Atlanta
Up before the dawn, gone with the wind, dawn breaking over a sultry September airport departure made me remember going to the Austin airport half-dressed. Shoulder bag with a laptop, signage, and so forth, then, my customary suitcase.
With mixed mirth and mild merriment, there was a time — or two — I would arrive at the tony and tawny new Austin airport with boots and socks in hand, single bag slung over my shoulder, and, more than one January morning, the studs for my tux shirt and cuff links, still in my carry-on luggage, waiting to fully dress until after I made it through security screening.
No reason to dress twice.
It’s the odd travelogue memory that surfaces, years spent commuting across the greater Southwest, bouncing from town to town, journeyman astrologer — from Austin.
Atlanta
Pretty sure I’ve connected through Atlanta a time or two. This was for a season-ending series of home games for the Braves versus the Reds. Braves already clinched a playoff spot shutting out the Astros in Houston which calls into question the Astros management itself.
I was reading a baseball book about the Chicago Cubs and Wrigley Field, a personal favorite.
“and as sportscaster Red Barber once said, baseball is dull only to dull minds.” Page 161
First glance, Atlanta looks a lot like Houston, felt like it, too, hot, sticky, tall pine trees.
The Lyft driver acknowledged that the Atlanta drivers sound a lot like native Texas drivers, too. One hint of precipitation, and they all start sliding off into the ditches.
“My first winter here, they got ice and snow, and they can’t drive? All of a sudden — man, that’s crazy.”
Atlanta
Garden and Gun Club
(no membership required)
I’ve seen links, posts, and there’s a media feed I looked at, briefly, same name. Thought it was some kind of magazine (like) periodical, but that was probably just a media outreach, same name. But the restaurant itself was plush, stately, elegant. So for lunch, one morning, just seemed like the thing to do, try a completely different kind of dining. I mean, most of what is around a ball park is ball park food.
It was advertised as “Lobster sliders,” sounded good, but looked, to me, just like a Boston Lobster roll. Good, no question, nice cool chunks of lobster claw. Delicious, and we can pretend, healthy. The other crowning achievement was a deviled egg with crystallized oysters on top. I might have the name wrong, but I think it was called crystallized oysters, and that was a pair of minuscule fried oysters, topping a truffled deviled egg, served lengthwise.
Atlanta
Perhaps one of the best T-shirts I saw? Remember, it’s Atlanta during the faux-fall, a mom-like person escorting daughter-like person, and the mom’s shirt? “I only raise ballers,” with an image of a baseball. The kid? A Cincinnati Reds striped jersey, instead of a player’s name across the back? “Reds head.”
Atlanta
The way something is described on TV, the showmanship about certain baseball cuisine? Doesn’t add up when I’m standing in the concourse at the ballpark itself. Last spring, in Boston’s Fenway, the ballpark franks lived up to a new standard. Not even sure what happened, maybe I just got lucky with the left field gate, under the stands, just past the third base line. Surpassed my most recent experience in Chicago, for sure.
After a tour of the food courts at Atlanta’s Battery, it was clear that some of the promised products weren’t nearly as appealing, not in real life. However, to be fair, the $50 “Tomahawk” steak (thing) was up to $125, and really too pricey for my tastes in ball park food. I settled for a normal “Braves,” or “Los Bravos” hot dog: foot long, with onions, chili, cheese, on top, the bare ends of the dog itself sticking out at their individual terminus points. It was a meal unto itself. Good enough.
Hotdog at the ballgame
Part of that was a fried chicken sandwich dressed with peaches, pickles, and hot sauce. Turned out to be surprisingly delicious and no items I would place together. Remarkably refreshing.
“Food’s way better.”
Atlanta
Headed to the Atlanta Airport, early morning ride and all, another Austin airport memory surfaced, about the shuttle shuffle,. Think this is mentioned in part in an older horoscope, too. Or the old weblog? Gone are the days when a large Bowie Knife, think Roman short sword, long gone are the days when that was acceptable in carry-on luggage.
9:00 AM shuttle to West Texas, Saturday morning. Got the airport around 7:30, flying on a frequent flyer free ticket. Did not have the requisite piece of paper that proved the flight was free, and had to catch a cab home, fetch the ticket, and then get back the airport. Didn’t have time to check my bag, just threw the suitcase on the security belt, ran through the metal detector, collected the laptop and suitcase, and hustled to the gate.
Get to the hotel, might’ve been couch-surfing, but I found a flat, folding knife, my usual carry, in the bottom of the suitcase. Just an accident, and one I won’t repeat. I am much more careful with the increased security these days.
Atlanta
•Boston by day — Fenway
•Wrigleyville — Wrigley Field
•Dallas at night — Ranger Stadium
- A nice little place on the north side. Will, George F. NY: Crown, 2015. ↩
