And here's what I've learned so far:
Tennessee folk drive slow.
Dos Equis is an expensive import beer.
Spare-changers are more advanced over here, and way more mobile. They swoop down on you on their bicycles and get you when you're not looking.
I've doled out $37 in my first week.
Piggly Wiggly isn't the mystical, magical groceryland that I recall from my youth. I have fond memories of smiling, dancing fruit hopping into my family's shopping cart.
I guess it's changed. I don't remember having to fear for my safety when going there after dark. What happened to El Pig? I'll be investigating this further.
Elvis has passed on.
Quesadillas taste more or less the same here as they did in Washington, DC. Same shape, same ingredients, same savory goodness. I'll be investigating this further, in about six minutes.
Tennessee folk sure are friendly. With the exception of the following folk: 1) the front desk guy at the artisan hotel, 2) the time-warner cable guy (major asshole), 3) the waiter at the pho joint when you ask for broken rice, 4) freestyle-rappers walking down the sidewalk who "rap" at us as we drive by, 5) electric company lady when we locked her out.
