Stupid is as stupid does

Yesterday I took the training wheels off Maggie's bike, at her request. Any other day, this would have been the headliner event of the day ... her motivation at keeping up with playgroup friends and success at doing so were really impressive. But yesterday wasn't any other day. It was a weird, strange day.

Wes Cowan, my favorite of the PBS History Detectives, was in town investigating a Civil War painting. I follow the Detectives through facebook and had read his postings about the parts of town he was in, so after Maggie's bike-riding adventure, I decided to take her on another adventure -- a quest to find Wes! My plan was to head up Lookout Mountain to Point Park, figuring that was the best place to duplicate the views found in the painting (which is what he'd alluded to on facebook). As we headed downtown, I remembered the hard way that my car's air conditioning wasn't working. This is stupid, I thought to myself. Why didn't I just head home and enjoy a calm, quiet day?

But stupidity sometimes has no bounds, especially when you're me, so I continued down the interstate, our hair blowing in the wind and whipping our faces. Thinking I'd make the day more fun for Maggie, I excitedly told her there were two ways we could get up the mountain: We could drive in our car, or we could ride a special train car. I let her choose - and of course she chose the train car. We arrived at the Incline, bought tickets at an automated kiosk, and then rounded the corner to board the railcar.

Along with every tourist in Chattanooga.

I'm not kidding when I say that we waited in line for an hour. An HOUR. Most of it in the sun. (Well, I was in the sun ... I took pity on Maggie and let her sit under a nearby bush while I held our place in line.) No sunscreen. This is so stupid, I kept repeating. We'd be up on the mountain already if I hadn't let her choose. I should have checked before buying the tickets - how stupid. When we finally got to the top, we walked the three blocks to Point Park and went to the park. It's one of my favorite places in our entire town - so quiet and scenic - and I hadn't been there since I was pregnant with Maggie, and it was fun seeing her explore it too. I did a double-take every time I saw a man with white hair, and I got excited when I spotted a mini-van with Ohio tags, but we had no real luck finding Wes or his crew. With my skin scorching in the sun and my 5-year-old complaining about the blister between her toes, I confirmed my stupidity yet again and we headed back down the mountain.

At the halfway point of the Incline ride, the track splits and the car going down passes the car going up. As we headed down, we passed an empty car creeping up. I thought it was weird that the lower depot had been so crowded and yet an empty car was heading up, but then we saw the tail end of the car. My heat skipped a beat when I saw two men holding TV cameras, filming two other men as they stood on the back of the car. To have come so close! Then someone inside our car called out, "Hey! It's Larry the Cable Guy!" Not the same ...

Since it was 5:30 by the time we descended the mountain, I called Bobby to see if he wanted to meet us at a nearby pizza place we used to frequent. The three of us enjoyed an impromptu dinner out, and when it was time to leave, Maggie decided she wanted to ride home with Daddy. I crossed the street alone, heading back to the Incline parking lot, carrying my box of leftover pizza and trying to console myself about what felt like a wasted day. It wasn't a total loss, I tried to reason. I did something fun with Maggie, and she experienced a couple of new things. As I climbed the last staircase to the parking lot, I was stopped in my tracks by a TV crew; I paused, not wanting to interrupt their filming. It was Larry. (Well, I assume it was Larry, even though I truly wouldn't have known him from Adam if it weren't for the excited teens in our railcar. But it was the same cutoff-sleeveless-flannel-shirt-wearing bearded man I'd seen riding up the back of that ascending train.)

"You can come on through," the flannel-wearing man said, "as long as you let me have summa that fudge." Huh? Fudge? I don't get ... oh, wait, he's talking about this little white box holding my pizza. "It's not fudge," I answered. "It's pizza." "Well, honey, if you don't want to share it, you're not going to get through here." Seriously?? Is this really happening? I'm hot, sunburned, feel dirty and gross, and I've got a 20-minute drive home without AC, and now this redneck clown wants to harrass me? I don't remember exactly what I said in response but I'm venturing it was less than polite, because he and his crew quickly backed out of the way and let me through. I don't know how Larry works or if the cameras were rolling, but if you see a bitchy, sunburned redhead on his next show/dvd/whatever it is that he makes, that would be me.

But to prove the day had its fun moments, here are some pictures from our adventure.

On our way up, we were in the very front seats, so we got the best view!

Playing on the New York Peace Memorial.

Can you believe she actually wanted her picture taken?!?

The park is always beautiful, but especially in the spring!

The sign said not to play on the cannons, but all the other kids were doing it ...

Serious about her climbing.

The view of downtown and the river.

On the way back, we saw two groundhogs frolicking in the grass.

View on the way down ...

Ahhh, ice cream makes it all better.

Postscript:  After this blog post, I shared a very abbreviated version of the story on the History Detectives facebook page. Shortly thereafter, I received the following response: "Sorry we missed you guys! We rode the incline twice! Thanks for looking for us! -- Wes". The coolness at having a personal response from Wes almost outweighs the news that my car's AC repair is going to cost us $1,100.