By Tim Sullivan
Last month I chronicled the day that we did not See Rock City, or any of Chattanooga for that matter, and how it tested the elasticity of the Sullivan family fabric. We pulled through somehow, scarred but perhaps not any smarter. Kristen scheduled the very same activity on our calendar for the following month and upped the ante by deeming it worthy of an overnight stay. I wasn’t messing with her plans this time around. We were all in.
Our first stop was Ruby Falls, a cave tour in the bowels of Lookout Mountain that culminates in an underground waterfall. The line didn’t appear to be too bad until we turned a corner and saw that about 95 percent of it was originally out of view. By time we reached the ticket counter the woman informed us there was not enough time left in the day to see both Ruby Falls and Rock City. But we had two days to play with so whatever, CHOO CHOO!
Before boarding the elevator to middle earth, I noticed a sign warning the tour is 90 minutes long and there would not be access to restrooms. The most surefire way to make a man in his 40s feel like he has to pee is to warn him that under no circumstances will he be able to for an extended period of time. So my bladder was on high alert and what else…? Oh, yeah – Elliott decided he didn’t want to do it. After waiting a month, driving 120 miles and spending two hours in line he reminded us he doesn’t very much like elevators, never mind one that drops 300 feet underground. Kristen and Margo just shoved the two of us aboard.
The cave enhancements went both too far and not far enough. Flat screen TV’s doled out info-nuggets and accent lighting gave the waterfall a laser light show effect that lent the experience a bit of an aspartame flavor. But the path should have been made much wider. The tour was a series of short walks and long stops. We’d hug tight to the wall so groups coming in the opposite direction could pass us, chest to chest, like 7th graders slow dancing.
The guide would take these opportunities to direct our attention to a rock formation that looked like a candle or a turtle or something. There was a 2-year-old behind us who punctuated every pause by screaming, “NONONONNO!” Her parents said they had never heard her protest so loudly. Maybe she had to pee. too? We did learn that the cave has an impressive echo factor.
That evening we walked down by the riverfront, thrilled to be above ground. We found a restaurant we thought the kids would like. It was called Cheeburger Cheeburger, but it had nothing to do with the old Saturday Night Live skit. Instead, the decor was that of a 1950s diner. Occasionally, a waitress would startle us by shouting that everyone had to sing happy birthday to someone or clap for a 12-year-old who just earned his picture on the wall for eating an enormous hamburger. It was confusing and they definitely did not have a liquor license (Just something I noticed).
The next day, we finally made it to Rock City. Two days of waiting in lines left the kids the kind of wound up that usually calls for bouncy houses and foam pits but we made do with rock. While most people were stopping frequently to take pictures and genuinely marvel at Mother Nature we took to the trail as if on The Amazing Race. We slithered through Fat Man’s Squeeze like we were greased up, waved to all the gnomes and merely slowed to a jog for Lookout Point. I bought a birdhouse hat for our friend Mike, who had made fun of us for going and we were all smiles as we climbed back in the minivan and headed home.
Tim Sullivan grew up in a large family in the Northeast and now lives with his small family in Oakhurst. He can be reached at tim@sullivanfinerugs.com.
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