honeysuckles in branson
if i ever start a country western band, that’s going to be it’s name…honeysuckles in branson… we’ll probably go on tour with my other favorite country western band, the overall gang….
so, i have no problem admitting that i am a grade A cheapskate. i care very little about service, convenience or any other category you might find in consumer reports. i am unashamedly concerned, primarily, with whether or not it’s cheap. hence, we currently find ourselves at the honeysuckle inn in branson. that’s right: the honeysuckle inn. what you see to the right is a picture that they actually put as one of their little pictures on hotels.com. you know, it’s those pictures of the rooms that are meant to make you want to stay there. yeah, they put this. honeysuckle inn. i’m just picturing the honeysuckle inn staff meeting:
(scene: three honeysuckle inn employees wearing cut-off jorts and flannel shirts (honeysuckle inn’s uniforms, of course) sitting around a card table on lawn chairs just to the right of where this picture was taken)hank, the manager: wayne, there ain’t a person this side of lake taneycomo who don’t know that the lawn at the ‘suckle is the finest kept lawn in branson. in the 21 years you’ve been cuttin’ this grass, you ain’t missed one damn blade. so, i’ve decided to promote you to director of marketing. your first task is to put up some still photographs of the ‘suckle on what the city kids are callin’ the “world wide interweb.”wayne, the newly appointed director of marketing (former director of grass cutting): now, somebody told me that you, judy, back in ’78, did one of them photograph shoots right over yonder in the gazebo. that would be mighty fancy polaroid shot to put up on that interweb. fellers would drive all the way from damned little rock to stay here if they saw that.judy, the receptionist: wayne, ‘member, you was there. hell, i think you was the one who took the picture. you told me if i sat up there, looked all sexy like and let you snap one of them automatic picture takers that you’d kill my husband for me. that cheap bastard did sleep with my sister, after all.wayne, the director of marketing: that son of a gun did put up a good fight, but once the hedgeclippers came out, he was no match. anyway, that settles it. i’ll dig out that picture and we’ll send it in the mail to those internets people.hank, the manager: alright, meeting adjourned. best get over to that honeysuckles in branson concert before we’re too late.
it was something like that, i’m sure. (and i’m willing to guess that all three of those people are somehow related to me…) so, here we are. fancy comforter and all.
to provide a quick context, we’re heading up this way for our denomination’s annual international meeting in springfield, which is monday through wednesday. we decided to come up a couple days early to branson and cash in on the cheap amenities and count mullets. all the mullets are here in branson, whereas in springfield at the conference, i’ll be surrounded by a bunch of blue hair… (let’s just say that me and my small group of friends account for the 50 years and younger segment of the conference…) also, there will undoubtedly be a smattering of the following (in no particular order):
1. large buicks and/or cadillacs
2. the overwhelming smell of brut and/or stetson cologne
3. preacher hair
4. glasses that turn to sunglasses while in the sun (although they never work right and are dark inside as well).
5. suits that were purchased pre-1980
so, wish me luck. i’m going to try to blog each night while here to give an account of all the zany highlights from the conference (sure to include at least one of the following: a 30-minute long old person prayer story, a story about someone on stage talking about reclaiming america for god the way our forefathers intended or me getting in an awkward conversation with someone about how i am going to vote for barack obama the undercover muslim.)
until, then, so long and good night.
