Of course, my worst fears were
realized. After spending an excruciatingly frustrating 3 hours getting from my
office to my hometown, where traffic would lighten, I was in the clear, finally
able to channel my inner Jeff Gordon on the way to South Carolina. The rest of
the drive was as calm and serene as a Southern breeze, minus the one
middle-aged guy ahead of me in line getting an XL Stuffed Burrito and six (!!)
tacos at the Taco Bell in Florence. I made it to Gina’s house before 1 AM, over
9 hours after I’d set off, and a quick kiss or seven later, we hit the town.
Columbia, Night 1
I’d been to Columbia once before, visiting a friend my senior year of college. It defeated me. I tried to walk into a bathroom at Sonic in a highly-charged and intoxicated state of mind. Little I did realize you can’t actually walk into Sonics, and after being alerted by the cheerful kitchen staff that there was no bathroom available inside, I puked in the grass outside. I always keep it classy.
My first night went swimmingly, as I
met the roommates and friends and enjoyed a night out in the Five Points bar
district. Bud Light pitchers for $5? Yes, please, and keep ‘em coming. Fun
times were had by all, and the weekend was off to a great start.
That continued the next day, which
started with brunch at a local restaurant where I had a breakfast burrito that
was, ehhh, alright. I consider myself to be a connoisseur of breakfast meats
and cheeses wrapped in tortillas, and though it wasn’t awful, it wasn’t the
best I ever had, no not the fucking best I ever had. Still, the biggest
difference it seems to me between the South and the North is price, so couldn’t
complain.
View from in front of the Ellis |
Atlanta
A quick pit stop to the mall later and Gina and I were on our way to Atlanta for the night. Anyone who knows me knows how much of a Braves fan I am. I’ve seen them play in Baltimore, Washington, Kansas City, Pittsburgh, and Chicago, but never at Turner Field. That was about to change. Three hours in DJ Gina’s sporty Acura with her at my iPod’s control went by quick, and we checked into our hotel on Peachtree Street right downtown. Shoutout to the Ellis Hotel for a king bed, huge shower, free lemonade, and powerful ice dispenser. We stopped for a dinner of champions – her at Jimmy Johns, me at Subway – before navigating the streets and being helped by a kindly homeless man who then solicited me on the way to the shuttle that would take us to the stadium.
We got to Turner Field an hour early
– yes, I’m THAT guy. Gina deserves a crown for the sports addiction she has to
put up with. I was convinced very unwillingly to take a picture with a
depiction of Chipper Jones outside the Braves Hall of Fame; Chipper is my
all-time favorite athlete and the only reason I wore #11 in my sporting life is
because #10 was taken by the kid in front of me in line when we picked our
jerseys for the U9 Hotspurs travel soccer team. Damn you, Bret Hudson. We got to our seats on the 1st base line – and let me take a moment to pat
myself on the back for trawling through Stubhub until I got exactly what I
wanted – and they were great. Except for the little kid who continuously kicked
the back of Gina and I’s chair as if it was an airplane. Come on, son.
Turner Field looked great. The Braves did not. |
The game itself was nothing to write
home about as the Braves continued their truly magnificent losing streak in
fine fashion, losing 5-0. The saving grace was it was Fireworks night
afterward, and that makes everything better. Gina was on a quest to get on the
scoreboard video screen, doing her best to get the attention of a cameraman who
was always near our section but seemed to prefer the attentions of another
clientele base, should we say. Eventually we made it on in the background.
Simba Cam was pretty cool, too.
We headed back to our hotel after the
game, pretty tired and without the motivation that could have been provided if
there were any fun or cool bars around our location. No such luck.
Back to Columbia
The next morning we checked out of the hotel and waited approximately 47 minutes for the valet to get Gina’s car, the whole time just wanting to be inside it so we could eat our breakfast of the gods – Dunkin Donuts. The whole world runs on it, y’know. It was easy enough to get out of the city and after stopping for gas, which I consider to be a fun adventure with Gina as she’s from Jersey and has gas pumped for her there, and getting vital nourishment in the form of Gatorade, Arizona Iced Tea, and three AirHeads, we were back in Columbia for the night ahead.
Beer, blue drank, and football. She's ok, too. |
Gina’s lovely roommates Julie and
Kristy hadn’t had the most relaxing of nights the night before, and our arrival
at their house was greeted with the warm welcome of two girls curled in balls
on the couch looking like they wanted to end it all. The magic of youth worked
its wonders, though, and after watching Michigan stumble and bumble its way to
a pathetic 26-10 loss to Utah, we got ready to head out to Five Points again to
watch South Carolina’s primetime matchup with Vanderbilt.
We went to the same bar as Thursday
night, with the same pitchers of Bud Light, with the added twist of pitchers of
Adios, a blue drank which later proved to be my downfall. Everyone was decked
out in their gear, and nowhere have I seen more girls interested in football.
After spotting Vanderbilt two touchdowns, you know, just to keep things
interesting, USC came back and won handily in Nashville. Good win for the
Cocks, and now they have College Gameday in Columbia next Saturday as a reward.
By the end of the game, your boy was starting to feel it. Many group selfies
and Snapchats and drinks and another bar later, it was time to go home. I don’t
remember the cab ride back or many of the other proceedings, other than pasta
and a sandwich and pita chips were involved.
Waking up wasn’t the most fun Sunday
morning, and so little was done. Unless you count watching Planet Earth on the
couch for hours, because if you do, then we accomplished everything God put us
on this planet to do. We went to pick up Gina’s car and got Cookout along the
way – sidenote, if you’ve never been down South and gotten food from there,
stop reading this NOW and go. You’ll thank me after your quesadilla, hush
puppies, and milkshake. The prospect of a 500-mile drive home awaited me, and
after saying c ya to Gina, I headed back to Maryland.