How To Tour Knoxville, On One Foot

As usual, my company sent me off to nowheresville. Southwest of Knoxville (TN for those wondering where the hell that is), there exists a town (ie, land just outside major county tax zones) called Loudon. Not London, Loudon. The idea here is to drive to the airport, catch a flight to Knoxville, drive down to Loudon, go to meeting. No problem. And it wouldn’t have been, had I not hurt my foot the day before.

Playing a little too much sand volleyball (as I’m apt to do), took another toll on my old, decrepit body. I seem to have stressed a ligament or something on my foot. The pain Monday morning was quite annoying. It was worse when I tried to stand on it. I am able to walk with the least pain by walking on my toes basically. This of course has two effects: 1) I look like one of Jerry’s Kids, 2) my calf is now severely overworked.

After an altercation with the Parking Deck sign, attendant, call box, ramp and directions, I finally had to settle for Park and Ride 1. Note that while I won’t go into detail, let it be known I’m willing to pay for information leading to the identification of the idiot that designed the roadway and gate system into the Parking Deck. And frankly I have some expendable cash right now and I’m just looking to blow it. I do finally get into the airport and checked in. On the plane and off we go.

A quick stop in Charlotte (why am I always going there?) I get off to get some food. I think people are considering throwing money at me and chanting, "You can dooo it!". Starving, I pay no attention to the incredulous onlookers. I realize that not only does my walking seem funny, so must the rationale. After all, I’m wearing regular clothes, no cast and am not drooling on myself. This means I probably didn’t break it and I’m not one of Jerry’s Kids, so obviously I never learned to walk correctly.

Back on the plane, only slightly appeased with the biscuit, off again. I must say, that Knoxville Airport (Tyson), is actually nice. Really. Small, but nice. Cool marble floors and waterfalls and plenty of glass. Actual food and good service. End promo.

So for the $3, I ‘upgrade’ to the Taurus. And I found the car. Why? Because they had signs. And lots of ‘em. For everything. It’s like someone said, "What would Clay need to get through here?" Since my own personal assistant was out of the question, a shitload of signs was the next best thing. On the road now, foot not too bad. The roads are nice there. As was the scenery . 70mph speed limits and I’m on my way. No road rage and signs all around.

Being the planner that I am, I had already mapped out the areas two disc golf courses, directions and even timed all this so I could get a round in and get to the office on time. Of course, I didn’t include injury time or directional problems. And I forgot about the heat. Although I like the heat, I don’t like to smell like it. So I was going to need a shower, which cut into my time. But I wasn’t thinking about that then. All I was thinking about was the pain. Which meant I had plenty to think about.

Tune in tomorrow when you’ll here Clay say, "@#$#@$^$&%^&**"