i realize that i’m awful at talking about good byes.
either that or i just really don’t feel like it when i’m tired and recovering from one of the worst allergy attacks of my life. demon cats. they’re everywhere, watch yourselves.
but yes, returning to the original point, i suck at good byes. i’m too much the sentimental type. so let me gloss over my final hoursi n nashville by saying that i had an awesome southern style breakfast and then waved goodbye to folks who’d made my stay in nashville one of the best times of my life. awersome sauce.
with that… let me also skip over the ride. who wantsa know about the actual hours passed on the road? what is there to know but that they suck? yet cheap… and can sometimes be less of a hassle than airplane travel.
instead let me start talking about my time in hotlanta.
i think the energy coming off of the good byes at the nashville made me less down to hang out with hostel folks. you gotta understand… i was still being emo about the whole thing when i arrived in atlanta.
and boy was i in a terrible mood, none definitely to be hanging out with hostel folks. so what did i do? i went out to the only available restaurant/bar for a bite a mite of alky. at top flr, the food was good if overpriced, the drinks were interesting, even if their irish whiskey was wack, and their setting was very new york lounge reminiscent.
but more importantly, i’ll recommend the place’s patrons any day. i always go to locals, because locals are always in the know… but no group of locals so far on this trip have been as randomly open and just generally dope as this one. i met my first new vietnamese person, kim at the bar and from there we ended up on an odd-yssey of sorts.
we somehow ended up at the house of LaFace record’s lawyer. yes, that means this dude was the lawyer for outkast in its early days, as well as for TLC before no more scrubs. like whoa. platinum and gold records everywhere.
and BALLER mansion. so if it isn’t already weird enough drinking mango rum drinks and eating pigs in blankets, dude has a pool, with a massive slide. which i end up getting to enjoy. while an almost full moon shined its enigmatic countenance down upon us. how fucking weird is that? what set of serendipitous stoner angels must’ve colluded for that to happen? how dope is it that i left that night with my contact for the next night’s entertainment?
jeebus. i have no idea how i ended up there. how the hell i ended up soaking wet in the pool. or even how i got home. or even why there’s this vague impression of having visited martin luther king jr’s house and church that’s stuck in my head. and it wasn’t even drunkeness… i was just so tired… from the night before partying, from the bus ride, from the cold i was getting.
so i slept in the next day.
you did not read about this earlier for the simple fact that i was having internet troubles like whoa in atlanta… and then i was just exhausted and already feeling the effects of demon cats when i got to pensacola. but i’m getting ahead of myself.
dope cuban food across the street from the hostel in atlanta. i recommend to anyone. good folks at the hostel as well… though i didn’t get to know that many folks.
after a hella late start, i ended up walking to The High, Atlanta’s art museum, after first checking out some local galleries. being from new york city and boston, i’m used to impressive museums… and while the high won’t ever top the met or mfa, it at least gives it a damned decent effort. i had a really good time there, enjoying art. which has always been one of my favourite past times. and of course, monet’s water lilies, which i didn’t get to photograph, were amazingly dope.
that evening, which was also a lot of fun and the entirety of my time in pensacola will come sometime tomorrow. hopefully, when i’m on the bus to norleans.
until then, i bid you adieu.
living is like a coke can, it’s bad for you, but sure is good going down.