Yesterday I mentioned that we ran into a situation involving a campground that we've never seen before. As it turned out, Tennessee had another, bigger quirk that came to our attention the following day.
Apparently it is illegal in Tennessee to take your dogs into the woods.
I know, bonkers.
Now I've heard of beaches that didn't allow dogs on them, and okay, I get that they don't want to deal with poop piles on the sand, but never a place that prohibited leashed puppers from being in the forest.
Since it would not have crossed our minds to even check on such a thing, Lucy got to go where no dog has been before. At least not for many, many years.
Perhaps if we had jumped on the trail where it officially began, there would have been a sign, but we've always been the type to stray from the beaten path;
the ones who cut across the grass.
I've been this way my entire life and even clearly recall the first time I realized that it set me apart.
It was somewhere around the second week of my freshman year of college. I had just returned from grabbing lunch and was walking across the expansive lawn when someone called my name.
I turned to see a dozen or so kids who were also heading to the front doors, but taking the long way around by means of the paved path.
I was struck by how they looked in that moment, moving in twos, almost a coordinated formation. And despite my pause I reached the steps a good minute ahead of them so I had time to observe their advance.
Also time to glance around the perimeter and see if there was a sign I'd never noticed, a "keep of the grass" sign or something like it.
Not that if there had been it would have deterred me, but at least it would have better explained everyone else's behavior.
But no, no sign to be seen, just grass and a few trees.
The one who had called out reached me first and I had to ask.
Had to.
"Why walk the path when it's way faster to cross the lawn?"
She looked startled then perplexed, as if this had never occurred to her. Which was doubly strange as she obviously saw me doing it.
After a second she shrugged and said, "I was just following them I guess," nodding toward the pairs as they reached us.
After this I started watching people, a lot, and every once in awhile I'd see someone coming across the grass and think That dude/chic is a kindred.
In fact one of those rebels is a friend to this day.
Anyway, back to Tennessee.
As was our M.O. we entered the trees at a random point, and may never have learned about such a nonsensical statute if not for crossing paths with a "helpful" hiker.
According to Mr. Helpful, we were Breaking The Law (this said with pinched consternation) and if we were caught we were looking at a five hundred dollar fine.
After absorbing the information, which took a few seconds to compute, we thanked him for the warning and decided to exit the path in the same fashion we had entered...
...Just in case there were rangers in the parking lot, (also just in case pompous pinch face decided to point us out to said ranger).
Happy to report we made it out unscathed, and all's well that ends well as they say!