Country Royalty
Once again, I had a driving adventure.
I had to miss my ballet class last Thursday to attend Matthew’s soccer banquet (more on that in another post. I promise), so I made up that class last night at the other ballet studio in Brentwood. I left at 6 pm to get to a 7:30 pm class, leaving ample time for the 40 minute drive.
Of course, I got lost. Again.
I got off the Interstate (incredibly proud of myself for not causing an accident and of my car for actually approaching 60 mph in a 70 mph zone). I turned right, as my directions instructed. I spotted the lefthand turn - across 6 lanes of traffic. So I had to continue to drive to turn around.
Side note on why this simple task involving three turns was so complicated: I am cheap. Why print out Mapquest directions on expensive printer paper when you can hand copy them in cryptic handwriting on a dark green Post-It note stolen from the office that is too dark to read in an unlit car?
So I drove through the suburbs for a bit. Only these aren’t ordinary suburbs. This is where the Nashville elite live.
Now, I come from an affluent area (of course, I myself am not affluent and indeed had to apply for assisted housing just to be able to afford to live in that affluent area. I’m still adjusting to the idea of affordable housing, which is such a mind-numbing process that whenever Matthew talks about buying a house I break out in hives). I’ve seen plenty of million dollar houses. Except the housing market is so ca-razy in DC they look like biggish normal houses. I’ve never actually seen, in person, a mansion รก la The Fabulous Life.
I did last night.
We’re talking castles. We’re talking marble everything. We’re talking huge gates. We’re talking custom designed to look like treble-clef and notes gates. It was unworldly. I kept driving just to look around (digging myself into a bigger and bigger directional hole). I passed private schools (Brentwood Academy). I passed a country club. People, I was so impressed and astounded - and this was at night.
The sick thing is I felt kind of like I was at home. I’m so used to seeing big houses and development everywhere and a Borders on every corner. One shopping center in the vicinity (hey, I was driving around lost for a long time, okay? Even rich people need their mocha lattes) even had a version of a Whole Foods. I mean, the talk of the town last week was the fact that we’re getting a Tiffany’s and a Louis Vuitton store right next to the Cole Haan in the fancy mall. This, my friends, is not Hee Haw Land. It’s kind of sad, actually, to be transplanted into a place that feel exactly the same. I don’t feel that way out in Cracker Barrelville, where our apartment is. It still has stores and restaurants I haven’t heard of and don’t know exactly what I will order the minute I sit down. And I like that. I like seeing moms at Matthew’s basketball games that look like moms (more on that in another post). I didn’t like going to the fancy mall and seeing everyone with the same Coach bag - it feels like we’re losing something and don’t care that it’s slipping through our fingers.
I finally found the studio at 7:15 pm, feeling a little overwhelmed, a little sad, and a lot poor.
