I’ve lived in Johnson City for two and some odd years, and I still can’t find anything to do.
Anything worthwhile, that is.
Bars and head shops … these places don’t interest me, at least not beyond trying to understand the fascination people have with them. I’m not a drinker or a drug user so maybe I’m limiting myself in that regard, but so be it, I like my organs without rot.
When I first moved here with my fianc, he and I tried out one of the local movie theatres, and we haven’t been back since. After two hours in uncomfortable seats, watching a too small screen littered with holes we decided that the 40-minute drive to Bristol was worth it just to watch a movie in a decent theatre.
I know there are a couple theatres in Johnson City, perhaps one of the others is better, but I just can’t bring myself to pay the money to find out. I’m cheap, what can I say?
I know what you’re thinking.
Randi, if it’s that bad get off your lazy behind and see what’s out there, see the glory that is this town.
That or the old American standby: if you don’t like it here, leave.
My left foot.
This is a college town and it seems the most exciting thing around beyond laughing at the people on television caught in drug busts are the cows that graze the sides of the highways – and they are often more depressing than exciting.
The shopping, if you can call it that, is limited to a few decent stores and whole lot of overpriced junk. The mall has a plethora of teenyboppers, far too many “I’m so white it’s not funny” stores and of course, Hot Topic.
That is to say, it’s somewhat lacking in shops for those of us who aren’t interesting in purchasing $50 tank tops or wrist cuffs emblazoned with anarchy symbols.
I guess some of us just aren’t cool enough to want to wear bondage pants or IZOD.
There are not a whole lot of specialty stores in town, not that I’m aware of anyway (and I have to admit, I haven’t gone out on a great quest for them.) Downtown Johnson City, where a person would think to look for little shops, feels more dirty than charming.
On the occasions I’ve had to drive through, I’ve seen more plasma donation centers and bars than anything else.
I have no problem with plasma centers, in a town this chock-full of medical professions it’s understandable, but when most of the people going in to them look like they got lost on the way to the methadone clinic, I’m a bit wary.
There is a rehab center around, and what I’ve been told is a mental institution of sorts (I have personally seen neither so if I’m wrong, blame my sources) but something tells me you have to have a problem before they’ll let you hang out in them.
Alas, while I’m sure addicts and (pardon my un-PC-ness) loonies are fascinating, I would rather not join their ranks in order to relieve my boredom.
Yes, yes, I know. I’m whining, but you know what, I have that right, thank you Mr. Jefferson and company.
I’m here in Johnson City not because I like Tennessee, but because I like my school. I have nary a complaint about ETSU (okay I do think it’s lame that we have to pay for a required school mailbox) and generally I enjoy the time I spend on campus.
I’m not from here, and as soon as I graduate I plan to leave, but while I’m here in BFE, I would like something to do. I would have to imagine there are others like me around – actually, I know there are.
I will admit Johnson City does have a few nice tid-bits. There’s a Barnes & Noble, a godsend to those of us who enjoy literature rather than suffer through it, and a Best Buy is in the works.
A Starbucks sits down the street from Olive Garden and believe it or not, there’s a Natural Foods Market in this cow-eating happy town. Granted, none of these places does a thing for boredom, but it does keep Johnson City from being renamed Hell.
The scenery is pretty. That’s what I keep telling myself anyway. A person could never get views like these in a metropolis – the buildings with all the interesting things would get in the way. And that helps. A little.
I have met people since I moved here who have told me they’ve lived here all their lives and they usually say they hate it here and that it’s boring. Yet when I ask where they’re moving to after graduation I get looks ranging from mystified to angry – as if assuming they’d leave was on par with human sacrifice.
Maybe it’s the world traveler in me that finds it so amusing that people seem to forget there is a world out there from which to derive inspiration.
Beyond the city limits, beyond the state line, hell beyond the Atlantic (or Pacific if you prefer going west) there is more. More towns, more states more countries and in almost every one, more stuff to do.
Out there, there are amusement parks, music scenes that would make you pee yourself and whole city districts full of nothing but culture shifts at every turn.
Here there are five bazillion country stations and a penchant for mullets.
Out there is a whole world of anything and everything. In Johnson City there are … cows.
I rest my case. Writer’s note: Anyone with better knowledge of this town who would like to enlighten me about things to do, or anyone with something to say to me (good or bad) about my columns, please feel free to write me at mohawktown@hotmail.com.
Just don’t send me spam, I will be forced to hunt you down and beat you with my shoes.

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