We began with breakfast at the Black Rifle. I couldn't decide what to drink, so I got a coffee and a tea to accompany my egg croissant.
The weather was cloudy and drizzling, but we were determined to forge on in Pigeon Forge with a mountain trip. Steph said she wanted to see some wildlife, especially a bear, and I had a few minutes of panic. Visions of us meeting face-to-face with a black bear left me weak. I added that to Kim and Cara's list of reasons why we shouldn't hike far into the mountains, while Steph added find mountain wildlife to our To-Do list.
Nevertheless, we headed toward the mountains. Steph drove. I navigated, and by that, I mean I set up the GPS destination and pointed out the welcome center, suggesting we start there.
While Maggie shopped, I stood and listened to the ranger explaining safety and hiking tips to a woman and a man. I'd researched some mountain areas, like those you could drive through and those suitable for short hikes, and he pointed them out on a large map. He had a lot to say, and by the time we left the center, my brain was fried. I should've taken notes.
We got into the BMW, drove out of the parking lot, and almost reached the park entrance when Steph piped up.
Steph: "I don't want to worry anyone, but my instrument panel just went totally black."
I was in the passenger seat, glanced over, and sure enough, a black screen. No information on speed or gas. Nothing. Nada. Steph pulled into a turnaround, and we all stared at it as if the answer would magically appear, like on the panel itself.
It didn't. But this did.
So we pushed a few buttons, and I swiped through the car manual, searching that odd icon and anything and everything about the instrument panel.
Everything told us we needed to get this issue fixed by an authorized dealer. The nearest BMW dealership was in Knoxville. Since we weren't in Knoxville, we called a few other places and inquired as to whether they had any bright ideas and/or if they could help us.
Not today, they couldn't.
So, we headed back to our unit to switch cars, and then we drove across the road to ask Wyndham employees if they knew of a good mechanic. We lucked out there. Tysin grabbed us as we walked inside, and not only was he hilarious, but he was damn helpful. He gave Steph his car mechanic and number and recommended restaurants and local areas.
Steph made an appointment with the mechanic for the next day, as well as with the BMW dealership in Knoxville, and we headed out to explore Sevierville, home of Dolly Parton. The weather was still overcast and rainy, but the scenery was lovely.
We took stock of places we could investigate and sat on the main drag through traffic light after traffic light. Getting anywhere fast in Sevierville or Pigeon Forge is not possible. Any place less than a mile from our resort took us half an hour or longer.
Since we missed lunch, we opted for an early dinner and headed to Downtown Flavortown, a Guy Fieri restaurant that told us it was 43,000 square feet of food and fun.
It was a glorified Chuckey Cheese with arcade games, black lighting, and dazzling, blinking lights that led us to the bar after Steph doled out $30 in tokens for the kid in our group.
Well, that and the wait for dinner was forty-five minutes.
We found a place at the bar and drummed our fingers. Kim headed off to the restroom. The bartender was in no hurry, and when he finally got his surly self to us, Steph and I ordered drinks from a menu we found sitting further down from us. I had a tattooed mojito. Steph had a thyme and honey G&T.
We didn't think there was much alcohol, and we downed those before Kim returned. Then we waited for the damn bartender to return. When he didn't, I grabbed a female bartender, who was WAY nicer. Steph and I switched from fancy, and I was pleased when I discovered they carried my favorite rum. I had two glasses of rum and coke.
We spent the time drinking and chatting until Maggie blew through the $30. By then, everyone was starving. Steph and I realized liquor had been in our first drinks, and we'd gone over the forty-five-minute wait time. Steph complained, and we were immediately seated in an area with plenty of empty tables.
Apparently, they needed more servers.
We ordered some Trashcan Nachos and Bourbon Brown Sugar BBQ chicken wings to start us off. And water. I had just taken a big gulp from my glass when someone, I don't remember who, said something funny. I tried. I really wanted to hold it in, but I couldn't. I spewed water all over the table and maybe all over Maggie, and then I laughed until I cried.
When I decided to head to the restroom, Steph sent Maggie to make sure I made it there in one piece.
Note to self: Must not drink on an empty stomach.
Maggie and I weaved through the arcade and the crazy blinking lighting to the bathroom. She waited outside, and when I returned, I asked her very loudly why she was there and told a group of teenagers this kid was following me.
Or so Maggie says. I don't remember that part.
The nachos came, and we devoured them. DELICIOUS. We had barely gotten through them when our dinners arrived. We inquired as to where the damn wings were, and that's when our server explained how crazy it was here at Guy's 43,000 square feet of food and fun.
Behind closed doors, there are not enough servers and kitchen staff.
Still, those in the kitchen COULD COOK. Every single thing I tried was perfection. I had the buffalo chicken flatbread, and then I ate most of the chicken wings. That bourbon brown sugar BBQ sauce? TO DIE FOR!
Seriously, highly recommend this restaurant. We all gave it high marks.
The rain had stopped when we left, and I was sober once again. We returned to the resort, got comfortable, and played more games. A plan was made for Steph to go to Tysin's mechanic first, and if he couldn't help, she would drive into Knoxville, and we would follow later, depending on what happened.
While we were working this out, Maggie's airbed slowly deflated while she lay on it. Since she had to run and jump on it to even get atop of it, I wasn't surprised. She, however, wasn't concerned. She found the hole and set about repairing it with pink duct tape she'd brought with her in her magic backpack. If only she could've repaired the BMW instrument panel.
Then again, after an hour of taping and retaping with my help, the bed did not hold.
May tomorrow hold up better.
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