Pigeon Forge, Tenn. — The Old Time Photo Booth is next to the tattoo parlor, which is next to the helicopter tour, which is next to the Best Western Plus. A little farther along, opposite the upside-down mansion, a gorilla is climbing an Empire State Building that lacks a spire. And, if you look just past the Hatfield & McCoy barn, you’ll see a scale model of the RMS Titanic, complete with themed White Star Line loading dock and a turn-of-the-century ice cream parlor. Along the main strip, roller-coaster-esque go-kart tracks predominate — one of these towers is above my motel, almost touching the room. Mini-golf attractions abound, each with a name more flamboyant than the last. One of them is decorated permanently for Christmas. Another has goats on the roof. And in the background, looming over it all, stand the brooding Smoky Mountains.
This is Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, one of the strangest, and, surprisingly, most enjoyable tourist destinations in the United States — and I have come here, with my family in tow, out of sheer old-fashioned curiosity.
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