General Jackson dinner cruise, they saw shows at The Nashville Network, if I remember correctly, they even got a bus tour of the city. It wasn't the three-day "Tricket" they'd planned, but he did his best to show our best.
Here's the thing. I was in my third year as a park/Opry wonk and there was little I hadn't seen or heard. People threatened to sue over everything from the weather to Loretta Lynn 's decision to wear a red cat suit to a late Opry. It shocked me that this family had driven so far and they saw this as something out of my control and beyond their ability to remedy and accepted what was there in the moment. It was a perfect confluence of accidental Zen and the way we should embrace Mosaic ideals of hospitality.
What if the roles were reversed?
In 1988, I worked for Opryland. After the park closed for the season, things got slow except for Opry nights (still at The Acuff while restoration was going on at The Ryman.) I was sent to the front of the park to do schematic drawings of the ticket booths and welcome center. It was a cool and blissfully quiet day to spend on my hands and knees with a tape measure when I heard voices coming from the front gate. It was locked. I was safe as houses. I shrugged and got back to work.
Then I heard the gate rattle again, not hard, but more like they were going to give it one more try just to be sure.
"Honey, they're closed." The male voice carried that tone of Dad care that meant he was going to have to deal with disappointment from the tribe.
A woman's voice murmured.
"Lemme see that brochure." I could hear paper being unfolded. " Oh, for Pete's sake. This is five years old!" After which the man sighed.
"Dad?"
Oh, no. They have kids with them? I couldn't just hide out and hope they would go away. I stood up and walked to the gate where the family stood looking at the closed booths and glimpsing the log flume ride in the distance. There they were: Mom, Dad, and three cute stairsteps of kids. Behind them was the RV they'd driven from Saskatchewan.
I explained that the park closed for the season two weeks ago.
"Ah well," sighed the Dad. "We'll be back next year, then! Can you tell us a good place to get something to eat before we hit the road?"
I asked them to give me ten minutes and went back to the welcome center to call my boss and explain the situation to him. After I had to swear I was telling the truth, he caught his breath from laughing and asked me if I'd seen National Lampoon's Vacation.
He asked to talk to the parents and then he got busy.
Meet the hero of this story, Andy K. He managed to get them tickets to The General Jackson dinner cruise, they saw shows at The Nashville Network, if I remember correctly, they even got a bus tour of the city. It wasn't the three-day "Tricket" they'd planned, but he did his best to show our best.
Here's the thing. I was in my third year as a park/Opry wonk and there was little I hadn't seen or heard. People threatened to sue over everything from the weather to Loretta Lynn 's decision to wear a red cat suit to a late Opry. It shocked me that this family had driven so far and they saw this as something out of my control and beyond their ability to remedy and accepted what was there in the moment. It was a perfect confluence of accidental Zen and the way we should embrace Mosaic ideals of hospitality.