My gracious host, and my precarious situation (part two)

Continued from part one...

Day two in Nashville, cohabitating with my attractive new roommate, Karyn. Morning. Karyn showered and dressed and left in the morning without barely making a sound and without blinding me with any lights inside the room. I didn't hear any alarm go off either. Her movements wouldn't have disturbed me at all if I had been asleep in the first place. But as it was, I was having a hard time falling asleep, and whenever I did, I was waking up from some stupid dream and finding it difficult to go back to sleep. It wasn't a good night for me, but I made up for it after she left. I slept like a baby.

She called once in the morning, but I was in bed and by now sleeping soundly so I didn't know it. After two missed calls I didn't know about, there was a tap at the door. The loud rings of my phone didn't make me stir, but somehow, this gentle knock did the trick. It always does in hotels. And since I knew I had put the "do not disturb" sign up after Karyn left in the early morning, I figured it must not be housekeeping at the door. I'd better check it. Especially in case it was my breadwinning roommate, who would be locked out because I had latched the door shut.

I answered the door, and yep, it was Karyn. She had forgotten her laptop in the room and needed it for work later in the day. She had called twice to let me know she would be coming back for it. She asked what I was up to for the rest of the day. I said my plans were up in the air but that I would probably be checking out some music downtown. She told me when she was getting off work, and that's when I took notice: She didn't have plans either and thought we might get together. Hey, no protest here! Sounds fine to me!

She said someone once told her, "If you're ever downtown in Nashville, you HAVE to go to Tootsie's and order a Pabst Blue Ribbon!" I pointed out that Tootsie's is just one of several honkytonks on a one-block stretch of Broadway with near-identical layouts and near-identical beer selections, but if she wanted that place in particular, it would be fine with me! If I wasn't going to end up there, it would be one of the other half-a-dozen places with the same scene.

Karyn went back to work and left me to my beauty sleep. It was more of the same: heavy sleep. That felt good. It took me several more hours to get up, shower, and embark on a walking journey down Broadway, past the Interstate, to the White Castle. I knew it was there, and I knew I had always heard great things about the franchise's food, but I had never experienced it for myself and wanted to give it a try. So I ate four sliders and a six-piece chicken rings -- half BBQ, half ranch. Honestly, for all the hype surrounding White Castle, the food didn't do much for me. Just tasted like McDonald's hamburgers, only smaller. If anything, I thought there was more pepper on these.

Karyn caught me on the phone just as I was leaving White Castle with a slightly bad taste in my mouth, so she laughed and pointed out that all the general public's fondness for White Castle was based on states of being other than sobriety. Yeah, that makes sense.

That out of the way, Karyn asked what was next on my itinerary. I said possibly downtown, if she was interested in meeting up at some point. She didn't realize there would be music in the afternoon. I informed her that indeed there's music all the time on Broadway. She said she could drive downtown and offered to pick me up. I countered that I was close enough downtown just to walk the whole rest of the way and meet her wherever she parked. First, she tantalyzed me by mentioning a bar called the Beer Sellar that advertised "99 flavors of beer." Sounded fine -- and eerily familiar. Next, she ended up getting a ride into town from Pam. Great! No worries about driving intoxicated later on!

So we tried several of the 99 flavors, and I fed the jukebox, and Karyn helped balance my picks of "No Rain" and "Idioteque" with some "Material Girl" and -- hmmm, "Welcome to the Jungle," not bad! Coincidentally, she and I converged on Bob Marley & the Wailers as our individual jukebox picks. Through several rounds and several more free "tastes" of others we wanted to try, we stayed entertained for quite a while. Oh, and when you're there, be sure to try the mini nachos! Tasty! We got out of the Beer Sellar with an extraordinarily cheap bar tab for all we drank -- and also six tall Paulaner beer glasses to take home, thanks to a Tuesdays-only promotion. Seemed like we were ahead of the game!

Then we carted off by foot to Tootsie's, where I said the upstairs band was probably more our speed. Karyn said I was right. We nursed our 16 oz. Pabst Blue Ribbons; she insisted on calling the beer by its full name rather than the initials, because that's the way it was recommended to her. I didn't quite understand that, but I went with it. Don't rock the boat.

We didn't spend much time there, but next on the agenda was a meal. So we wandered around, with our box of beer glasses in tow, and looked at the restaurants -- some we'd heard good and bad recommendations of, and some that were complete mysteries to both of us. Surprisingly, we were pretty well in the know for a couple of tourists. We did walk into one spaghetti place but both commented that it smelled a little too much like vomit inside. On to the next place!

In spite of having heard a colleague of hers report that the dishes another spaghetti place we saw were no better than at Shoney's, that's the place we settled down in. We had a bottle of Blue Nun with our meal, and we spent most of the time at our table laughing. When I brought up her tendency to laugh in her sleep, she burst out laughing. She hadn't been told that in almost a decade, when a college roommate asked about her strange habit. Karyn didn't know she was still doing it. And because she was, it was a riot! Glad I mentioned it. I told her it bodes well for her natural temperament; it's a sign that she is relaxed when she laughs. She couldn't argue against that point.

Despite our drinking, the ambience inside Demo's also allowed for some serious conversation. I relayed my doubts about my impending (yet tentative plans to) move to Nashville, which I had confided in few at that point. My doubts were only about 24 hours in the making. I didn't come to any vast realizations over my plate of alfredo sauce over spaghetti and tomato base over Italian sausage, but it was no less good for the soul that I confided in Karyn. It probably helped her to get to know the real me. But I'm not one to let a conversation grow too serious, so I made sure the lighthearted mood returned. We were laughing again quickly. Thanks for the assist, alcohol!

If it had been a date, I would have rated it fairly high. It was a success in terms of so many things! And we picked up glasses for dirt cheap! But back at the room, two things struck me. 1.) She was drunk, and it's probably not a good idea to take advantage of her. 2.) Oh yeah. Right. She's my gracious hostess, and I mustn't rock the boat. If I misinterpret a signal, the penalty is probably being homeless! Don't want that to happen.

She changed clothes and got under her covers. I did the same with mine. Lights out, TV off. She asked me to light the candle she had on top of the TV. I tried; damn thing wouldn't light. Candle? If that was a signal, I still didn't want to risk misinterpreting it. Bedtime! Alone, again. And before I could even reconsider, I heard what sounded like sleeping. I said, "Don't tell me you're already sleeping." She didn't tell me. She couldn't, and she didn't have to. She was passed out cold.

I heard no laughing that night. She was just that dead tired. I fell asleep rather quickly too and stayed that way for most of the night. But I had occasional dreams about complimenting a brunette female on her cute face and her being amused. The mystery dream girl didn't really remind me much of Karyn except for her trademark smirk.

To be concluded...