If you’re at all interested in country music, you have to stop at the Grand Ole Opry in Nashville and take the tour.
What surprised me the most was how communal it felt. Only a couple of the dressing rooms have their own bathrooms, for example, and everyone else has to use the group bathrooms down the hall. (The Opry does have separate facilities for men and women. They’re not savages.)
The tour guide explained that they encourage performers to mingle, hang out, and swap stories, though presumably they’re not doing all that in the bathrooms, too. The Opry was nice enough to provide a sitting area for country-star confab.
It’s a big deal to get invited to be a member of the Opry, and with that exclusive membership comes one’s very own mailbox:
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I asked if that was real mail – not planted – in those boxes, and the tour guide confirmed it was. (Yes, I’m that person who asks suspicious questions of tour guides.)
The theater was smaller than I expected, but there’s no shortage of lights:
The Opry used to be housed at the Ryman Auditorium, and when it moved to its current location they transplanted the circle of wood from the stage where so many legendary performers once stood:
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Patsy Cline, one of my favorites, sang there. You really can feel the energy of all those talented people in the room.
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