Atlanta, GA

Getting close to Atlanta, I began to see a real skyline in the distance. This was not your 5 or 6 building skyline like other cities, but an actual line, in the sky, made out of buildings. I really never planned to spend more than a day in Atlanta, because I knew that it was not a city that you could even really get a true sense of, and certainly not one that my little system would work for. All of my city encounters, thus far, have gone down a little something like this:

I find the largest cluster of bars/restaurants in the area and set my coordinates to the center of all those red dots. I then drive into the area, and than around a bit to get my bearings. After finding  somewhere to park my car, I stretch my legs, and look for an coffee shop boasting free wi-fi. I go inside, order something small, sit down and do a little research on the city. After that, I find myself a hotel/motel/hostel within reasonable distance of this downtown, and book it as long as I want to stay. Then, I use that hotel as my base for the rest of the trip.

That system has done me pretty well so far - sometimes it works, sometimes not as much. But image trying to do that with a city like New York. You'd never find somewhere to park in New York, or sleep for a reasonable price anywhere in the city, plus you'd never be able to 'get your bearings' or accomplish pulling out a general feel for the place in a day or so. My plan is simply not robust enough for large cities.

Atlanta, while not nearly as big as NY, is no small city. I just didn't have the means, or the time to give to Atlanta to really get a feel for all of its sections. It just wasn't a priority. I did, however, find an article from Lonely Planet entitled '48 Hours in Atlanta'. I read through it thoroughly, and used it as the template for seeing Atlanta in about 12. I drove through the Centennial Olympic park, I passed by 'The World of Coca-Cola', I walked around Castleberry Hill's artsy district, and I stayed at the Atlanta International Hostel.

This was the first hostel that I had stayed at because they really only have hostels in the big cities. The woman at the door was a quite attractive older woman from England. I got settled into the quaint little hostel pretty quickly before running out to "see Atlanta". When I came back, I befriended one of the workers who was there, Abe. After eating lunch, I sat in the lounge area to update my blog (because people complain if I don't). I wasn't planning on going out that night because I wanted to wake up early the next morning and drive to New Orleans, which was 8 hours away, the longest leg so far. Upon hearing of this desire to stay in, Suzy, the hostel manager insisted that Abe take me out to some bars. Since I figured I should go out and see some of Atlanta, I agreed. Before we went out, Abe let me in on the little known fact that he was gay. I suppose coming from musical theater as a kid, I had developed a little bit of a gay-dar, but Abe flew stealth. He told me that those were the bars that he knew best, and that if I wanted to opt out of the excursion, he was okay with that. Who was I to say no to getting some good drinks with a new friend, so I agreed.

We went a sports bar for bears. Bears, in the gay community, are the heavy-set, sometimes hairy, but generally larger members. Basically, if I was gay, I would be a bear. We took the subway to the bar and after a short, but brisk walk, we were at the bar. Walking in, I was shocked to find it look identical to a generic, straight, sports bar. It was a bunch of dudes, wearing baseball caps, work books, watching random sports. The only difference, as Abe pointed out, was Shania Twain on the juke box. The bartender walked over to Abe and I because he was a friend of Abes, and proceeded to take our order. He noticed my facial hair and proceeded to pet it. Almost defensive, Abe introduced me as his "Not Gay" friend, and shot the bartender a glance to back off. I appreciated the gesture, but told Abe that he really didn't have to protect me, as I wasn't too worried. Afterwards, we got some watered down beer, and $.35 hot-wings. It was just a regular sports bar, until...

Nine pm - all of the channels displaying a plethora of local and national sports synchronized to FOX. The bar quieted down, the music was cut off, and the live audio from FOX roared up: "Last time, on Glee..."

For a bunch of straight looking gay dudes, they sure loved Glee. I myself was a Gleek for season 1, but was sorely behind on season 2. The fast talking narrator quickly caught me up on all of the drama that I had missed. And for the next hour, I was returned.

After Glee ended, Abe and I settled our tabs, and headed back to the hostel. At the hostel, Abe headed off to bed, because he had an early day the next morning. I thanked him for taking me out, and back to my blog updates I went. On the couch now were two girls watching a 1988's Rob Lowe goofishly act in Illegally Yours (3.9 out of 10 on IMDB). One of the ladies on the couch watching said movie was Jackie Stanford, who came from england, and was looking for lecturing roles in political policy. She had spent some time in washington DC getting to make Amercia her home. Now she had decided that Atlanta would be her base of operations right now because of all the success that she had had getting into meetings and making moves. We talked until it was time to go to sleep. I went up to my hostel room, took a disgusting shower that ended ankle high in my used shower water filth. They didn't have any mats to put my feet on after the shower so I just dried off onto the tile bathroom floor. After getting dressed, and still feeling dirtier than before, I settled into the bottom bunk and could hear all the creaky springs sing their lullaby, like criquets chriping, as settled in, The chirping went from bunk to bunk for the rest of the night. I didn't get much sleep. The next day, I arose early and began my 8 1/2 hours leg to New Orleans.