Smoky Mountain Vacation

David, the vacation planner in the family, scheduled a couple of vacation days during our trek to Princeton.  After several long driving days, we were all happy to stay more than one night in a hotel before moving on down the road. Our vacation destination was Gatlinburg, Tennessee. The sun was setting behind us in the west as we took the 407 exit off highway 40 towards the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. 

WonderWorks amusement park in Pigeon Forge

Much to our surprise, we quickly drove into what looked like the Las Vegas of the Appalachian Mountains. Both sides of the street, starting in Pigeon Forge and on into Gatlinburg, were lined with dozens of zany entertainment attractions: several wax museums, Hillbilly Miniature golf, comedy and magic show venues, an aquarium, zip lines up the mountain, a Hatfield vs. McCoy Dinner theatre, go-carts, bumper cars, bumper boats, water slides, laser games, indoor skydiving, pulled taffy shops, a T-shirt store with a huge shark mouth entrance, a Titanic museum (almost life-size replica), an upside down mansion, and of course, Dollywood.  The only thing missing was gambling. I was thankful that our hotel was up the mountain, away from all the mishegoss (my new favorite Yiddish word.. as in “ Oy! No more overnight birthday parties for Emma.  I am getting too old for all this mishegoss.”)

The next morning we made our way into the national park.  As we are heat and drought refugees from Texas, we decided to drive to Clingman’s Dome, one of the highest peaks in the Smoky Mountain range.  The park ranger told us it would be nice and cool there. When the car’s exterior thermometer said 85 degrees, we did something we rarely do in Texas during the summer: we turned off the AC and rolled down the windows.  

I put my hand out the window and flattened my hand like an airplane. Like a snapshot memory back to my childhood, I lost myself to the cool air blowing on my face.  I forgot the stress of my recent research work project and the anxiety related to our cross-country move. Instead, I focus on the air pressure against my hand.  With the slightest tilt, the wind lifts my hand up and then down.  Too much tilt and the hand flips up, slightly out of control.  A level hand lets my airplane surf the powerful airstream with grace.

Later that afternoon, we went whitewater rafting on the Upper Pigeon River. On the drive back to Gatlinburg, I rolled down the car window and played airplane again with my hand.

Emma demonstrates airplane hands here in this series of pictures.