Atlanta was simultaneously better and worse than I expected it to be. This was my first trip back there since moving to Portland and since T and I broke up, so I had the sweet nostalgic moments of "oh look, that's the road I used to turn on to go home every day" plus the hellish judgment of "oh look, that's where T and I had dinner sometimes! But that life is over and is never coming back. Awesome."
One of T's and my old best friends offered to let me stay in her guest room (which was fantastically nice of her and she was an incredibly gracious hostess). It seemed like a good idea at the time, but in hindsight probably caused more awkwardness and stress than I expected. More on that later.
So I got to M's in the early evening, she introduced me to her new puppy and her new (to me) girlfriend, then we all (minus the dog) went to dinner at their favorite pizza joint. There was a pretty hardcore bingo game going on which made it a little hard to talk but we managed okay. After dinner we stopped at the Target T and I used to shop at, and that was a little gut-twisting. We used to spend a whole lot of time in Target.
The next morning my one plan was to head down to Turner to see some old work folks. I was nervous but excited to see everyone again. I had no idea how I would be received or if anyone would even care all that much that I had come to visit. I really really didn't want to be that old coworker that comes back and makes a fuss and everybody is just waiting for them to go away. Luckily, things didn't go that way at all. It was surreal to be driving into the Turner parking garage like I had so many times before. I ran into a former boss of mine (Ed) and a former coworker (Justin) in the parking garage on my way up and we did the awkward 'are we going to hug?' thing. I decided that yes, we were going to hug.
I went to the front desk to check in and they took my photo for my visitor's badge, but the quality was so horrible I ended up looking quite a bit like Snuffleuffagus. Close enough. They called my host, an old friend of mine from way back (Steve), and he and another friend of mine (Scott) came out to get me and got hugs as well. They took me back into the cubicle farm and I went around and said hello to everyone and got pictures with them. Scott then gave me a tour of the campus as there had been many changes and improvements made to it. I even got to see the view from the roof! Not bad at all :)
We headed back to the tech area and ran into Lisa, another of my old coworkers who was now working in another department. She told me about a going away party for one of my old coworkers from CNN, so we decided to go to that. I was a little anxious about heading over to CNN since I had maybe one or two enemies who would likely be at the going away thing, but eh..life's too short to worry about that crap for too long. I'm so glad I went because I got to say hello to a bunch of people I would never have connected with and some of them were old bosses that were really important to me, so it was a nice moment. To my great relief I ended up not having to talk to either of my arch-nemeses.
After the going away party, I headed out to Steve's house for a poker game he was hosting. This was something we did a couple of times before T and I moved away, so it was nice to get the chance to play again. I didn't win, sadly, but I did get to deal which was a lot of fun, plus I had a really nice time talking to Steve and his wife after the game. It's a shame we don't live closer to each other...we could totally be friends.
Poker ran late and I didn't end up getting back to M's until around 3AM, so the next day I elected to lounge around all day and not do much of anything. M and A went out and left me to my own devices and I had a lovely day of watching movies and relaxing. That evening, A had invited one of her work friends over for dinner so I came downstairs to help them get ready. M let me make the icing and frost the cupcakes which, as you can imagine, thrilled me to no end :)
Things got weird when the friend got there though, not because of her..she was very cool. The weirdness came from the history that T and I have with coming over to M's house for dinner. We used to be great friends with M and her ex and would frequently come over for dinner and cards. This evening, either M or I (probably me) made the mistake of suggesting that we play a card game that T and I and M and her ex used to play all the time. Bad, bad idea. First of all, it's kind of a convoluted game and I think A was aware that we used to play it with M's ex so she was not all that excited about learning how to play. There was a moment where we were going around the table placing bids and it just occurred to me how wrong it felt for M and me to be sitting there playing cards with people who were not T and M's ex. I actually had to get up from the table and go sit in the bathroom and cry for a little while, just to get the sadness out of my system. Horrible how you can't go back, isn't it?
M and I talked a little later about it and she mentioned that she had felt weird too, so at least it wasn't just me. But that's the way life works. Things change and move forward and there's nothing anybody can do about it.
The next day, I packed up the car, said my goodbyes and headed out. I drove to the neighborhood T and I were living in right before we moved to Portland. It was freaky to look around that neighborhood...it was completely the wrong type of place for us, or maybe just for me. But that's what I thought I wanted then. That's what everyone in Atlanta seems to be striving for. Kind of hard to realize that you don't want that thing you're supposed to want once you've finally got it.
After that I got the hell out of there. Too many memories. I definitely want to go back again someday to see my friends and maybe play some more poker, but I think I'm going to try to avoid the old neighborhoods this time.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Memphis
I actually didn't do a whole hell of a lot in Memphis, but I had a fantastic time there anyway. My first stop when I got into town was the local Kroger. All I had left of the food I bought in Portland on my way out of town was some stale bagels and freaking goldfish crackers. I should have known the goldfish would stick around. It always seems like a good idea to get them but I get bored with them almost instantly. Anyway, I was ready for a new taste sensation at that point.
Kroger was a hell of an experience because the population that shopped at the particular Kroger I visited was mostly African American. This was such a change from Portland and really from anywhere I had been so far on the trip. So I was one of maybe three white people in the whole store, which I found fascinating from a sociological perspective. Here I had the unique opportunity to feel, at least the tiniest bit, what it might feel like to be part of a minority population. Even the short experience of getting my groceries at a store where I was the minority was intensely eye-opening. I felt completely out of place and on edge, as if at any moment one of the other shoppers would decide that I didn't belong there and throw me out. Of course that didn't happen and everyone was just as friendly as they would be in any other grocery store.
I had found Pilgrim House hostel online during the giant rejiggering of the itinerary in Tucson. Initially I had had reservations about staying there because it is affiliated with a church. In fact, the hostel is actually in the rear of the church. I was almost expecting the same reception as I did in the grocery store...they would take one look at me and realize I was a total heathen and eject me from the hostel immediately. I am all about the irrational thoughts sometimes. So of course I get there and the people running the hostel are entirely lovely people and there is no bible-thumping and no sideways glances at the blue in my hair or the nose piercing and everything is just fine. With no drama whatsoever, I paid my money, was handed my linens and shown to my bed.
At that moment, the only thing in the world I wanted was to wash the Oklahoma City off of me, so I grabbed my shower things and headed for the bathrooms. One of the great things about this hostel is that instead of one big community bathroom they had a row of individual bathrooms. Lots of nice privacy there. Anyway, I had an excellent shower and then spent the rest of the evening futzing around on the internet and eavesdropping on the other hostelees.
When I woke up the next day I had one simple goal in mind: find a laundromat. So I turned my phone on, did a quick search, and found Washtown.
Washtown was everything I wanted it to be, in that it had washing machines and dryers that seemed to work. The rest, like the Ms. Pac Man machine, the vending machine that stocked Tahitian Treat (right??) and the incredible people watching were just gravy. As I waited for my clothes to wash, I attempted to finish the rest of Northanger Abbey. A young(ish) gentleman walked by and said, "Oh you like books, huh? Well I've got some books at the house...want to come check them out?"
I assured him I was all stocked up on books :)
Laundry finally done, I set about finding something interesting to do in Memphis. At that point I was still planning to go to Graceland the next day. I found some information about the National Civil Rights Museum and it sounded interesting so I went to check it out. It was a fascinating experience that I highly recommend for anyone who is going to be anywhere near Memphis. Get the audio tour and definitely watch the movie they show in the theater every hour about the assassination of MLK. It was just incredible how much black people had to fight for all of the freedoms that I have always taken for granted. I mean, sure, I knew a little bit about the civil rights struggles from school but the way the museum presented the history of the movement just made such an indelible impression on me. At the end of the museum's progression there's a balcony where you can look out over the entire exhibit and see each of the individual struggles as part of this enormous whole...it was just incredible to see it all laid out like that.
After the civil rights museum I headed over to Beale Street to check it out. Even in the middle of the day there was a live blues band playing in a courtyard on Beale. Very festive. None of the bars were really open but I did happen upon a bbq joint called Pig on Beale that looked like it was doing some business, so I went inside. Oh my god that was some incredible barbecue! I got a half rack of ribs, barbecue beans and potato salad. Sweet tea to drink (of course). When they brought my plate out I knew I was in for a treat because of how simple the plating was. Nothing fancy, just good-ass barbecue. They had peanut butter pie on the dessert menu and I just couldn't resist that. It was all fantastic. So so so good.
I was a little worn out from my time at the museum (it took me a good two hours to see everything in there) so I headed back to the hostel to relax for a while. Later that evening I headed out in search of dinner and ended up at Lou's, a pizza joint in walking distance to the hostel. I had an incredible piece of pepperoni pizza and a not-so-great caesar salad, plus a giant bottle of Fat Tire beer. I was the only one in the place but luckily I had brought Northanger Abbey again. I finished the book and my dinner and walked back to the hostel with a nice buzz on.
The next morning, after much internal debate, I decided to skip Graceland. I was tempted to just lie in my bed all day and do absolutely nothing but I decided instead to take advantage of the hostel kitchen and bake something. I had been on Joy the Baker's site the day before and had seen a recipe for chocolate cookies that looked just heavenly, so I went back to the Kroger and bought the ingredients I'd need, then commandeered the hostel kitchen so I could bake my cookies. At first it felt highly awkward to be baking in someone else's kitchen, especially because people were constantly walking through and looking at me a little funny. Eventually I finished all of the cookie batches and piled them high on two plates and set them on the counter. They turned out pretty well, I think. The other hostelees seemed to enjoy them and I got a few kudos, though I still felt awkward about calling attention to myself. The rest of the day was nice and relaxing. I watched Sense and Sensibility which was much more fun after having read the book because I could tell where they had rearranged the plot or plain left out characters or any number of other horrible things filmmakers do to books. It had been a good day, if a little uneventful.
The next day I packed up my things, left the hostel after doing my final chore (they give you a new chore each day. Mine was always sweeping something...not bad at all), and headed for Atlanta with much trepidation.
Kroger was a hell of an experience because the population that shopped at the particular Kroger I visited was mostly African American. This was such a change from Portland and really from anywhere I had been so far on the trip. So I was one of maybe three white people in the whole store, which I found fascinating from a sociological perspective. Here I had the unique opportunity to feel, at least the tiniest bit, what it might feel like to be part of a minority population. Even the short experience of getting my groceries at a store where I was the minority was intensely eye-opening. I felt completely out of place and on edge, as if at any moment one of the other shoppers would decide that I didn't belong there and throw me out. Of course that didn't happen and everyone was just as friendly as they would be in any other grocery store.
I had found Pilgrim House hostel online during the giant rejiggering of the itinerary in Tucson. Initially I had had reservations about staying there because it is affiliated with a church. In fact, the hostel is actually in the rear of the church. I was almost expecting the same reception as I did in the grocery store...they would take one look at me and realize I was a total heathen and eject me from the hostel immediately. I am all about the irrational thoughts sometimes. So of course I get there and the people running the hostel are entirely lovely people and there is no bible-thumping and no sideways glances at the blue in my hair or the nose piercing and everything is just fine. With no drama whatsoever, I paid my money, was handed my linens and shown to my bed.
At that moment, the only thing in the world I wanted was to wash the Oklahoma City off of me, so I grabbed my shower things and headed for the bathrooms. One of the great things about this hostel is that instead of one big community bathroom they had a row of individual bathrooms. Lots of nice privacy there. Anyway, I had an excellent shower and then spent the rest of the evening futzing around on the internet and eavesdropping on the other hostelees.
When I woke up the next day I had one simple goal in mind: find a laundromat. So I turned my phone on, did a quick search, and found Washtown.
Washtown was everything I wanted it to be, in that it had washing machines and dryers that seemed to work. The rest, like the Ms. Pac Man machine, the vending machine that stocked Tahitian Treat (right??) and the incredible people watching were just gravy. As I waited for my clothes to wash, I attempted to finish the rest of Northanger Abbey. A young(ish) gentleman walked by and said, "Oh you like books, huh? Well I've got some books at the house...want to come check them out?"
I assured him I was all stocked up on books :)
Laundry finally done, I set about finding something interesting to do in Memphis. At that point I was still planning to go to Graceland the next day. I found some information about the National Civil Rights Museum and it sounded interesting so I went to check it out. It was a fascinating experience that I highly recommend for anyone who is going to be anywhere near Memphis. Get the audio tour and definitely watch the movie they show in the theater every hour about the assassination of MLK. It was just incredible how much black people had to fight for all of the freedoms that I have always taken for granted. I mean, sure, I knew a little bit about the civil rights struggles from school but the way the museum presented the history of the movement just made such an indelible impression on me. At the end of the museum's progression there's a balcony where you can look out over the entire exhibit and see each of the individual struggles as part of this enormous whole...it was just incredible to see it all laid out like that.
After the civil rights museum I headed over to Beale Street to check it out. Even in the middle of the day there was a live blues band playing in a courtyard on Beale. Very festive. None of the bars were really open but I did happen upon a bbq joint called Pig on Beale that looked like it was doing some business, so I went inside. Oh my god that was some incredible barbecue! I got a half rack of ribs, barbecue beans and potato salad. Sweet tea to drink (of course). When they brought my plate out I knew I was in for a treat because of how simple the plating was. Nothing fancy, just good-ass barbecue. They had peanut butter pie on the dessert menu and I just couldn't resist that. It was all fantastic. So so so good.
I was a little worn out from my time at the museum (it took me a good two hours to see everything in there) so I headed back to the hostel to relax for a while. Later that evening I headed out in search of dinner and ended up at Lou's, a pizza joint in walking distance to the hostel. I had an incredible piece of pepperoni pizza and a not-so-great caesar salad, plus a giant bottle of Fat Tire beer. I was the only one in the place but luckily I had brought Northanger Abbey again. I finished the book and my dinner and walked back to the hostel with a nice buzz on.
The next morning, after much internal debate, I decided to skip Graceland. I was tempted to just lie in my bed all day and do absolutely nothing but I decided instead to take advantage of the hostel kitchen and bake something. I had been on Joy the Baker's site the day before and had seen a recipe for chocolate cookies that looked just heavenly, so I went back to the Kroger and bought the ingredients I'd need, then commandeered the hostel kitchen so I could bake my cookies. At first it felt highly awkward to be baking in someone else's kitchen, especially because people were constantly walking through and looking at me a little funny. Eventually I finished all of the cookie batches and piled them high on two plates and set them on the counter. They turned out pretty well, I think. The other hostelees seemed to enjoy them and I got a few kudos, though I still felt awkward about calling attention to myself. The rest of the day was nice and relaxing. I watched Sense and Sensibility which was much more fun after having read the book because I could tell where they had rearranged the plot or plain left out characters or any number of other horrible things filmmakers do to books. It had been a good day, if a little uneventful.
The next day I packed up my things, left the hostel after doing my final chore (they give you a new chore each day. Mine was always sweeping something...not bad at all), and headed for Atlanta with much trepidation.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Some stuff about feelings
I'd like to interrupt your regularly scheduled travelogue with a few paragraphs about my feelings. Brace yourself.
Sigh...I'm sitting in the hostel dining room in Memphis with a gnawing ache in my stomach. I just ate, I've gotten plenty of sleep, and I'm not sick, so what's the deal, you might ask? The deal is, my next destination is Atlanta and I'm totally nervous about going back there. I can't exactly put my finger on why, but I have several theories. For one, I don't really know many folks back there anymore. Theresa and I were pretty private people when we were together and we hardly ever went out or did anything, so my experience of Atlanta pretty much happened entirely in our own house and at my workplace.
But, you know, I'd never seen much of Memphis until I got here, so I can counteract that feeling by visiting Atlanta like a tourist, despite the many years I spent there.
Another thing that might be causing me anxiety about Atlanta is that I grew up there. I was at my most vulnerable in every way in that city. There are landmarks all over the place that bring to mind moments of weakness, hurt, sorrow, and disappointment (and that's just my teen years! ba dum bum!) and I'm not so much looking forward to reliving all of that crap.
But, you know, I'm all old now with experience in life and everything, so I should be able to revisit those places without freaking out, right?
I actually don't have a third thing. I thought I did, I enjoy presenting ideas in threes, but I only have the two ideas. But they both seem manageable, see, so I don't know what I'm all twisted up about. I still am though. That is all.
Sigh...I'm sitting in the hostel dining room in Memphis with a gnawing ache in my stomach. I just ate, I've gotten plenty of sleep, and I'm not sick, so what's the deal, you might ask? The deal is, my next destination is Atlanta and I'm totally nervous about going back there. I can't exactly put my finger on why, but I have several theories. For one, I don't really know many folks back there anymore. Theresa and I were pretty private people when we were together and we hardly ever went out or did anything, so my experience of Atlanta pretty much happened entirely in our own house and at my workplace.
But, you know, I'd never seen much of Memphis until I got here, so I can counteract that feeling by visiting Atlanta like a tourist, despite the many years I spent there.
Another thing that might be causing me anxiety about Atlanta is that I grew up there. I was at my most vulnerable in every way in that city. There are landmarks all over the place that bring to mind moments of weakness, hurt, sorrow, and disappointment (and that's just my teen years! ba dum bum!) and I'm not so much looking forward to reliving all of that crap.
But, you know, I'm all old now with experience in life and everything, so I should be able to revisit those places without freaking out, right?
I actually don't have a third thing. I thought I did, I enjoy presenting ideas in threes, but I only have the two ideas. But they both seem manageable, see, so I don't know what I'm all twisted up about. I still am though. That is all.
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