I Heart Knoxville
By Nicholas Stix
I was sitting in a saloon early tonight on Downtown Knoxville's Gay Street (no, not that kind of gay!), slugging down gelati, and called The Boss' and The Boss' Boss. I say, "I've got two beautiful new mistresses, sitting on either side of me."
She laughs.
Her Boss says, "I love you, Dad." I respond in kind. Overhearing my conversation, one of the lovely damsels at the next table, each of them about 48, shouts out, "We love you!"
On the way there, I was directed by two other bodacious babes in shorts, also about 48, one dark-haired, the other blonde. I ask them if they're coming from, or heading to the gym. "We're cleaning ladies heading to work," one explains. "Well, you must be the prettiest two cleaning ladies anywhere." They are very appreciative.
An ungenerous reader might assert that they were only nice because I was flirting with them. Au contraire; I only flirted with them, after they were nice to me.
After the gelato bar, I settle in at another saloon with tables outside. This gorgeous, sweet girl with a peaches-and-cream complexion takes care of me.
I spend a couple of hours kibitzing with an old busker, whose dog, Jake, immediately adopts me. A Young lady at the next table was friends with Channon Christian, and gives me her e-mail, so we can talk later.
When I'm about to go, I ask the waitress for directions back to my hotel, warning her that I have no sense of direction, ale or no ale. She writes out an idiot-proof map for me, and I set out, with it leading me home.
Now, a killjoy would say the waitress was just nice to me, in hopes of getting a big tip, but when I used to hang out in Manhattan, if you were a convicted white male and suspected heterosexual, most waitresses would be nasty to you... in hopes of getting a big tip.
Under imminent Sharia law, I can take four wives, right? Or is it seven?
The only bad part about visiting Knoxville? A savage double-murder brought me here.
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