Last night I observed a new species in Nashville. I can’t say that it’s truly new, just that it’s new to me, probably because I don’t make it to the trendier parts of town that often. It has long, blonde hair and a slim figure; dresses fashionably; seems to have lots of friends. The females apparently travel in great hordes. And oddly enough, they kind of all look the same, like a herd of zebras. Can they tell each other apart?
There were swarms of them in the Gulch neighborhood’s Moto restaurant, buzzing around long tables. Some of their habits include: turning their heads in the same direction all at the same time; laughing in loud, shrill choruses; clogging heavily-used walkways; and treating waitstaff like subhumans. With such a large herd, I’m surprised I haven’t encountered them before. It’s possible they’ve only recently migrated here, perhaps from somewhere like Laguna Beach, or maybe State Street in Santa Barbara.
Now, it’s true that they closely resemble other species that have been here for years. And it wasn’t until I spotted a couple of them outside that I knew I was witnessing something rare. A closer look (but from a safe distance, of course) revealed they were not only “pretty,” in a Stepford Wives kind of way, but they were also drunk and mean! Imagine my horror when I saw one stop talking (yes, they can talk) to her friend for no other reason than to peer down her long snout at what she must have perceived to be a lesser animal. And if this open show of disdain for a fellow creature wasn’t enough, the drunken, mean female wouldn’t even step aside to let her inferior pass on the sidewalk. The nerve of this new species!
As far as I can tell, they are belligerent, but in a calm, socially less-suspect kind of way, preferring to spread their malice through subtle means, like making fun of lesser species just obviously enough so that victims can know they’re being laughed at, yet they won’t be able to actually hear the laughter. There really is an art to it—a fine line between outright mockery and the more insidious kind of belittling at which this new species is truly adept.
I can’t speak to their feeding habits; they didn’t appear to be eating, despite dominating nearly half of Moto’s dining room. And their mating habits are murky, though I did identify a male of the species jogging across McGavock Street with no regard for traffic.
Finally, as any thoroughgoing amateur naturalist would do, I had to give my discovery a name: the Gulch Snob. If you find yourself at an upscale restaurant in the Gulch on a cool (but not cold) Friday night in Nashville, chances are you will see the Gulch Snob in its natural environment. If so, give it some space, and try not to look un-rich. (Also, don’t pretend to be wealthy if you’re not; they can detect that, and their “humiliate” instinct will trigger.) With any luck, you’ll finish your meal psychologically intact.