Opryland After Hours

Author's Note

I worked the third shift at Opryland back in the mid-eighties. I always thought it felt..odd without the usual throng of people and there were old tales of about Lady McGavock(sometimes called 'the lady on the goat' wondering around at night. I never saw her myself, but it was no less creepy.

OPRYLAND AFTER HOURS

“Click”

The last timecard was inserted into the time clock

Sweat ran down my face as I sat on the wagon, waiting for the rest of the graveyard shift crew to get on board.

The twins, Bill and Brad got on next, each one wearing the same light blue shirt and pants that came from the park and the same water boots from Walmart. Old Mark sauntered his way from the warehouse and slowly lifted himself onto the wagon with a mild grunt, the lit cigarette still in his mouth. Gary hopped on the wagon last, shaking it with the impact.

“Ya’ll ready?”, Cale called out from the little Daihatsu, his left foot resting on the clutch.

“Yep”, the twins responded in unison, while Gary and Mark nodded their assent.

The Daihatsu shifted in the first, jolting the wagon back and forth while we hung on as best we could, as Cale raced through the old park, stopping at various areas in the park for our assignments.

“Okay, Lenny, you get 500 Area. Grab your hose and wash all the trash down the drain. Get it all cleaned up and I’ll be back in an hour!”

I hopped off the wagon, and grabbed the rolled up, plastic wash down hose, and slung it over my shoulder, while Cale took the wagon and moved on to other section, leaving me alone in the Western area, which we designated “500 area, which sat in between the Tin Lizzy’s and the Jukebox Theater in the 50’s area. As usual, the area was littered with cigarette butts, maps, napkins, and paper plates as well as dried leaves from the Katauba trees.

I sighed as I walked towards the nearest spigot to connect the hose while hearing the familiar strains of “Get Along Little Dogie” echoing off the buildings in the empty park. As soon as I had connected it, I let the water build into the hose then stretched it to the top of the hill, to start spraying the debris downhill to the drain.

“Squeak, squeak, squeak.. Pfffffffffffff…….”

“Third shift,” I thought. “Just the way I like it. No people to ask me questions. No unreasonable demands. Just the water and the trash. That’s it. When morning comes, I get to go home while everyone else fights rush hour traffic.”

I walked slowly from side to side, slowly and steadily while the water pushed debris down the hill to the grate at the bottom, near the empty Chuck Wagon Saloon. As I got closer to the bottom, the park music for the area changed to something that sounded like it came from an old upright piano and a figure crashed through the little saloon doors and stumbled on pebblestone concrete, and fell face down.

“MMmmmmm…..” it moaned

I stayed still, not daring to move while it struggled to get back up.

“How dry I am… How dry I am…”, it warbled offkey. “Nobody knows, how dry I am”

“Crack, crack!”

Gunshots? Here?

“Go on! Get outa here, you old drunk! Get!”

My head whipped around trying to find the owner of that voice. The Chuckwagon was still empty. The Jukebox theater above me was also empty. The old General Store ahead of me was empty.

The figure finally came to a wobbly standing position, and walked shakily up the hill towards the El Paso Theater.

“Excuse me, sir?”, I called out to him as he wobbled, still attempting to sing the song.

“Sir, the park is closed now.”, I said after I stopped following him. Shrugging my shoulders, I finished my washdown and rolled up the hose and walked up to the Western theater to continue the cleaning. When I got there, the drunk was gone and so was the theater.

“Hunh?”

I walked back down the hill a little and checked. The rolled up hose felt heavier than usual, as if it had been filled with septic tank sludge rather than water.

Chuck Wagon

General Store

Jukebox Theater

The El Paso Theater has to be there.

I climbed the hill again

Trading Post on the right

Railroad tracks to the right

Grand O Taco.

The El Paso Theater should be there…but there was nothing there at all except more pebblestone pathways.

“How dry I am! How dry I am! “

I followed the song to where the theater should have been and kept walking on the pathway to wherever it led.

Train tracks above

General Store

Chuck Wagon Saloon again..

“Go on! Get outa here, you old drunk! Get!”

I stopped walking.

“Okay..this is weird”, I said aloud.

I backtracked to Grand O Taco and stopped again.

Grand O Taco

Down the hill, was the General Store, The Chuck Wagon and…more pebblestone walkways. The nozzle on the hose kept knocking me in the shoulder blade. I switched sides.

“Go on! Get outa here, you old drunk! Get!”

“How Dry I am! How Dry I am!”

Down the hill, there was the drunk again, stumbling around, singing loudly and off key.

I scratched my head watching this sequence repeat itself as the landscape of the theme park slowly altered, becoming a labyrinth of identical pathways and structures.

“How dry I am!”

“Get out! Git!”

“So this is it?”, I thought. “Locked forever in a time loop at Opryland, washing down the same patch of ground over and over again?”

“Wait a sec.” I said aloud, heading to the nearest spigot.

I connected my hose, and let the spray do the work.

“How dry I….gullllkkk!. Blb, blb, blb,”

Well that was different anyway.

“Go on, Ge….blb, blb, blb,”

Two down.

Knock out the fake General Store. When the water hit it, the structure shattered like glass.

The fake Chuck Wagon. Same deal

Shattered into a million shards. I did the same for the others, washing debris down the metal grating at the bottom of the hill.

Shutting off the nozzle, I walked to the drain and peered into the darkness and waited.

“Hey, Lenny!”

I felt a hand on my left shoulder shaking me. I turned and saw the moustached face of Cale, his grey eyes widened with concern.

“Dude! You okay? I been standing here for ten minutes callin’ ya!”

I turned back to face the hill, seeing if there was any sign of the strange drunk or the voice of the man, who kept kicking him out of the saloon.

“Ummm…yeah..”, I yawned. “I guess I zoned out for a bit. Sorry”

Cale heaved a sigh and let his shoulders slump.

“Yew about ta give me a heart attack!”

“Sorry, Cale,” I grinned. “I’m fine. I promise, I’m fine”, I reassured him as I climbed on to the wagon with the others.

Laying back, I took a moment to relax a bit. “It was a dream..just a dream.”, I whispered with a sigh.

Just as we arrived at 400 area, I heard someone humming “How Dry I Am”. I looked at Gary and muttered “Dude, don’t. Just don’t.”