I have sorta kinda come to terms with the fact that it’s been ten years since I’ve been to Opryland. Ten years since I rode the Wabash Cannonball, ten years since I’ve boarded the train at Grinder’s Switch…I’ve come to a level of acceptance that I will never again stand in line at the Flume Zoom and hear the sounds of Russ and Becky Jeffers warbling about that Fox on the Run across the way at the Martin Theater…The days are but a memory when I could see “Country Music USA” and “I Hear America Singing”…I will never zip around the Rockin’ Roller Coaster, go down the stairs and back up again for another spin with Chubby Checker blaring on a jukebox in the background…no more Tram rides at 10:00 at night when the park has closed…no more hearing the voice in the back of the tram say “Tram Stop B….alllllll klurrr.”
I’ll never again get on the Sky Ride and hold my breath til we get to the other side, anxious that the cable will stop midway across like it was known to do…splash my hands in the fountain with the blue water in the New Orleans area….get a really bad cariacature done of myself…stand in line for hours at the Grizzly River Rampage and close my eyes really tight in the cave, so as not to see the scary, stuffed bear (I did this even when I was grown and rode the ride with my own kids) and then get soaked on that last dip towards the end…I’ll never put my children on the Mini Rockin’ Roller Coaster, airplanes, mini ferris wheel and cars that I rode over and over myself when I was a kid.
Really, I’ve come to a level of acceptance of these things. Life is about change, blah blah. I’ll never forgive the buttheads who decided there had to be a mall right in the spot where Opryland was. No, we had to have a mall right there next to the Grand Ole Opry. I imagine Roy and Minnie have turned a few somersaults in their graves over this stuff.
Everytime I’m at Opry Mills and can smell the Opryland Smell that still lingers, I guess, from the Cumberland River, there’s a for real sadness and just plain pissed off-ness that I can’t pretend I don’t feel. I can deal with it though.
I thought I had dealt with my feelings about the whole Opryland is closed thing, ok, until yesterday when we went to the Mall to go to eat for Nephew Smiff’s birthday. (I’m not going to even go into how one should never go to Opry Mills during Tax Free weekend, even though we got some splendid bargains on clothes).
When I saw this right here, I thought I was going to throw up all over the flower bed where me and Patrick had our prom picture made. Somebody try to explain to me what the retards at Opryland were thinking when they decided to paint one of the few things that remains from our blessed theme park this horrendous, putred color?