Every year during Martin Luther King Weekend my friends rent some cabins in Gatlinburg Tennessee. 3 days of where 50 people between the ages of 21 and 65 drink heavily, let loose, indulge in catering by our private chef, and nurse hangovers that remind us that we aren’t as young as we used to be. But the night before the chaos sets in a smaller group of us try and find some peace and serenity… or at least a different type of chaos. We have done a night in Asheville several times, and once went and explored Knoxville, but last year we decided to explore the one place we have never actually visited… downtown Gatlinburg.
Is it weird that in 14 trips to Gatlinburg I had only visited downtown once? I had driven through on my first visit and was scared off by kitschy stores, tourist traps, and the massive crowds that descend on the Smokey Mountains during a holiday weekend. In 2020 I was dragged down there for a moonshine tasting, it was terrible, I didn’t have fun, and it made my tummy hurt. It was foreshadowing of what 2020 had to offer. But the best way to replace bad memories is to make new ones, so 5 of us decided to head to Gatlinburg for a night and see what it has to offer.
While I was scouting hotels and Airbnb’s someone jokingly suggested that there was a Margaritaville Resort that we could stay at. I looked it up just to do my diligence, and boy howdy was it impressive. The pictures showed rooms that were carpeted in an azure blue that looked like a fever dream. From the giant flip flop statue to the promise of three on site bars and the option for an in room margarita bar it blew the completion out of the water. I couldn’t get it out of my head and proposed to my friends that we stay there despite the fact that it was three times the price of other reasonable options, and four times the price of the EconoLodge where our friend often stays. $129 per night. What the hell, we decided why not, the gang is going to Margaritaville.
I was apprehensive about the experience, but also excited because I knew that worst case scenario I was going to get a good story out of it. When the airline lost my luggage I needed to tell the guy at the desk that he should have it delivered to Margaritaville, and got a smile out of the most jaded of all customer service professionals. Pulling up we were greeted by a valet parking attendant who bore more than a little resemblance to Jimmy Buffet himself. He told me that I shouldn’t waste money on valet parking, and that he would move the cone from a primo space out front for me to self park, I tipped him for the help.
Walking in was an experience in of itself, the colors in the pictures did not do justice to the real thing. Bright blue and shining white, island themed furniture, Jimmy quotes everywhere, live parrots, and a spattering of boomer parrotheads who break free from reality to vacation in the tourist trap of the mountains on a Thursday. Once we got to the desk we were greeted by Patty, who seemed like our personal concierge. She was wearing glasses with one lens covered with black paper to make an eye patch. As she handed us our official Margaritaville lanyards with our room keys in them she told us to wear them at all times, because “if the po-po pick you up after too many moonshine tasting they can bring you back so you can spend the night at our house, not theirs.” If you’re in a customer service profession, be a Patty.
The elevator up to the room showed the variety of options open to you in the haven of Margaritaville. Meeting rooms where your company can have important booze related business retreats, CHECK. Pool shaped and tiled like a parrot, CHECK. What is possibly the dustiest hotel gym in existence, CHECK. Spa service where you can get relax on island time, CHECK. Walking maps to Jimmy’s Landshark Bar, or the Daiquiri Shack, CHECK. Room service for Cheeseburgers in Paradise, or any other type of burger you desire, CHECK. An impressive and extensive gift shop, CHECK. Everything you could ever potentially need is ready and available in the haven of Margaritaville.
All of these amenities, and I haven’t even gotten to the room. After walking down an immaculately clean hallway with white walls and blue carpet I opened the door to what seemed like Paradise. I had been awake since 4am, had a connection through Detroit in the snow, lost my luggage, waited 90 minutes for my rental car, drove 45 minutes over back roads then past tourist traps. This was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. 2 big beautiful beds (I like to steal all the pillows and put them on one bed so I feel like a Bedouin king), a full bar area, balcony that looked over the jarring juxtaposition and of a parrot shaped pool and the rising smokey mountains ringing the area. Most importantly it had the sexiest bathroom I have ever seen. It had a full tub and shower that was bigger than I have ever seen. 3 shower heads: wall mounted, rainfall, and handheld, all of which had ample pressure to wash away the stress and stank of a day spent in metal tubes. Once I was so fresh and so clean I gathered with the rest of the gang who found out that what their king rooms lacked in extra pillows they make up for with in room fireplaces. Consensus was in, Margaritaville was awesome, and we were less than an hour into the stay.
I have found that the problem with 32 ounce frozen daiquiris is that 32 ounces is a lot. These overwhelming combinations sugar syrup, grain alcohol, and ice provided all of us with brain freeze and upset stomachs, but at least the service was great and we got to take home our souvenir cups. The bartender even gave us fresh cups to take home so we weren’t schlepping giant cups of sticky residue on our travels. We had ourselves a small night on the town, there was a country and or western bar, heckling of cotton candy wine, and a pizza place where I was far too invested in an award winning brown ale.
To end the night we wound up at Jimmy’s Licensed to Chill Bar in the lobby. Here we encountered some of those people who embrace the parrothead lifestyle. There was a couple who were moving there from Pennsylvania, I mean they were moving to Gatlinburg, not to Margaritaville, I asked. In between falling off their bar stools and telling us about their grandbabies they welcomed us into the fraternity of of Margaritaville enthusiasts. The bartender started closing up and told us that she had to lock up the liquor bottles because on multiple occasions people had jumped the bar and helped themselves when there was nobody on duty. Margaritaville was a bit of the wild west. As I finished up my 22 ounce Landshark Lager topped with a shot of tequila in a novelty blender cup ($18) I realized that after all the travel I have done and all the places I have stayed I had been doing it wrong the entire time.
As someone who spends 20-30 nights a year in hotels or AirBnBs I find myself a bit of a connoisseur of cheap accommodations. Often when pursuing the budget option you are trading cost for noise, comfort, or cleanliness. This was an exception. Waking up in crisp white sheets in a beautiful room that was completely silent all night. Breakfast was disappointing, but you can’t win them all, and I did get to watch my friend who is a lifelong New Yorker and should know better try and eat a bagel several hundred miles below the Bagel/Biscuit Line. Bright side is that I did finally find the shaker of salt, it was on the table the entire time, not sure how Jimmy missed it.
I hate to say it but the rest of Gatlinburg was pretty cool. Yes there were multiple Trump stores, and a lot of symbolism that I don’t agree with. It was like being in Lake George, but more crowded. I skipped the moonshine and gondola rides, and the sheer number of tourist traps were overwhelming. I did get to enjoy a bad coffee in the sun when a woman stopped and gave me a small Jesus figurine and told me that I needed a little Jesus in my life (she’s not wrong). We did go the aquarium and there was a penguin parade, which was quite the event, even if Kevin kept getting yelled at for trying to pet them. Before we headed to the cabin we hit up a Mexican restaurant and all agreed over superseded Micheladas that this was far better than any stay we have had in Asheville, plus we were only 2 miles from the cabin rather than 2 hours.
You know that you have had a good vacation when you or your travel mates get that effervescent glow after talking about it. For months we were shooting each other margarita memes and telling everyone who would listen what a great trip it was. Then we decided to give it the ultimate stamp of approval, we decided to go back. We are dragging a few other people, writing extensive hotel pitches, and straight up bullying our friends until they start wasting away with us. We’ve all signed up for Margaritaville Rewards and get the promotional emails on a regular basis. It turns out that with the early bird discount it is only $123, and those extra 6 bucks can go to a long way towards a cold drink with old friends in a place where we can stay on Island Time, the way Jimmy would have wanted it.
Owen Foley 