Top 10 Yards of Flannel

The Crumpet Collection rings in its third year this 2011 with double dosage weekends to liminally-spaced Asheville, Carolina Northside.


Yard of Flannel #1: To succeed in fitting in wardrobe-wise on what is arguably universally the classiest occasion of the year most everywhere—New Year’s Eve—Asheville implicitly requires puffy vests, facial hair, cigs, dreads, and, most critically, flannel.

Flannel #2: Mecca of health foods and vegetarianism, Asheville’s dining cuisine is peculiarly tasty. . .one “wheat meat” burrito at a time. Even carnivores probably will have tastier luck at vegetarian establishments than, say, restaurants advertising the “BEST” Mexican cuisine, yet who, befuddlingly, seem to experience severe angst at fulfilling an order of queso and margaritas. Also, as a general public service announcement, if a flannelite native should ask for a “bowl,” s/he does not mean the piece of pottery one just purchased as a desk-deco paperclip holder.

Flannel #3: A rhetorically-significant tunnel—landmark for most anything immediately outside of downtown: past The Tunnel, just before The Tunnel, right after The Tunnel, 10 miles past The Tunnel—seems to separate the environmentally artsy vegan downtown core from the suburban Waffle House, Longhorn, Super 8, Wal-Mart culture. Such is life beyond and before The Tunnel.

Flannel #4: The Biltmore Super 8 (past The Tunnel), for all its wobbly toilets, towel shortages, frozen biscuits, and the occasional scent of illegal substances, actually has quite friendly customer service. Having stayed there twice in successive weekends, the clerk will kindly grant one’s request for the same room and, upon checkout recalls, “Oh yes. Ms. Hoover. I spoke to you on the phone about your room request. I’m so glad we made such a good impression on you!”
AKA: Should you need assistance in society, drop my name at the Biltmore Super 8, and you will be well-attended. (Though I highly recommend Sweet Peas Hostel, walkable in the heart of downtown—the crème-de-la-crème of hostel accommodation and reasonably-priced at $30/night/person.)


Flannel #5: Asheville’s River Arts District is a fascinating slice of warehouses-turned-art-studios with eclectic art and fortuitous conversation. One such artisan, Joey the Potter, self-proclaimed maker of “pots and empty beer cans,” helpfully recommended his friend’s Sirius.B band as New Year’s Eve entertainment. With hits such as “Monkey Robot Soldier,” it shouldn’t be a surprise we found ourselves raucously heralding the new year to a vamped version of “Auld Lang Syne,” followed by amoeba absorption in a flannel mosh pit cheering the new decade.

Flannel #6: Perhaps as is the case for most cities, Asheville is wholly ill-equipped for the barrages of taxi requests supplying the hoards of pilgrims gravitating to the city from far-reaching mountain hamlets in search of grog on New Year’s Eve. After 40-some-odd calls to taxi busy signals between 3 and 4 a.m. and much wandering of the perilously icy streets, we caught a ride with sober Anne—a kind soul whose grandparents, coincidentally, met and married at our alma mater.

Flannel #7: Even a cursory perusal through the many art vendors’ shops, particularly the famed Woolworth Walk (venue for selling local crafts and art), yields speculation as to the cosmic leanings of the greater Ashevillain populous. Recurring themes in the artistic renderings of this city include, but are not limited to: robots, flying saucers, alien renderings, spaceships, and general other-worldliness.

Flannel #8: The surrounding mountain beauty hugging the city is truly moving; however, the seductively accessible tendrils of roads creeping up steep mountain slopes are rather deceptive in their propensity to cause motion sickness, especially on gloomy, rainy days where the visibility from “scenic” overlooks is…zero. If such a scenic drive is attempted, it would be of considerable worth to all passengers involved to check to see of the Blue Ridge Parkway is indeed open and accessible BEFORE winding upward, up, and up to reach a only a roadblock…and an adequate space for passengers to be ill if (likely) necessary.

Flannel #9: After rainy climbs up random mountain peaks in the driving rain, there is nothing more rewarding than snagging some world-famous truffles from the Chocolate Fetish (official chocolatier to the Biltmore family) and moseying over to Double D’s for afternoon tea. The (stationary) London-style double-decker bus turned Atlanta party bus turned Asheville landmark is a two-story coffee shop: sipping coffee from the second floor watching the always-interesting Asheville clientele go by is a memorable afternoon, guaranteed.

Flannel #10: Asheville is certainly the eyeball’s playcourt with vibrant and striking stimulation converging from all sides—so much so that it’s rare to ever look down at one’s feet. And so it may not be until the end of an unnoticeably long day or perhaps upon returning home and unpacking that the foot-traveler notices a dusty, shimmering sheen coating her shoes. The glittery flakes of mica rock so common to Asheville are welcome complimentary souvenirs to take home and disperse. The aliens most likely had this in mind when they left it behind.

Most Wanted List: Meat?

Crump it Up List: “OK It’s Alright With Me”—Eric Hutchinson, “Little Lion Man”—Mumford and Sons, “Auld Lang Syne”—Robert Burns (feat. Sirius.B), “Monkey Robot Soldier”—Sirius.B, “Sick Tonight (Dr. P remix)”—dan le sac Vs scroobius Pip

Peace out Brussels Sprouts.

(This issue of “The Crumpet Collection” is brought to you in part by: Melissa, Nicole, Danae, Kimmy, Kelli, Joey the Potter, Alex the Dread, “Put Your Pants On” Reid, Sirius.B, Anne, Sweet Peas Hostel, Martha—reservations specialist at the Biltmore Super 8, the Mellow Mushroom TV coordinator, the hazelnut latte maker at Double D’s, the yarn shop alpacas, and the dapper mystery gentleman who smoothly bequeathed his parking stub. Until we meet again, Happy Trails!)

Keep it flashy, Ashy.