So obviously within the first week of blogging, I’ve already failed at updating daily. But I have a good excuse, I swear! I have to say that I rarely ever have problems flying. Moreover, the only times I’ve had problems flying have been with U.S. Air which was a disaster trying to get home after a grad school interview. It was their plane that needed maintenance so they bumped me to the next day but did zero for me. No food voucher, no stay at the hotel at the airport, nothing. Nada. Zippo. Instead it was, “Well, you should go back into the city and stay with someone…” which of course was impossible considering I didn’t KNOW anyone in Boston at the time. Since then, I’ve had several people tell me that U.S. Air has a very corporate attiude when it comes to their customers and flights – “You’ll fly when it’s convenient for us, and you’ll like it!” Thanks a bunch U.S. Air. Your one-time stunt helped me never to want to fly on your craptastical airline ever again.
That being said, this weekend wasn’t really any better. After spending a week on the Isle of Palms in lovely Charleston, SC with my parents (who have found a house that they like, though I don’t really see it as a vacation home but as more of a second home - if they want to do that, I suppose it’s fine, but I would never justify spending that kind of money for the house that they’re considering) I was all set to fly back to Boston. Although the trip was technically a vacation, I was actually looking forward to getting back to Beantown. Thanks to my existential crisis as of late, I actually prefer not to be left alone with a lot of time to myself and to my thoughts. All that seems to accomplish is to get me started on an endless loop of what-ifs and maybes about life that only provoke and self-perpetuate anxiety. Apparently throwing myself into work is now my mental vacation – FML. At any rate, as I was saying before I pulled a little raincloud overhead, I was good to go to fly back to Boston, had a nice seafood lunch, got to the airport, said goodbye to my family, and headed through security.
From the time that I checked-in to the time that I got to the gate, the flight had been delayed by 30 minutes. Although irritating, it wasn’t the end of the world. I’d left a little over an hour for my layover at the Atlanta airport, and although Atlanta can be a madhouse, it should have still been easy enough to make my connecting flight. Until of course, the storm of DOOOOOM appeared (extra letters and caps lock have been added here for emphasis and may not be suitable for those under 13). As we were sitting on the runway to take off, we were informed that due to bad weather in Atlanta, incoming flights were having their departure times scheduled from Atlanta to control incoming traffic. While the delay there would have made me miss my original connecting flight, I had already checked to make sure there was another, just in case. So, off we went to Atlanta – whoosh! – only to be forced into a holding pattern (over the city once we got there, mind you) until the weather cleared. The problem then became (as if there weren’t enough already) that the plane was too small to hold enough fuel to circle for too long. Apparently the storm hovered just long enough to force us back to Charleston. That’s right. I was actually OVER the city of Atlanta and had to fly BACK to Charleston where I started from. Oy.
Now, at this point, the trip had already turned into a bona fide fiasco. How could it possibly get any worse you might ask? What could it possible take to make the day into a certified debacle? After getting back to Charleston, there was an entire plane full of people waiting to talk to two gate agents about moving and getting on different flights. Halfway through that line, they announced that all 3 of the Atlanta flights for that evening would now be able to back to Atlanta since they’d been refueled and the weather had let up. That sounds great right?! Except, oh wait, by that time, I would have gotten to Atlanta 15 minutes after the last flight to Boston would have left for the evening. At this point, I found the whole thing too ridiculous to be angry at. I just had to laugh and walk in circles for about 2 minutes while I tried to figure out how to remain sane. Then, I got to talk to the gate agent. Joy. What did that all-knowing, all-powerful gate agent have to tell me? I couldn’t get on a flight to Boston until at least Sunday. That’s right. It was Friday night at 8:30 p.m., I was back in the place I’d started after circling around the city I was supposed to be in, and now I couldn’t get back until over 48 hours later.
Because of the nature of the Charleston airport, Delta really only services two major cities, Atlanta and New York at LaGuardia. The flights to Boston out of those cities, though, were all booked. Fan-fucking-tastic. Even worse? I thought I’d turn the layover into a chance to see some people in Atlanta – and the gate agent told me it wasn’t possible to do a layover that wasn’t on the same day. This is, of course, preposterous. Although making the layover more than say 8 or 9 hours is unusual, I’d seen people change their flights to have 2 or 3 days layover in front of my very eyes. And here I was unable to get home for at least 48 hours, and a huffy, blonde gate agent was going to try and tell me that I couldn’t do something that I’d seen other people flying on Delta do right in front of me? Oh. Hell. No. You better know that I went on all-out only-child-gay-guy-bitch fit. And it worked. Don’t mess. Got it?
Basically from there, I went back to the condo for the night with my parents and got up less than 6 hours later to catch my flight to Atlanta. I booked a pretty nice hotel downtown for a relatively cheap amount (Hyatt Place in case you’re interested – I booked it through Travelocity and it was about $100 a night with a king-sized bed, giant TV, couch, and the staff was great)
I also rented a car through Enterprise and ended up with a new black Mustang convertible. Suhweet!
Now that I’ve plugged various travel establishments in Atlanta, I shall cover some of my favorite restaurants that I went to while I was there. First, Saba (note that the picture is before they finished their remodel).
Although it may seem unassuming and the Emory kids have probably come to hate it after eating too much of it, I loved this place when I was there two summers ago and I love it even more now. They recently renovated the inside and it’s awesome! It has an actual bar area and everything else is updated and modern. If you happen to ever go and like seafood, I highly recommend the Penne Grecco. It has shrimp and kalamari in an awesome, slightly spicy sauce, over penne along with feta cheese, kalamata olives, tomatoes, and peppers. AWESOME!
Next is Café Intermezzo.
While I enjoy dinner here as well (the tortellini is great and I did ok with the seafood risotto, though the shrimp either seemed slightly undercooked or were cooked with the risotto in such a way that they turned out slimy), Intermezzo should be most noted for their drinks and desserts. When you can get your own tour guide for the dessert section, you know you’re in the right place. I enjoy their cheesecake mostly, but the others are all worth a go. They also have a drink book that’s about as big as the menu at the Cheesecake Factory. And if you know anything about that menu, all I can say is that you could probably come to Intermezzo every day for a year and not get through half of their drink list.
Continuing on our tour of culinary Atlanta, the Flying Biscuit is the ideal place for breakfast, no matter what time of day.
My favorite is the Clifton omelet which is stuffed with mushrooms and goat cheese. Also, I don’t care whether or not you THINK you like grits, you have to try the grits here. They are completely amazing! There’s cheese melted in them along with being perfectly cooked and seasoned. It’s like a party in your mouth and you’re invited!
Simply put - SHOUT.
I wasn’t actually able to eat there this time around – sad panda =( - but it’s worth mentioning because if it hadn’t been for Memorial Day, I would have eaten there for lunch today. There are a couple of restaurants, including SHOUT, which are all owned by the same people and serve tapas. It wasn’t until I came to Atlanta 2 years ago that I was introduced into the wonders of tapas. If you haven’t experienced the fun and awesomeness of a tapas restaurant, do yourself a favor – go find one and pig out. It helps to go with a friend to pick a variety and share, but you could easily make do by yourself. SHOUT, along with it’s sister restaurant TWIST and third-wheel Noche, all have an all-you-can-eat tapas night (I know Noche is on Monday and I think that the others are as well) for $10 before a certain time. It’s a special chef-prepared menu and only lasts while the food does, but it’s well worth it. Although I like all 3, SHOUT has the better atmosphere in my opinion. Located in Midtown, it has two stories, the upper of which has an outdoor area that, so I’m told, tends to turn into a big dance party. The inside is definitely modern and well done, if not slightly crowded in the front. Either way, there’s something on the menu for everyone and it will be nom-a-licious.
Where DID I go to eat lunch, then, you might ask? Another awesome place – Alon’s.
While Alon’s isn’t really a restaurant per se, you can get restaurant-type food. Mostly, it’s more of a deli/market/bakery, but you can get sandwiches along with pre-made sides. My sandwich favorite is the Asian Salmon. It has an awesome glaze on it and is topped with cucumbers and sprouts. MMMM! Although they didn’t have them this time, I usually get the garlic roasted red potatoes as a side. When they’re in season though, don’t hesitate to go for the cherry tomato and mozzarella salad. You won’t be disappointed! It’s not just tomatoes and cheese as you might expect – there’s a light coating of something that I can’t quite place (it’s not just olive oil unless it’s super high quality but seems to also have some kind of herb or seasoning) that really makes it. They also have desserts, cheese, and bread that you can buy just for your own home.
Now that we’ve been down culinary lane, I’m sitting on a plane, in a tight, cramped seat, doing some writing and actually looking forward to being back in Boston (even if I’ll be starving when I get there now), if only to be distracted. From here on out, the month of June will be my first year paper on the differences in the instantiation of psychological essentialism in natural kinds versus social categories. Sounds like a blast, right? Well, if you’re a nerd like me, then yes, it is. If not, I apologize in advance as you’ll probably here about it at some point. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll get back into the swing of things with blogging. The next topic to come up out of my bag of tricks is most likely to be the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell repeal so you’ll get to see my political side. I don’t guarantee that you’ll agree, but if you decide to read it and you have an opinion, you're more than welcome to share it, just at least keep it civil ;-).
Until then, have some good eats and nom nom nom!
That airline fiasco reminds me of the first time I flew. I was away at summer camp when I called home to ask how my grandmother, who had been admitted to the hospital, was doing. I'm then told she has cancer and is pretty much dying. Yeah, it sucked. So my parents book me a flight from Panama City Beach, FL to Louisville via Northwest Airlines. I got on the plane with no problems, survived a 2 hour layover in Memphis with few issues, then flew into Louisville. When my mom got to the airport to pick me up, she went to the Northwest counter to get a pass to meet me at the gate because I was a 16 year old kid, who was fairly upset about the reason I had to come home early. Northwest told her that I was not on that flight. There was no way I was on that flight. This didn't go over well with her. She thought I was stranded in Memphis, so she asked if they would call the Northwest counter in Memphis to try to page me. They flat out refused. So she asked if they would page me at SDF. They said that wasn't possible because I "wasn't on that flight". She finally found me an hour later when I wandered out to baggage claim after I couldn't find her any any of the concourses.
ReplyDeleteShe definitely called Northwest the next day and gave them her opinion on them not keeping track of a minor, when she had paid them the extra fee to make sure I was escorted to and from each plane/gate by a flight attendant and was only to be turned over to one of my parents at SDF when they showed ID. I will never fly Northwest again, because they clearly lose redheads. If I had an airline say they lost my child, my reaction would totally outdo your "only-child-gay-guy-bitch fit". Mine would be a "you-lost-my-child-I'm-a-pissed-off-redheaded-bitch-fit."