Thirty-Six Hours in Atlanta

Friday after work, Britt and I burned up Interstate 20 between Brandon, Mississippi, and Atlanta, Georgia. The purpose for the weekend getaway was the Atlanta leg of Neil Young's Twisted Road tour. For the first time in a long time, Neil was taking an American tour. That's bucket-list stuff for me, so I wasn't going to miss it; Britt was just along for the ride.

Tuscaloosa, Alabama, appeared in the windshield just about supper time. That could mean only one thing: Dreamland Barbecue. Brittany, God bless her, had never eaten Dreamland before, so what better place to baptize her than the original location off Jug Head Road. Unfortunately (and to my amazement), she wasn't impressed. The ribs were good, but (and she was right), a little too tough. Not to worry, she can mark that off her list.

Well, we missed our turn off the Interstate in Atlanta, and had to rely on the iPhone GPS to track down our hotel from the streets of downtown Atlanta. It all looks perfectly easy on the screen, but it's a completely different perspective sitting at a stop light in the middle of the night, with masses of shadowy figures staring as you pass. Brittany never lost her cool, though, and we pulled up to the hotel -- the Atlanta Hilton -- in no time.

I booked the room through Hotwire, which, if you've ever used it before, you know is a total shot in the dark. Luckily, Hotwire didn't let us down. The hotel was great, and the bed was comfortable. Our room had a beautiful view of downtown. Bags unloaded, we sacked out by 11:30 p.m., knowing we had a busy day in the morning.

The alarm jolted us out of bed at 6:30 a.m. We quickly showered and dressed in our finest running clothes. Cousin Bev, now an Atlanta native, patiently waited for us downstairs at 7:00 a.m. Earlier in the week, Brittany tricked Bev into running a 5K race with us. Too much of a sport to feign last minute injury or sickness, Bev drove us North in the early morning light to the Perimeter Mall for the Scan Foundation 5K. The highlight of the race was a free skin cancer screening. I'm proud to say all three of us were cancer free.

As for the race . . . We all tried our hardest, but the Atlanta hills got the best of us. The course was great and the weather couldn't be beat, but I am just not used to constant up and down running. Early summer thunderstorms cleared away and left the course cool. I had a great time, though I struggled for most of the last mile. With less than a quarter mile to go, I kicked it into second gear. I had to out-leg a thirteen year-old girl and a forty year old woman to save further embarrassment, and as I crossed the finish line I left like puking. Britt and Bev crossed not long after me. I was so proud of them. It was a great way to start the day.

Bev was a great tour guide. For breakfast, she took us to the Thumbs Up Diner. So much better than Cracker Barrel. We gorged on pancakes and omelets, replacing every calorie we just burned. I loved every bite.

After breakfast, Bev took us to her side of town. She is absolutely doing the Lord's work in Atlanta. She teaches special education at a middle school in the inner city. Her house sits directly across the street from Booker T. Washington High School, which holds the distinction of being Martin Luther King, Jr.'s, alma mater (and Lena Horne's and Nipsy Russell's). After touring her house, she dropped us back off at the hotel.

After that, the plan was to take in the Georgia Aquarium. As Britt and I started off toward the Central Downtown District, we were cut off by an odd parade. We were told by passersby that it was a celebration of Jamaica. Everyone in the parade was scantily clad, no matter their girth. Once we got our fill, we walked the rest of the way to the Aquarium. After seeing the lines at the Aquarium and World of Coca-Cola stretch well out the door, we decided to just take a self-guided walking tour of Centennial Olympic Park.

For dinner, we accepted Bev's recommendation and ate at JCT Kitchen & Bar. Divine. Britt ordered the shrimp and grits. Best shrimp and grits I've ever put in my mouth (sorry, City Grocery). I had the fried chicken. Julep is much, much better.

We caught a cab to the Georgian Terrace and met up with my co-worker Eric, his wife, brother, and sister-in-law. They were all going to the concert, too. We enjoyed drinks on the balcony in the cool Atlanta evening watching the pre-concert crowd mill about. At 8:00 p.m., we entered the Fox Theatre.

I couldn't be more impressed with the venue. It seats approximately 4,000, and the show was sold out. The ceiling was painted blue, like the night sky, stars twinkling, and clouds barely visible sweeping past. Median age was around 50, but we didn't care, that just means the crowd was more civil (though it took more bathroom breaks).

Bert Jansch was the warm up act, and he started precisely at 8:00 p.m. -- Bert was acceptable but forgettable. Neil started playing at 9:00 p.m. Hey, Hey, My, My; Helpless; Cinnamon Girl; Cortez the Killer; Ohio; Down By the River; I Believe in You, After the Gold Rush, etc., my head was spinning. The concert has great, though too short to suit me. Britt was such a trooper for going; even now she can't name one Neil Young song. Neil looked sprightly for 65. He played solo the entire time, gliding from his stool where he played the guitar to a baby grand, to a pump organ, to the stage to pound on an electric guitar, occasionally toking on a bottle in between. The show was intimate, but it seemed like he kept looking for a backing band as he jammed out to some of the heavier songs. To be honest, it felt awkward watching him play Down By the River by himself. I pray he has one more tour with Crazy Horse left in him. My biggest disappointment is that he didn't play his latest cover by Atlanta native Colonel Larry Platt.

After the concert, we walked back to the hotel, allowing the perfect evening to soak in. It has to rank as one of the all-time greatest days for me.