Atlanta’s motto should be: “Atlanta — What Can You Do?”
Two days were plenty to get a sense that I wouldn’t be able to fit into the city. I’m sure lifelong residences swear it’s the greatest city in America, and bully for them.
I had this internal debate at which city has the biggest preppie/post-fraternity brother dickheads — Boston, NYC or Atlanta. I have ample evidence that ATL is pulling in from behind. Case in point … Sweetwater Brewery on a Friday night at 7pm.
I see about one and half women in a sea of backward hat-wearing dude bros.
This is indicative of Atlanta traffic, you’re going to be stuck in a crowd by yourself with no place to go. Yes, it’s Friday, there’s going to be traffic, but on a Saturday at 8am! Where are you people going? I’m just trying to get donuts.
I had two things on my agenda that I didn’t get to because I just gave up. I would have liked to have visited the Museum of Civil Rights, which is next door to the World of Coke. After my Coke visit, I was walking over to the Museum and there were a sea (and I’m not exaggerating) of 100 to 125 people all wearing the same t-shirt blocking the ticket the booth. The t-shirt — Johnson Family Reunion 2017. I think it was every Johnson living in Atlanta. In any event, I couldn’t figure out if there were just standing there in line or waiting for something. There was one person at the ticket booth. They might all be still there for all I know. I gave up.
Plan two, visit Atlanta’s modern art museum, The High Art. Well, it’s open for a whopping 7 hours — closing at 5pm. I get my car, follow the GPS, 12 minutes, I’m looking for the building. I don’t see any signs. Next thing I know, I can’t make a left or right, have no choice but to go forward. Forward is onto the highway, loaded with traffic.
I gave up and went back to Athens. More on that later.