Georgia on my mind
I'm back from a long weekend in Atlanta, otherwise known as The City of Drivers. The six or seven lanes stretching across the highway, not to mention the additional 6 or 7 from the opposite direction, remind me of Chicago's highways minus the tollbooths. But with Cool 105.7's Super Hits from the 60's and 70's, I guess I didn't mind being in the car too terribly much.
On Saturday morning, we stopped off at a Waffle House to try to soak up the lingering vodka gurgling in our stomachs from the night before. Waffle Houses, if you've never been to one, are small diners sprinkled liberally throughout the south. Their trademark? A bright yellow motif and tasty hashbrowns which you can order scattered, smothered, covered, chunked, topped, diced and peppered. [That's smothered with onions, covered w/cheese, chunked w/ham, topped with Bert's chili, diced w/tomatoes and peppered with hot peppers.] I prefer mine scattered and smothered. And lots of tabasco and ketchup, yum.
This particular Waffle House was packed. We had to wait a few minutes for a booth to open. We were led to a counter booth next to the other two white people in the restaurant. Our waitress shouted a hello and laughed as we all chirped "hi" at the same time. "Y'all make me feel like your teacher!" Four pale faces blinked earnestly at her.
After some hashbrowns and grits, we headed towards Athens, GA. It's a really cute little college town. Lots of independent bookstores, record stores and multi-ethnic eateries clustered along the sidewalks. Reminded me of Madison's State Street. The very slim chance of running into Michael Stipe or one of the Indigo gals was not lost on me.
On Sunday, we spent a lot of time driving around Atlanta. There are some interesting neighborhoods in this city, separated by long stretches of crumbling asphalt and occasional street lampposts. The disparity of wealth is pretty wide. Ten minutes past Atlanta's impressive glass skyscrapers and gorgeous houses, you'll find yourself in these sad-looking neighborhoods made up of crude houses (shanties, more like it) and big plots of open rubble awaiting redevelopment. We drove past a group of kids waiting to cross the street to go to school. No stoplights. No sidewalks at all. Cars barely slowed down at stop signs. The school's basketball court was this big, ugly slab of concrete outside covered by a rusted tin roof. A few minutes further out, you're back into manicured lawns and freshly painted verandas. It's disconcerting.
One thing the South can do no wrong is its iced tea and collard greens. And fried okra and fried zucchini. Southern food is pretty damn tasty. It's funny how my mother has incorporated it into our Korean fare. For some of our family get-togethers, you'll find a plate of country-fried steak sitting next to a plate of sesame-oiled seaweed.
I caught a plane back to Minneapolis around noon. As I'm nibbling (okay, wolfing down) a tuna sandwich from Au Bon Pain, I hear my name called out. It's my boss from work. He was asked at the very last minute to speak at a conference in Atlanta after someone cancelled. Not only was he flying back on the same flight, he asked if I wanted to upgrade to first class. As a first-class flyer, he's able to upgrade a companion if available. Need you ask? Lucky for me, there was a spot open. It was like riding in a big Cadillac. A big Cadillac with all the free Bloody Mary's you want. A full lunch! Not much room left after that tuna sandwich, but I did manage to polish off that little chocolate fudge dessert thingy. Room to stretch without knocking into someone. Ahh, so lovely.
Back in Minneapolis, it's 30 degrees cooler than Atlanta, but no regrets. The snow makes it all the worthwhile. Well, that and sleeping in my own bed, doghair-free.
On Saturday morning, we stopped off at a Waffle House to try to soak up the lingering vodka gurgling in our stomachs from the night before. Waffle Houses, if you've never been to one, are small diners sprinkled liberally throughout the south. Their trademark? A bright yellow motif and tasty hashbrowns which you can order scattered, smothered, covered, chunked, topped, diced and peppered. [That's smothered with onions, covered w/cheese, chunked w/ham, topped with Bert's chili, diced w/tomatoes and peppered with hot peppers.] I prefer mine scattered and smothered. And lots of tabasco and ketchup, yum.
This particular Waffle House was packed. We had to wait a few minutes for a booth to open. We were led to a counter booth next to the other two white people in the restaurant. Our waitress shouted a hello and laughed as we all chirped "hi" at the same time. "Y'all make me feel like your teacher!" Four pale faces blinked earnestly at her.
After some hashbrowns and grits, we headed towards Athens, GA. It's a really cute little college town. Lots of independent bookstores, record stores and multi-ethnic eateries clustered along the sidewalks. Reminded me of Madison's State Street. The very slim chance of running into Michael Stipe or one of the Indigo gals was not lost on me.
On Sunday, we spent a lot of time driving around Atlanta. There are some interesting neighborhoods in this city, separated by long stretches of crumbling asphalt and occasional street lampposts. The disparity of wealth is pretty wide. Ten minutes past Atlanta's impressive glass skyscrapers and gorgeous houses, you'll find yourself in these sad-looking neighborhoods made up of crude houses (shanties, more like it) and big plots of open rubble awaiting redevelopment. We drove past a group of kids waiting to cross the street to go to school. No stoplights. No sidewalks at all. Cars barely slowed down at stop signs. The school's basketball court was this big, ugly slab of concrete outside covered by a rusted tin roof. A few minutes further out, you're back into manicured lawns and freshly painted verandas. It's disconcerting.
One thing the South can do no wrong is its iced tea and collard greens. And fried okra and fried zucchini. Southern food is pretty damn tasty. It's funny how my mother has incorporated it into our Korean fare. For some of our family get-togethers, you'll find a plate of country-fried steak sitting next to a plate of sesame-oiled seaweed.
I caught a plane back to Minneapolis around noon. As I'm nibbling (okay, wolfing down) a tuna sandwich from Au Bon Pain, I hear my name called out. It's my boss from work. He was asked at the very last minute to speak at a conference in Atlanta after someone cancelled. Not only was he flying back on the same flight, he asked if I wanted to upgrade to first class. As a first-class flyer, he's able to upgrade a companion if available. Need you ask? Lucky for me, there was a spot open. It was like riding in a big Cadillac. A big Cadillac with all the free Bloody Mary's you want. A full lunch! Not much room left after that tuna sandwich, but I did manage to polish off that little chocolate fudge dessert thingy. Room to stretch without knocking into someone. Ahh, so lovely.
Back in Minneapolis, it's 30 degrees cooler than Atlanta, but no regrets. The snow makes it all the worthwhile. Well, that and sleeping in my own bed, doghair-free.
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