Day 6 Dolly's Stampede

We arrived at the Stampede in plenty of time, and I was starving. We always eat breakfast, but lunch is usually zippo, and by the time I have my first cocktail before dinner, I am loopy and dying for food.

Dolly (or whoever commands this joint) has it running like a well-oiled machine. Employees moved the line at the entrance to ticket takers, who checked us in and steered us to an alcove where we had a group photo taken. From there, we moved along a roped lane ala Disney ride lines that rounded around and around until we came into a large holding area complete with a bar and entertainment. 

The adults ordered liquor, the teen got lemonade in a souvenir boot, and we paid scant attention to the entertainment. Ten minutes later, ushers herded us up two sets of carpeted stairs into a dimly lit stadium. Picture any sports stadium. Oval shaped. Seating high to low. The only difference was a corral instead of a field or court. The entire place smelled of horse, manure, and wet hay. Our seats were at the top in the last row, with Kim on the end, Maggie next to her, me, Steph, and then fifty-plus strangers to her left.

Me: "Easier to escape if necessary."

Steph: "I think this is going to require another drink."

A server appeared, introduced herself as Melissa, and placed a plate and bowl in front of us. She took our tea, soda, or water order and explained that we would be served in stages, starting with Dolly's homemade biscuit.

Melissa: "Everything at Dolly's Stampede can be eaten with your hands. And yes, that means you sip your soup."

She pantomimed doing precisely that and told us she'd return with our drinks. If we chose, forks were in front of us with the napkins and straws.

Steph: "Did she say we drink our soup?"

Me: "She did. We don't get spoons."

Steph: "Should we just order another drink now?"

Music played. The room darkened. Out came the horses, and we were off. Suddenly, servers appeared at the end of every row. They each held large trays, and at some signal, and I'm not sure if it was via music or hands, but they turned and served buttermilk biscuits in perfect synch right down the line--boom, boom, boom.

Dolly's biscuit recipe? Delicious. Melissa told us this was all we could eat, so I anticipated getting another biscuit and devoured mine in record time. Next, just like with the first serving, the servers appeared like dancers in a chorus line with giant kettles. Down the line, they came, ladling our creamy vegetable soup into our bowls. 

Besides a few onions, there were no vegetables in my soup. It tasted like herbed milky broth, and if I'd had another biscuit to dip into it, I would've given it a B+. But Melissa was nowhere in sight to ask. We drank our soup and then took pictures of us drinking our soup because it was absurd. 

Without giving a play-by-play, the show included horses, dancing, singing, horses, an American north versus south storyline, over-the-top redneck comedians, horseback tricks, pig racing, jousting, competitions, pyrotech flames, horses, and more. 

While they performed in the corral, the chorus line continued to feed us. They collected our bowls and returned with gigantic aluminum tins. We received corn on the cob, half an overcooked cold potato, and pieces of pork loin. Before we could tackle that, Melissa returned with an enormous container and plopped AN ENTIRE CHICKEN on our plate. 

Steph and I looked at one another and burst into laughter.

Me: "Who is going to eat this thing? This food seems wasteful."

We ate--with our hands. The chicken was hot as hell, and I was thankful we were given a fork. The potato was not edible. The corn was not from a Midwestern field. I reiterated again about who would eat this entire cornish hen and turned to Maggie. 

WHO HAD EATEN HER ENTIRE HEN, sucking the meat off the bones. 

Steph and I commented on the corny entertainment, wished we had ordered that next drink, and stuffed our faces. We got about forty minutes to eat. There was no savoring of food. If you didn't eat it when the chorus line servers appeared to take your plate, it was bagged or tossed. Last was an apple turnover dessert that was very flaky and tasty. Not once were we given an opportunity for more food, so I'm wondering where we got the idea it was all you could eat. 

Not that we could've eaten anything more. 

An hour and a half was all we got, and then we were herded down an incline to the exit into the parking lot, with Dolly thanking us for coming. 

The animals and manure activated Maggie's allergies. She sneezed and whined. We were all miserable, having shoved all that food into our bellies in that short period of time. There was a lot of moaning and groaning back to the resort.

Maggie showered, took drugs, and slept. Steph took a walk around the resort. Kim and I stretched out on our beds and prayed for fast digestion.

Steph: "I don't know what I expected. I mean, I didn't think we'd see Dolly, but..."

Me: "But we hoped she'd show."

Steph: "Or at least sing some Dolly songs!"

2.5 for the experience. We should've gone to Dollywood.