Up to, and into the Park

Pigeon Forge is 14 pancake restaurants, 12 mini-golf places, 3 “Ripley’s” museums, two aquariums, 20 hotels ranging from medeval to futuristic to upside down, zorbing (the only place in America), an unknown building with a gaping shark for a door, 4 carnivals, Dollywood (the Dolly Parton theme park) and one McDonalds.

Gatlinsberg is exactly the same thing, except designed to look ‘old fashioned”. I’m still not entirely sure if its supposed to look Old English, New England, or Midwest. I’m also not entirely sure what Uber Gatlinsberg is, but it’s the star attraction of the town. And they have just as many pancake places.

Basically, these places are both horrifying and wonderful at the same time, like the white trash version of Disneyland. Oh, wait…

The gaudiness ended so abruptly it caught us off-guard. Suddenly, as if by zoning laws, strip malls were replaced by endless forests. We had arrived. We first went to the welcome center, where we could ask to find swimming holes. The nearest one was about 20 miles away, if you don’t mind a 50 dollar fine.

They didn’t mind. I did though, so I fulfilled a lifelong dream of digging through mud looking for salamanders. Never actually found one, but I’m still checking it off my life to-do list, dammit.

That night, I began to set up my borrowed tent (and borrowed sleeping mat, et. al), to save me some time later. It never got completed, as soon they busted out the whisky and beer and firewood. Sleep was not forthcoming.

See, conversation ranged from booze to women, as it always does, and that alone would’ve made a fun night. But things got weirder when the two guys started making out.

One of the two asked earlier why gay guys kept hitting on him. I theorized it was because he always has his shirt open and has no chest hair. Turns out its actually because he’s gay. Or atleast bi. Or atleast used to be. Despite, or perhaps because of how much he’d had to drink, I could never get a solid answer out of him. Or manage to make out with him. But he left me more confused on the nature of sexuality than ever.

Later, they set up a big tarp and decided to lay down together for the night. I made my way for my tent when they called me back. “Join us!” So I unroll my sleeping bag and relax. For a moment, until they grabbed me and pulled me into a cuddle.

I don’t know if you can have a platonic man-man-woman-man cuddle gropefest, but we tried. Did I mention I’d only met these people 24 hours previous?

I was awoken by a bucket on my face. The water was pouring from the sky. I grabbed all my shit and ran for the tent. Fuck everyone else, atleast I have cover. Except I didn’t. I never finished the tent. The raincover was off, and water pooled inside. I had no choice but to struggle at 4am in the deluge to finish, groping at my tent in the dark, leaving nothing at the campsite unmolested.

I lay in a puddle, soaking, until I fell asleep. I fucked up good.