Where the Wild Things Are

If you want to eat out on a Sunday in Chattanooga, call first to see if the restaurant is open. It will save me (as your chauffeur) a lot of bother. The restaurant I wanted to try downtown was closed. My alternate new restaurant was closed. The Chattanooga Choo-Choo requires reservations. That probably also means I need to wear a tie. Heck, I was lucky to even be wearing pants. (Er, I mean, I wasn't in shorts that day.) The next two restaurants were closed, as well -- five restaurants in a four square block area not open. (That professor never mentioned having a Plan F.) I fell back on the Terminal Brewhouse, but I'm running out of menu items which interest me. Of course, I could always go just for the beer...

Speaking of which, do you recall my rant (7/19/09) about not being able to purchase alcohol on a Sunday morning? Well, as I drove to my Ruby Falls/Rock City/Incline
Railway adventure earlier that day, I passed by an adult entertainment store, and it was open. I can't buy booze or eat out, but I can buy porn at 8:00 a.m. on a Sunday!

Labor Day was calmer with far less frustration. I wasn't awakened at an indecent hour by partying neighbors. I walked my laps without being interrupted by rain. I arrived at the Chattanooga Zoo half an hour after opening, and there were just five other cars in the lot, so I knew it wouldn't be crowded. I figured I could enjoy a leisurely stroll being gawked at by the animals, and surely the restaurant I had selected for lunch would be open by 11 a.m.

I had been warned by a coworker that the zoo was "lame". I thought it was nice -- not great, but nice. They have good intentions, but I could tell they're working on a small budget. (The Philadelphia or Lincoln Park zoos it ain't.) I looked at every exhibit. I read every sign (even the emergency response signs at the entrances of every indoor exhibit, telling firemen if there are any hazardous materials or critters in the building). I watched every animal that was moving and searched displays for those who might be hiding (more of the chimps were outside than inside). I even threatened an African Crowned Crane, or I aroused it; I'm not sure which. (It stretched out its neck, spread its wings, and walked back and forth in front of me. Either it was trying to make itself look bigger because it felt threatened by my height, or it was thinking, "Ooh! That's a tall one, and he's prettier than my mate. May I have him instead?") Speaking of mating, does any of you (Yeah, I know that sounds awkward, but it's grammatically correct.) know if late summer is mating season for turtles and tortoises? Either I have an unfortunate habit of visiting the turtle/tortoise display during mating season, or my pheromones were so darn strong that day that more than one other species was made to feel amorous. Anyhoo...

I saw all the exhibits. I also paid a buck to be the solo rider of the Endangered Species Carousel (I chose the snow leopard). I chatted with the attendant (I have a knack with elderly women; I always have.) and learned that the workings of the carousel date back to 1927, that it was found in a barn in the Carolinas, and that the animal seats (no two are the same species) were newly carved especially for the zoo. (I also got music from the real calliope, not the stereo loudspeaker recording that the whiny kids after me got. Ha!) I looked at every gewgaw in the gift shop and bought a stuffed owl (while learning "owl" is chouette in French and buho in Spanish) and two owl bookmarks. I looked at my watch. WTF? After all that touristy stuff, I was there less than an hour and a half? Yes, it is that small a zoo.

I got to Master Blasters BBQ (and got that infernal song stuck in my head for two days after that) just before eleven, but I knew they'd be open because their sign out front said, "Open Labor Day". (Oddly enough, the sign on the door, with their regular hours, said they're normally closed on Mondays.) The wife of the couple waiting with me was more inquisitive and looked around back. "Oh, we don't open until twelve on holidays," the owner explained when he came up front, but he did give us take-home menus so we could prepare our minds and stomachs during the next hour. The verdict? The pork shoulder sandwich was okay. I prefer to rate barbecue by the establishment's spare ribs, but they're too hard to eat while reading (at least if you care about not getting barbecue sauce on the pages), so I settle for a mystery meat sandwich, and it's so smothered in sauce anyway, you can't even taste the meat. I was the only customer who ate there; all the others (the couple who showed up at eleven with me, and a bunch of others who apparently knew enough not to come until noon) bought take-away. The owner's wife had Lifetime Movie Network on the television.

That was the end of my Weekend of Adventure. I spent the rest of the day reading and playing computer games. I was a bit tired, but if you come visit, I'll save enough energy to continue on to the Creative Discovery Museum, the Aquarium, or one of the Civil War battlefields in the area. Just let me know when you're coming, so I can make reservations.