Hotlanta
That's what people used to call it. "Hot" because of all the industry that came to town. Also "hot" because of all the energy of a youthful demographic. When I had the chance to transfer to Atlanta, GA in 1995, I jumped head first. West Palm Beach was played out. By the end of 1994, I was thoroughly weary of this sun drenched consumer "paradise" and all of its memories. Nary an inch of the town didn't have some sort of memory attachment. Not all negative, but I wanted a new playground. "Something for my head" as Chuck Barris requested to his (imaginary?) emissary in CONFESSIONS OF A DANGEROUS MIND.
Fourteen years later I found myself back on the familiar interstates and roads, surprised at how much I remembered. I was expecting to find a much different city. I had been back once (in 2001) for a visit to my then-girlfriend's (now wife's) aunt's house in Lawrenceville, a bedroom coummunity east of downtown, but we didn't stray too far. For this past weekend's trip, we were there to celebrate that aunt's 50th wedding anniversary. The celebratory dinner was held at the J.W. Steakhouse in our hotel in Duluth. A very nice time.
On this trip, we were also all over downtown and points north, taking in the impressive Atlanta Aquarium, visiting the Lenox Mall in Buckhead, etc. I was only there for about 36 hours, but long enough to be reminded of long ago haunts. Very pleasant, I must say. In the year I lived there, apparently I absorbed more of the environment than I had thought.
It didn't start out that way. I moved to Atlanta in a January. When I left WPB, it was about 75 degrees Farenheit. The third day after my move, it was something like 11 degrees. Clear and sunny, but bitterly cold for a (practically) FL native. I had to walk back inside and layer a bit more. Another morning that first week, I found frost on my windshield, and no scraper to deal with it. A neighbor, so kind in the South you may have heard, took pity and lent me one. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the unfamiliar terrain, the lack of being around so many peeps, that led me to become a hermit the first few months. I worked and drove. That was my life. If you've driven in and/or through the city, you know what a bear the traffic can be. Even going to Kroger became an event.
Gradually, I started to hang with my co-workers and meet new folks. I acclimated. I also began to spend every dollar I made (and beyond) on Going Out. It became a hobby to find funky eateries, eclectic bookstores. I found plenty of both. Such knowledge came in handy when I had friends come from out-of-town. One of them liked the city so much, he moved and remained there to this day. By the time I left towards the end of '95, I had amassed a pretty strong handle on Where to Go, and What to Do.
Apparently so. As I rode around with my wife and mother-in-law, so many places sparked those pesky memories, just like West Palm Beach did. Mostly good things. Such feelings led me to believe that a part of me was still there (and part of it has never left me). As I've written, some cities compel me, others leave little impression. I would've never expected Atlanta to feel like another home, but it did. When I survey life thus far, it seems that this "New York of the South" was far more than just another stop along the journey. And like that of the streets in Atlanta, you never know, as you're driving along, if you're going to cross that same road again farther along.....
Fourteen years later I found myself back on the familiar interstates and roads, surprised at how much I remembered. I was expecting to find a much different city. I had been back once (in 2001) for a visit to my then-girlfriend's (now wife's) aunt's house in Lawrenceville, a bedroom coummunity east of downtown, but we didn't stray too far. For this past weekend's trip, we were there to celebrate that aunt's 50th wedding anniversary. The celebratory dinner was held at the J.W. Steakhouse in our hotel in Duluth. A very nice time.
On this trip, we were also all over downtown and points north, taking in the impressive Atlanta Aquarium, visiting the Lenox Mall in Buckhead, etc. I was only there for about 36 hours, but long enough to be reminded of long ago haunts. Very pleasant, I must say. In the year I lived there, apparently I absorbed more of the environment than I had thought.
It didn't start out that way. I moved to Atlanta in a January. When I left WPB, it was about 75 degrees Farenheit. The third day after my move, it was something like 11 degrees. Clear and sunny, but bitterly cold for a (practically) FL native. I had to walk back inside and layer a bit more. Another morning that first week, I found frost on my windshield, and no scraper to deal with it. A neighbor, so kind in the South you may have heard, took pity and lent me one. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the unfamiliar terrain, the lack of being around so many peeps, that led me to become a hermit the first few months. I worked and drove. That was my life. If you've driven in and/or through the city, you know what a bear the traffic can be. Even going to Kroger became an event.
Gradually, I started to hang with my co-workers and meet new folks. I acclimated. I also began to spend every dollar I made (and beyond) on Going Out. It became a hobby to find funky eateries, eclectic bookstores. I found plenty of both. Such knowledge came in handy when I had friends come from out-of-town. One of them liked the city so much, he moved and remained there to this day. By the time I left towards the end of '95, I had amassed a pretty strong handle on Where to Go, and What to Do.
Apparently so. As I rode around with my wife and mother-in-law, so many places sparked those pesky memories, just like West Palm Beach did. Mostly good things. Such feelings led me to believe that a part of me was still there (and part of it has never left me). As I've written, some cities compel me, others leave little impression. I would've never expected Atlanta to feel like another home, but it did. When I survey life thus far, it seems that this "New York of the South" was far more than just another stop along the journey. And like that of the streets in Atlanta, you never know, as you're driving along, if you're going to cross that same road again farther along.....
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