Tuesday, February 12, 2008


Today I will explain why I hate the Pedestrian Bridge.

Well... hated. I don't despise it anymore. We've come to an understanding now and we get along okay. But for the first year that I lived in Nashville, I hated the bridge.

It all started in 2005. I was brand-new to town and my knowledge of the city was limited to my path to work and back. My second week of the internship, one of my fellow interns invited me to come to a concert. She had a friend that worked for a record label, and there was (in her words) a big concert at LP Field - at that time it was just the coliseum - and this new artist plus Lynyrd Skynyrd were putting on a show. A big show. Her friend was going to give us good tickets and it was going to be cool, cool, cool.

She told me to park across the river from the stadium and follow all the people to the field. I remember her clearly saying: "It'll be so crowded, just like a Titans game. Just park on this side of the river near the bridge and you'll see tons of people heading to the Coliseum so just follow them."

So, feeling like a superstar, I invited my only friend in Nashville to come with us and we dressed to the nines for our first weekend out and about in Music City. Jeans, cute shirt and jewelry and oh yes - 3" stiletto heels. My friend and I do just as told and find a (very very empty) parking lot near the bridge to park in. We only see one other group of people and it's my friend we are meeting. Wondering where all the other tons of people are, we make our way toward the bridge while she calls her friend to see where we are to go. He doesn't answer.

We were about 40-50 paces onto the bridge when I realized I had a very big problem. Not only was I starting to get really hot from my jeans, but my feet were already killing me and we'd only been walking for about a minute. I didn't know how far we'd be walking and I sure didn't think it'd be across the biggest bridge I'd ever seen. Around minute two, I took off my shoes and just went barefoot. We got halfway up and while the view was nice, my feet were still hurting. This bridge had become my Everest.

Once again, let me emphasize that there was No One Else Around. The coliseum was as empty as could be. I think I heard a cricket. There weren't even any cars there. I was so confused.

We finally get off the Wicked Bridge of the East and I put my shoes back on. But once my friend tells us we are going to have to walk around the coliseum, I take them back off.

She finally gets in touch with her friend whom we are supposed to be meeting and he tells her to come to this bar on the other side of the coliseum, called The Trap. We hobble our way to the bar, and finally see other people. Yay.

Once we arrived, I was hit with the realization of what just happened. We walked across that Big Ass Bridge, to find no concert at the Coliseum, maybe because Lynryrd Skynyrd was no longer in existence. Turns out, it was a launch party (and NOT a concert of CMAFest proportion) for two artists: one female act (who was pretty good, I still listen to her album) and the band Van Zant, comprised of the brothers of the late lead singer of Lynryrd Skynyrd.

Despite being in a bad mood from losing all feeling in my feet, I was determined to have fun on my first night out. We stayed at the Trap for a while until I realized that fun? Nowhere to be found at the Trap. Which meant one thing: I had to get back to my car. Which meant one other thing: I had to cross that Big Ass Bridge again. I really did consider taking a cab, but we didn't see any, so my friend and I decided to go for it.

My feet were bleeding. Crying. Swelling. Melting. In 22 years, my feet had never hurt so badly my feet had only hurt that badly once before. I was heading toward the edge of the bridge to jump off when I realized we were at the crest, the summit if you will, and my car was only minutes away.

The rest of the night did get better, but not until after my friend and I went to get something to eat and she spilled marinara sauce all over her cute white top and made me take her home. Like I said, I was bound and determined to have fun, so I dropped her off and met up with a group of non-intern coworkers who knew their way around town. And meeting up with them was the smartest thing I did all night.

So, it wasn't until this past fall that, surrounded by my friends and many drunk Titans fans, I defeated the bridge. I tried to get out of it, even while wearing flip-flops, but I knew it was then or never. And you know what? That bridge isn't so bad when you're not in stilettos. And when you've had a beer!

So the bridge and I are on speaking terms, at least. I can at least drive by it or see it without making comments or hissing noises and my feet curling up in my shoes.


  1. the blisters couldn't have been as bad as they were during homecoming week...there is just no way!

  2. You would know!
    Good call. I fixed it.


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