Being home for the holidays is a complicated idea fresh out of college and into the real world. Many recent graduates like myself quickly find ourselves in new towns and cities that feel more like the next pit-stop than a new home. That is until that one moment when you realize you are exactly where you belong.
Each year in Nashville, a couple thousand people dressed in Santa suits hit Broadway Street for a pub crawl they call SantaCon. It reminds me a bit of a famous Halloween block party at my alma mater, OU (Ohio University, not Oklahoma—just so we’re clear). Well, except that everyone in Nashville was in the same costume and the average age was closer to 40. I never was a fan of slutty pirates or kegs of Natty, but I have to admit I missed them a bit as I was walking next to a 60-year-old Mrs. Clause in a tube top and sequenced fishnets.
Having grown up in small town northeastern Ohio, I’m used to snowy-white holidays with temps in the teens, big tires and real Christmas trees. But now that I’m a “nearly-new” Nashvillian things are a bit different. The temperature didn’t drop below 50 until late November, and the one time we got a touch of snow schools were cancelled, the interstate shut down and you couldn’t buy a loaf of bread within 50 miles of the city.
As interesting as these particular experiences have been, the biggest adjustment in my first post-college holiday hasn’t been the weather or the scantily-clad old drunk women. The most difficult thing to adjust to has been that I don’t have my bar.
Now before you peg me off as some young drunk fool, let me explain. I attended Ohio University in Athens for six years (four undergrad, two grad) and this means a things or two. In those six years, I lived in six different places with nine different people and I never really felt at home. That is, until I found my place at Jackie O’s Pub & Brewery.
Jackie O’s is always full of good people, good music, and the best beer you could ask for. The stouts they make and bring in around the holidays are just incredible. I quickly became a regular and pulled in anyone I could convince to come with me. We had quite the little group by my last year there.
You were sure to find us every Tuesday for Celtic Night and a $2 Guinness, and you certainly weren’t surprised to see us any other night you might wander in. We were rarely drunk, we simply enjoyed each other’s company and quality brews. Under Jackie O’s roof, we were family.
That’s the hardest thing to find in a new place, particularly right out of college. Everyone already has their routine, their friend group, their holiday traditions. It’s difficult to find your way in.
I recently flew back to Ohio for holiday time with the family; I was so ready to be back where I belonged. I got there and little had changed—same people who love me, same holiday traditions, same gross marshmallow salad. And while I loved the time with my family, I found myself feeling out of place. I missed my friends and my routines and my favorite coffee shop. I missed home.
Suddenly, I realized I had made the transition. Despite the occasional bout of loneliness and the doubts about being so far from all I know and grew up with, I’ve found my place in Nashville. I’m heading back on Christmas Day, and while I’ll probably pass on the eggnog with Mrs. Clause this go-around, I’m excited to be home for the holidays. I’ve finally found my bar.
Rachel Figley
Latest posts by Rachel Figley (see all)
- 24/F/Nashville: Post-College Dating Life For The AOL Generation - December 26, 2013
- Finding A New Home For The Holidays - December 24, 2013
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