I was sipping on a Grain Belt in a bit of a dive on Lake Street in Minneapolis the other night, listening to a man play the banjo and watching a woman dance Appalachian style, when I found myself thinking about the day I almost met Dolly Parton.
A few years ago, I found myself in Pigeon Forge.
I suppose one doesn’t just find oneself in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, you go there with deliberation. I found myself in Pigeon Forge, because I was heading to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
Great Smoky Mountains National Park
