FIELD DISPATCH: GATLINBURG
Day One – Arrival and Chaos
The drive in was the calm before the storm—just me and my nephew, rolling through the Smoky Mountains, cutting through cloud cover, and talking about life. A quick rainstorm hit, and I had that “oh hell, my Insta360 X3 is still on the roof” panic moment, but it survived just fine.
We pulled into Gatlinburg and hit the Tesla supercharger across from The Island. Of course, three of the chargers were dead. Nothing like a round of charging hopscotch to start a trip.
Food Hunt: First stop? A menu with a $30 cheesesteak. I laughed, maybe cried a little, and settled on a sloppy burger joint instead.
Cabin Chaos: Room assignments were hijacked by a 12-year-old. I’ll skip the family drama, but let’s just say I ended up bunking with my brother. Not ideal.
Nightcap: The day ended on a surprisingly good note—me and my brothers hanging out in the cabin’s theater room, watching Con Man on Amazon Prime. It was one of those quiet bonding moments that don’t come around often. As Bourdain might’ve said:
“Sometimes, amid the neon lights and the noise, the real story isn’t out there—it’s sitting with the people you came with, laughing and realizing you don’t get moments like this forever.”
Day Two – Bunk Beds, Bad Sleep, and the Coffee Crisis
Some places test your patience. Gatlinburg tests your will to live. I woke up feeling like I’d been hit by a freight train—bunk bed hell, pillows thinner than a tortilla, and no coffee in the cabin. By 8:30 a.m., I bolted to Dunkin for survival fuel because if I stayed one more minute without caffeine, I might’ve snapped.
Beyond the Lens:
I’ve been curious about this place for years. It was fun… but not $30 fun. The FlyRide was cool—Disney-lite—but I’ve been on better ones. The museum was mostly interactive displays, VR setups, and selfie stations. The White House press room was neat, but rolling solo meant I either paid for overpriced prints or walked away without pictures.
Would I go again? Maybe, but only with someone else. It’s good for killing an hour or two, but definitely geared toward kids and younger crowds. At least I left my mark: Off The Streets Productions is now immortalized on their Hollywood Walk of Fame wall.
The Island:
After Beyond the Lens, I stepped back into the 103-degree heat and wandered around The Island. Grabbed some bomb-ass insoles (worth every penny), and for reasons unknown, teens kept staring like I’d wandered out of a Hunter S. Thompson fever dream. Maybe it’s the brim-mounted camera. Maybe it’s just me.
By late afternoon, the heat had drained me. I retreated to Erebus—the mobile command center—to cool down while everyone else napped, watched TV, or floated in the pool. Nobody could make a plan.
Dinner & 80s Vibes:
Dinner was white pizza with an Alfredo base—not bad, actually pretty good. The place had an arcade blasting nothing but 80s music, which gave the night a retro kick.
The Great Cabin Debate:
We sat around for over an hour—over an hour—while everyone tossed around ideas and still didn’t move forward. So I did what I always do: I left. By the time I bailed, everything was closing anyway.
Day Three – Media Pass, Wax Figures, and Murder
The bunk bed nightmare continued, but at least there was coffee this time. Bacon, eggs, sausage, and that smell of fresh coffee made everything better, if only for a moment.
I snuck outside with my cup and my morning cigarette, soaking in a quiet moment before heading to the media pass opportunity at Anakeesta. We rode the chair lift to the mountain top and splurged on the Taste of America program they were running. It’s a summer event where you sample dishes from a handful of states—kind of like Busch Gardens’ seasonal food festival.
The humidity was brutal. We hit the observation deck for a quick look, grabbed some photos, and then bailed to regroup.
Hollywood Wax Museum:
This was one of the highlights of the trip. Walking through with the family, posing with wax versions of icons and celebrities, was pure fun. My favorite? Arnold and the T-800 Terminator—a personal favorite for me and my nephew. We even hit the second location: a 5D shooter game, mirror maze, and a zombie walk-through. Probably not the best choice for someone with vision issues, but we made it through.
Dinner & Show:
That night, we hit the Smoky Mountain Murder Mystery Dinner show, Who Shot the Sheriff. The production was hilarious, especially with our big party of twelve getting pulled into the action. The meal—fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and cheesecake—was surprisingly good for a dinner theater setup.
Golden Hour at Anakeesta:
Later, I grabbed my camera and went back to Anakeesta to catch golden hour. The mountain coasters were slammed, with wait times over an hour and price tags pushing $100 for two people. The night walk would’ve been another $20 per person. So I focused on capturing shots from the top of the observation tower as the sun set over the Smokies. Watching downtown Gatlinburg light up from the sky lift on the way down was worth it.
Reflections on Gatlinburg
Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge are a strange cocktail of Americana, Southern heritage, and pure tourist trap energy. Everywhere you turn, there’s another Ripley’s attraction, mountain coaster, arcade, or souvenir store selling the same mass-produced junk.
There’s fun to be had, sure—but it’s a lot. Overheated chaos in the summer, but with just enough charm to keep you coming back. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: never again in summer. Next time, it’s fall or nothing.
I can’t deny that the Smoky Mountains are beautiful, but the relentless development—more cabins, more attractions, more shops—feels like it’s chipping away at the very thing people come here to see. It’s the packaged American Dream: loud, chaotic, and sold for $25 a ticket.
Epilogue – The Road Home
We packed up Wednesday morning, tossed what was left of our patience into the trunk, and hit I-40. The dreaded construction? Not nearly as bad as we’d heard.
Of course, we stopped at Buc-ee’s—because how can you not? That place is the Walmart of gas stations, but with better food and a giant beaver mascot that looks like it knows the joke. We topped off the Tesla, grabbed some snacks, and I spotted the new Model Y Juniper parked out front. Sleek as hell.
The rest of the ride was just road noise, podcasts, and quiet reflection—the kind of silence that hits after three days of chaos, heat, and overpriced souvenirs. Gatlinburg did what it does best: chew you up, spit you out, and somehow leave you laughing about it on the way home.
