So I took the 10 bus from the Arts Center into Cobb County. From the bus stop, I walked about ten minutes to the apartment where I was renting a room for the night. I quickly changed clothes and began my thirty minute walk to Lot 29. Of course along the way, I stopped to pick up a couple of large Budweiser cans.
I got to the lot after passing a couple of auto repair shops and apartments, and seeing that beautiful sea of orange t shirts, just gave a warm fuzzy feeling in my stomach. I met up with a few friends and we drank and drank and drank. I think I drank a full six pack actually. I didn't even have dinner, I think that was two chicken wings and three pieces of raw broccoli from a veggie tray. Nutritious huh?!
We began our march into enemy territory screaming "Let's go Mets!" Our seats were in left field, the Coca Cola corner. Every time the home team stayed with that disrespectful disgusting chop, I would do the Broken Matt Hardy "Delete!" I would scream that word at the top of my lungs. And a few other people behind me joined in. 24 hours later, I still barely have a voice.
The game was shit. No score forever. Mets grab a 3-0 lead in the eight inning and then choke it away. 3-2 in the top of eighth and I knew it. Knowing what I know, I walked out in the eighth inning.
I had to hurry as I had essentially drained both my phone batteries and was down to 3% power. Thankfully I found my way back without an Uber. I got back and met my host, Shiam. Not to mention Chess, her two year old Pomeranian. That dog loved belly rubs. Couldn't get enough attention, but then again, what dog can?
I remember drinking a bottle of water in the kitchen and petting Chess. I remember Shiam and I talking about our life basics. But I have no memory of getting into the lightless bedroom or even falling asleep.
Then next thing I knew, I woke up at nine, I was pretty certain to miss church. Shiam didn't get out of her room until around 10:20. It was a rainy day so I knew there wouldn't be a game and even if it was, it would be delayed. So I asked her to drive me downtown and she did so.
I had lunch at Max's coal fired pizza. That might seem a strange marriage, pizza in Georgia, but I can't get coal pizza anywhere in Virginia and after plenty of meat and potatoes the prior day, I thought I would go in a little different direction. Not a good idea. Google said this place opened at noon, by 1145, there was already a 15 minute wait. I got a seat at the bar once I convinced the guy to move his damn backpack off the otherwise empty seat. The lemon pepper chicken wings were a fine appetizer. I could really taste the fresh lemon juice and there was plenty of parmesan cheese as well. A little Italian parsley would have added a little extra freshness and made the dish look a little prettier. As for the pizza, I got the fresca, basically a non meat Greek. The pizza really disappointed me. It in no way reminded me of a coal cooked product and here's why I say that. The bottom of each slice was soggy. I would pick it up and feta cheese, red onion, and mushroom would fall off the side. The crust was very thin, but there were so many toppings that keeping the slice together was just not going to happen. It was basically impossible to fold the slice. And it should've been cooked a little longer. One of the trademarks of coal pizza is a little bit of blistering on the crust and another one is a distinctive smoky flavor. This pizza had neither.
I planned to go to the Georgia Aquarium, but with my patience short, I didn't feel like waiting. After twenty minutes in line, I joined a completely disorganized mess of people trying to get in. There were lines for will call, security, and people who needed to buy tickets. But there was no clear marking, no organization. It was raining hard by this point and I'd just had enough. I knew I was feeling irritable and I was not even close to being over the disaster of Saturday night.
So I took off for the airport. It took about ten minutes of trudging through the rain to find a subway. As I stepped onto the downward escalator beginning my descent to the Marta Gold line, I was so thankful to inside. I sat in the Admirals Club for about three hours, drinking red wine and munching on snacks like cheese, pita chips, and roasted red pepper hummus. I did make a stop at the Varsity for a frosted orange, even though part of me wishes I also got the onion rings. And I made sure to stop by the Atlanta Braves restaurant and flip it off.
Atlanta has a few good features, but outside of Sweetwater and maybe visiting the DDP Yoga performance center, I really have no desire to go back.
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