Saturday, March 25, 2017
Got up around 8:00 and pulled open the heavy drapes to see that although the forecast had called for some rain, it looked fine and as it turns out the weather not only today but all weekend would be perfect. Low 70s and lots of sun.
I'd noticed yesterday that to the northeast of downtown there was this other cropping of skyscrapers. I'd already known through prior research that the "downtown" areas of Atlanta were broken up between the older Downtown area, where I was and the newer Midtown section which I guess has more of an arts district flavor? But this "city" seemed way off like ten or more miles I'd say. Turns out it's an area called Buckhead. The rich section of town. And let me guess, the whiter section of town right? Looked it up and yup...80% white over there. Looks like they want to become their own city. Well just from the distant looks of it, they sure could.
More about my room though. The more I looked, the more I could see why the cheap rates. Even though the decor wasn't particularly dated, it was pretty worn out and dirty when you inspected beyond the first glance. The light fixtures looked nice but the lamp shades were cheap-looking and one even had a hole in it. The surfaces of everything were black granite with a speckled look, but if you ran your fingers across it, you noticed many of the speckles were actually dust. But the worst part was the cloying odor of Carpet Fresh. It wasn't only in my room, but in the halls and common areas of the hotel as well. From the exterior facade I'd guess this building was built in the early 70s. Checking right now: Yup, Wikipedia says 1971. So, yeah, it sure needs that major renovation. As it is now, it sure isn't what I think of when I think "Hilton."
But I didn't dwell on these minor issues. The bed was super comfy with 500-count sheets, goose down pillows and comforter, the bathroom was tiny but it was quite modern-looking and the shower had a feature only old buildings have...a hot and powerful jet of water. They didn't have modern eco-pussy attitudes about water conservation in the early 70s, showers ran full and stayed hot as long as you needed.
I was a bit sore from all the walking and standing I'd done the day before but I drank two cups of in-room brewed coffee and made my way back to the Peachtree Center. Since I did end up munching on the second Firehouse sub last night while I painfully watched Bruce Wills try act his way through this terrible movie, I bought a breakfast burrito with coffee ($8) and sat at one of the tables trying not to look out-of-place as literally the only white person among the mass of other diners.
Suddenly, just as I was finishing up my meal, a big ol' rock 'em, sock 'em fist fight broke out between two black teenage guys not four feet away from where I was. One in a security uniform. At first I thought he was the security on-duty at this place but his uniform was different; I think he was security somewhere else probably there to get a pre-shift breakfast? I don't know, all I know is I heard him yell at the other dude as he railed into him to stop "pressing up" on him. Not sure what that means.
The other kid tried to strike back but security dude cold-cocked him upside the head and the kid went down to the hard tile floor with a bang, hitting his head with a loud smack and knocking what looked like 3 or 4 cell phones out his pockets. Sure there's more to the story based on that there.
The crowd was screaming and wailing with the women all like "Oh Lordy, Oh Lordy!" I kid you not.
I didn't know if this security dude was armed with something more than his fists and I wasn't sticking around to find out. I made like Snagglepuss and Exited, Stage Left. Yes, unfortunately, stage left meant down the dreaded vertigo-inducing Death Escalator. Then I took the train to the western terminus of the Blue Line. From there, I hopped on a bus for the short ride to Six Flags Over Georgia.
Got my ticket ($72) and explored a bit, making my way over to one of I think only two alcohol-serving watering holes in the park. And, get this, not only did they ID and bracelet-tag all patrons, but you had to consume your drinks there. You couldn't do like any Orlando park (or any other theme park I've ever been to for that matter, including, back in the day, the now defunct Six Flags New Orleans) and walk around with your drink. And there were badge wearing security guards all around the bar making sure you weren't slipping some to some kiddies. Yeah, 'cause if I were inclined to get my kids booze I'd choose to shell out $72 dollars for admission and $15 a drink to do so.
I sat at the patio bar of this place called JB's Sports Pub, ordered a fairly-ok cheeseburger platter with really nice spiral-cut fries ($18) and a tall Sweetwater IPA ($15). Yes, this place is more expensive than our top-level theme parks here in Florida in all except ticket price. This guy and his girlfriend sat next to me and they struck up a conversation which I tried to keep up somewhat but with their thick Georgia accent it was like they were speaking another language.
Not fitting on any rides here back home, I didn't even try any of the more restraint seated options but I was (just barely) able to successfully get the lap bar down below my bulging belly to ride the Great American Scream Machine, a really nice ol' out-n-back woody seen here:
But the lines were sick long with wait times well in excess of an hour for anything, even the single dark ride in the park, a really quite lame slow river boat ride, "Small World" style, through a Monster Mansion. Mediocre animatronics and effects, plus confusing theming, starting out with comical cartoony "monsters" and then slowly delving into a hell-like scene with more scary-type monsters and back again. I guess to ease the kiddies into the monster atmosphere without freaking them out too much?
I also tried out their park-circling train ride but the combination of the hokey and out of sync recorded narration along with the noxious two-stroke engine fumes had me jumping out at the first stop available.
Back to the bar for a couple more beers before heading out as the sun was getting low on the horizon. For a park which had little to offer for me due to my size and my intolerance of the massive wait times, I was able to walk around it a bit, even though it was quite hilly and I drenched my clothes with sweat, it felt good to do something physical and the sights and people were interesting to see.
I made it back to Peachtree Center, grabbed a couple of Big Bufords and two chili dogs at the Checkers kiosk ate half the order for dinner in my room and saved the rest for tomorrow.
After a nice relaxing shower and my in room meal, I got dressed up in my black slacks and collored shirt and made my way down to Trader Vic's. But there was a reunion in the neighboring Marriot Marquis hotel of some black college sorority and many of them were staying here in the Hilton as well. Just as I was trying to get down to Trader Vic's on the lower level, they were clogging up all eight elevators trying to get their Flapper-looking costumed butts next door as their shindig was getting underway. I took the stairs down all 13 flights and then had to exit the building to enter the restaurant from the outside.
Once there I sat at the very old skool swank Polynesian-themed bar and had two very strong glasses of their signature Mai Tais ($10 each) to cap off the evening before going back to my room for the night.
Got up around 8:00 and pulled open the heavy drapes to see that although the forecast had called for some rain, it looked fine and as it turns out the weather not only today but all weekend would be perfect. Low 70s and lots of sun.
I'd noticed yesterday that to the northeast of downtown there was this other cropping of skyscrapers. I'd already known through prior research that the "downtown" areas of Atlanta were broken up between the older Downtown area, where I was and the newer Midtown section which I guess has more of an arts district flavor? But this "city" seemed way off like ten or more miles I'd say. Turns out it's an area called Buckhead. The rich section of town. And let me guess, the whiter section of town right? Looked it up and yup...80% white over there. Looks like they want to become their own city. Well just from the distant looks of it, they sure could.
More about my room though. The more I looked, the more I could see why the cheap rates. Even though the decor wasn't particularly dated, it was pretty worn out and dirty when you inspected beyond the first glance. The light fixtures looked nice but the lamp shades were cheap-looking and one even had a hole in it. The surfaces of everything were black granite with a speckled look, but if you ran your fingers across it, you noticed many of the speckles were actually dust. But the worst part was the cloying odor of Carpet Fresh. It wasn't only in my room, but in the halls and common areas of the hotel as well. From the exterior facade I'd guess this building was built in the early 70s. Checking right now: Yup, Wikipedia says 1971. So, yeah, it sure needs that major renovation. As it is now, it sure isn't what I think of when I think "Hilton."
But I didn't dwell on these minor issues. The bed was super comfy with 500-count sheets, goose down pillows and comforter, the bathroom was tiny but it was quite modern-looking and the shower had a feature only old buildings have...a hot and powerful jet of water. They didn't have modern eco-pussy attitudes about water conservation in the early 70s, showers ran full and stayed hot as long as you needed.
I was a bit sore from all the walking and standing I'd done the day before but I drank two cups of in-room brewed coffee and made my way back to the Peachtree Center. Since I did end up munching on the second Firehouse sub last night while I painfully watched Bruce Wills try act his way through this terrible movie, I bought a breakfast burrito with coffee ($8) and sat at one of the tables trying not to look out-of-place as literally the only white person among the mass of other diners.
Suddenly, just as I was finishing up my meal, a big ol' rock 'em, sock 'em fist fight broke out between two black teenage guys not four feet away from where I was. One in a security uniform. At first I thought he was the security on-duty at this place but his uniform was different; I think he was security somewhere else probably there to get a pre-shift breakfast? I don't know, all I know is I heard him yell at the other dude as he railed into him to stop "pressing up" on him. Not sure what that means.
The other kid tried to strike back but security dude cold-cocked him upside the head and the kid went down to the hard tile floor with a bang, hitting his head with a loud smack and knocking what looked like 3 or 4 cell phones out his pockets. Sure there's more to the story based on that there.
The crowd was screaming and wailing with the women all like "Oh Lordy, Oh Lordy!" I kid you not.
I didn't know if this security dude was armed with something more than his fists and I wasn't sticking around to find out. I made like Snagglepuss and Exited, Stage Left. Yes, unfortunately, stage left meant down the dreaded vertigo-inducing Death Escalator. Then I took the train to the western terminus of the Blue Line. From there, I hopped on a bus for the short ride to Six Flags Over Georgia.
Got my ticket ($72) and explored a bit, making my way over to one of I think only two alcohol-serving watering holes in the park. And, get this, not only did they ID and bracelet-tag all patrons, but you had to consume your drinks there. You couldn't do like any Orlando park (or any other theme park I've ever been to for that matter, including, back in the day, the now defunct Six Flags New Orleans) and walk around with your drink. And there were badge wearing security guards all around the bar making sure you weren't slipping some to some kiddies. Yeah, 'cause if I were inclined to get my kids booze I'd choose to shell out $72 dollars for admission and $15 a drink to do so.
I sat at the patio bar of this place called JB's Sports Pub, ordered a fairly-ok cheeseburger platter with really nice spiral-cut fries ($18) and a tall Sweetwater IPA ($15). Yes, this place is more expensive than our top-level theme parks here in Florida in all except ticket price. This guy and his girlfriend sat next to me and they struck up a conversation which I tried to keep up somewhat but with their thick Georgia accent it was like they were speaking another language.
Not fitting on any rides here back home, I didn't even try any of the more restraint seated options but I was (just barely) able to successfully get the lap bar down below my bulging belly to ride the Great American Scream Machine, a really nice ol' out-n-back woody seen here:
But the lines were sick long with wait times well in excess of an hour for anything, even the single dark ride in the park, a really quite lame slow river boat ride, "Small World" style, through a Monster Mansion. Mediocre animatronics and effects, plus confusing theming, starting out with comical cartoony "monsters" and then slowly delving into a hell-like scene with more scary-type monsters and back again. I guess to ease the kiddies into the monster atmosphere without freaking them out too much?
I also tried out their park-circling train ride but the combination of the hokey and out of sync recorded narration along with the noxious two-stroke engine fumes had me jumping out at the first stop available.
Back to the bar for a couple more beers before heading out as the sun was getting low on the horizon. For a park which had little to offer for me due to my size and my intolerance of the massive wait times, I was able to walk around it a bit, even though it was quite hilly and I drenched my clothes with sweat, it felt good to do something physical and the sights and people were interesting to see.
I made it back to Peachtree Center, grabbed a couple of Big Bufords and two chili dogs at the Checkers kiosk ate half the order for dinner in my room and saved the rest for tomorrow.
After a nice relaxing shower and my in room meal, I got dressed up in my black slacks and collored shirt and made my way down to Trader Vic's. But there was a reunion in the neighboring Marriot Marquis hotel of some black college sorority and many of them were staying here in the Hilton as well. Just as I was trying to get down to Trader Vic's on the lower level, they were clogging up all eight elevators trying to get their Flapper-looking costumed butts next door as their shindig was getting underway. I took the stairs down all 13 flights and then had to exit the building to enter the restaurant from the outside.
Once there I sat at the very old skool swank Polynesian-themed bar and had two very strong glasses of their signature Mai Tais ($10 each) to cap off the evening before going back to my room for the night.