The day started early -- the "butt-crack of dawn," according to Heather, Jeff's wife. (Not the most apt metaphor, perhaps, but certainly indicative of her perspective on early rising.) There's something about early morning that's perfectly suited to the beginning of a journey: a new adventure for a new day.
Far over the misty mountains coldI picked up Jeff at ten till seven, having already got my $50 cash budget for the trip (which I didn't exceed, despite three meals, snacks, and an $18 aquarium ticket -- hooray for me!). Next, off to McDonalds for biscuits and coffee, a traditional roadtrip beginning: chicken for Jeff, sausage and egg for me.
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away ere break of day
To seek the pale enchanted gold.
We'd mapped out our route ahead of time, and armed with three atlases and various Google maps, we set our course through northwest Georgia. We avoided the interstates: there was no need to hurry, and interstates make for dull road trips. Instead we took country highways through small country towns: a string of Mayberries. (Or potential Deliverances, if you're a paranoid Yankee.) A few times we were thrown off-track when our highway ducked into another road and emerged on the opposite bank some ways downstream, but we generally stayed on course. Eventually, after over three hours on the road, we arrived at our first stop: McKay's Used Books.
McKay's is a Mecca for bibliophiles -- just look through the parking lot and start ticking off the states represented through car tags, and you'll get a sense for the clientele this place attracts. McKay's is HUGE: a warehouse easily the size of the average Big Lots. The selection is immense, too: books, music CDs, audio books, PC and video games, VHS and DVD movies, and magazines. But it's not just a massive jumble, either; instead, the thousands of volumes are neatly sorted by genre, subject, and author, making it simple for customers to find what they're looking for. (Assuming, of course, the customer is looking for anything in particular. Me, I trust to serendipity.)
So, if you know me, a question is now forming in your mind: how did I go to a bookstore and not break my $50 budget? Answer: in-store trade credit! I brought a box full of books, DVDs, and PC games, and got $163.94 in trade credit. And I spent all but $12 of it. Not exactly the pale enchanted Dwarf gold, but still a pretty good haul for a questing adventurer! Jeff scored big, too, though his selections tended to be a bit heavier on the poetry end of things, not so much on the Kung Fu and ghost stories.
By that time, we were ravenous, so we popped over to Mudpie, a little coffeehouse over by Coolidge Park. I had a veggie-topped baked potato; Jeff had a mushroom sandwich of some sort. And we shared a helping of these:
Sweet potato fries! Sadly, Mudpie no longer serves its signature white corn/cream cheese salsa. Delectable stuff, but now, alas, no more. Still, Mudpie's worth a visit: the menu is interesting and the interior decorating even more so. Some examples:
Goodwill portraiture!
Giant freakin' cherubs!Having eaten our fill -- and it was a very FULL fill -- we walked across the river to the Tennessee Aquarium, taking the world's longest pedestrian-only bridge. (That's what the sign said -- I do but quote.) It was indeed long, with benches at strategic breath-catching points.
At the aquarium end of the bridge, we found this, which I've dubbed a "tourist trap." Anyone with a better explanation is free to offer it.
(AND AT THIS POINT WE WENT TO THE AQUARIUM.)
After the interminable trudging of the two aquarium exhibit buildings, Jeff and I were justifiably pooped. Fortunately, some wise person had anticipated that and installed on the steep hill up to the bridge a lazy person elevator. (Yes, of COURSE it's meant for handicapped people. But there wasn't exactly a line of wheelchairs to get on the thing, so we felt no guilt.)
Finally, before heading back to Athens, we visited Clumpies, an icecream shop a few stores down from Mudpie. Esspresso chocolate chunk for me, a cookie dough Coke float for Jeff. And I didn't die on the dangerously unstable milkcan stool I chose to sit on, for which I'm grateful.
The trip back was quicker and uneventful, save for an excellent dinner (with an unfortunate crab cake) at a restaurant whose name escapes my memory. So, all in all it was fine outing, hopefully to be repeated sometime in the not-too-distant (say, the next six months or so) future.
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