In this edition, Rhelda Mae takes on CMA Fest, airport fashion and Airbnb takeovers
Dear Rhelda Mae,
I came to Nashville once as a child for Fan Fair. I understand it’s now called the CMA Music Festival and is much bigger. I don't do well in crowds and heat is an issue. Worth the bother next year? Yours, Tentative Traveler.
This event has indeed changed quite a lot over the years! I can remember sweating like a sinner at a tent meeting when it was at the fairgrounds, but all that heat was worth it when you made your way through the swine barn and other outbuildings to meet all those stars! For a while there Donna Fargo and Lynn Anderson shared a booth (if Lynn’s Nacho Mama salsa is still on shelves in your area, get you some) and they were unfailingly pleasant to people.
Times are different now, and you have performers and people coming in here from all kinds of places. The German tourists are always so sweet; the ones from up North, not so much. I do not create humidity and if you can’t take it, don’t carry on in Kroger and just go back home.
It can be a little pricey to attend those shows, but I am lucky because here in South Inglewood I can just sit on my back porch and hear most of it drift up from the stadium (Sorry, Nissan Stadium. My editor tells me I need to be more specific). They seem to holler about trucks, half-naked women and dirt a lot, that’s all I know. I will confess to wanting to get schooled on how some of those girls keep their makeup so fresh in this humidity, however. I can’t go to the mailbox in summertime without all this Merle Norman running down my face like a rockslide on El Capitan. Which is in Yosemite National Park, and you should go there and see nature’s majesty before they lease it out for drilling.
Dear Rhelda Mae,
Traveling question: Why do so many people turn up at the airport in flip-flops, workout pants and the like? I can remember when air travel was a special event, but I don’t want to seem too schoolmarmish. Fretfully, Plane Jane.
We have fallen on hard times when it comes to looking nice, I will tell you that. I recently flew up North to see an old friend (she inherited a house, or otherwise would never have moved that way) and I couldn’t tell if I was at Nashville International Airport (See there, editor lady? I can be as specific as all get-out.) or auditions for a dirty movie starring a bunch of heavy set people. I am no prude, but if you are going to wear see-through clothes, you need to make sure we want to see what all you have under there.
I can remember going to football games and the men wore coats and ties, and us gals trotted out furs (or fur pieces, like this sad old fox thing my mother made me wear once I was old enough to put on lipstick). Of course, with this so-called global warming it’s hot through October now and so a few less layers might make sense. Still, personal dignity runs from the skin outward, so people should keep that in mind and attire accordingly.
Dear Rhelda Mae,
Do you have an Airbnb in your neighborhood? I think I do now because there are a lot of comings and goings from this new house. But maybe they just have lots of company. How to find out, politely? With thanks, Not Gladys Kravitz.
I do not have any of those overnight/weekend/limited whatever they are nearby, mostly because I don’t think anybody would be fool enough to rent my guest room or any of my neighbors’ either. Don’t get me wrong, I keep a clean comforter on that bed and the sheets are good, but if you can stay in a nice hotel with dependable water pressure (I am looking right at you, Metro Water Services), why wouldn’t you?
As to finding out, you could look them up online or just wander on down and take a look at license plates. That’s how we found out there was brothel two streets over a few years back. The traffic got a few of us curious, and Malverna strolled by with her dog one night and noticed they were all from Rutherford County except for one Cadillac that belonged to our Metro Council member. There is no good reason that many people from down there would be up here after suppertime, so we got the police involved. Moral of that story? A little snooping never hurt anybody, but find you a dog to walk so you have an excuse. Plus, it’s good exercise.