My Mis-Adventure in downtown Nashville...

This past Friday night I was all set for my first night-time excursion to downtown Nashville...or so I thought. A friend from Iowa was playing with a band at a place called 12th and Porter. I tried to do as much research before that night as I could. I read about the band, I searched information about the location and even directions. The one thing I missed though- parking. I'm not sure what I was thinking (or if I even was).

As I approached the venue area, I began scanning the surrounding lots and areas for a relatively safe and close parking space. I followed the flow of traffice into a lot just around the corner from my final destination. It was a parking lot with numbered spaces and a high chainlink fence topped with barbed wire. That should have been my first clue or red flag. But this night my mind was somewhere else, absorbed in thoughts of the evening.

I entered the venue, only to find it was a bar with very few people. I noticed some people going through another doorway and inquired whether the band would be performing through there. The answer I received was affirmative, from a small creepy man I might add. So, I paid my cover and walked through the doorway into an almost completely empty room. There was a stage set with musical equipment, a sound booth area at the back and there was a bar on the side. But there were only two other people there. I started to have second thoughts about this venture.

I was to learn later that concerts on this particular stage generally start an hour after the appointed time. So, eventually other people began pouring through the door. This included a friend from church that was a fan of the groups playing and knew people in each. At long last, the show began and I enjoyed the live music immensely. It has been a long time since I've been to a concert.

A little after 11 pm, the music was still going strong, but my friend and I both decided to leave. (We were actually in the back yawning, despite our enjoyment of the music.) We said good-bye to our performing friends and made our way outside. We bade each other adieu and went to our cars in opposite directions. As I approached the entrance to the lot where my car was parked a feeling of dread washed over me. For inhibiting my path was a large gate that had been chained and padlocked to the fence. This was not the kind of gate you could climb over, at least not easily, it was an extension of the fence. I looked to my right and to my left, hoping for an opening I may have earlier missed. There was none I could see. I quickly called my friend (before she could drive too far from the area) and explained my dilemma. Please note that we were not in the best neighborhood. She came around the corner and I climbed into her car. We drove all around the lot searching for anything: an opening, a sign with a name or a phone number, anything other than the giant NO PARKING sign I had evidently overlooked before. One relief through all of this was that my car was still there.

After doing all we could think of with our sleep-deprived minds, we finally accepted defeat and she drove me back to my apartment. She tried to offer words of comfort and encouragement. She even offered some names and phone numbers of people I could call to get a ride the next day (she was going to be out of town). I slowly walked into my home and climbed into bed. I couldn't sleep. All I could think of was my poor car feeling deserted in that lot. Needless to say, I only slept about 2 hours that night.

The next morning I called my parents seeking comfort and wisdom. Though in all honesty, there was nothing they could do or say. I ended up calling a taxi and riding with a man from India (I know this from the India flag prominently displayed) back to that not-so-safe neighborhood hoping and frantically praying that the gate would be open and my car would be there. God heard my prayers that morning, for there in the budding sunlight sat my car behind a wide-open gate. I paid the cabbie and almost ran to my car. Relief washed over me as I heard my locks click open and I climbed into the driver's seat. I kissed the steering wheel in appreciation and promised my precious car that I would clean her soon...I have been neglecting her lately.

All in all, everything turned out alrigh and it was some good lessons learned and only cost me a $30 cab ride. But I will probably think twice before accepting my next invitation to downtown Nashville.