Opinion - A good first year in Atlanta

This week, one of my best friends left Atlanta for the bright lights and urine-scented subways of New York City. A little more than a year ago, when I was a newly jobless writer living (unhappily) in Florida, that’s where I thought I’d go, too. I have people up there, plus I’d heard it’s the best place to commune with the hoards of other jobless writers. But then a weird thing happened and I was offered a job in Atlanta. While thrilled to be gainfully employed again, I was ambivalent about my new home.

Growing up in Northeast Florida, I’d visited Atlanta several times over the years, mostly to see bands that were foregoing a trip down to America’s vestigial tail. Frankly, Atlanta never left much of an impression on me; mostly I remembered it was trafficky and should be avoided during rush hour. Last April, I left Jacksonville — a city I’d grown to dislike during the decade I lived there — thinking, “Well, Atlanta can’t be worse than this shithole.” I was prepared to make the best of living here; I wasn’t prepared to love it.

Over the past year, Atlanta has delighted and mystified me in equal measure. I practically squealed with glee when I discovered how cheap cigarettes are, not to mention that I can sometimes smoke them in places that serve food (stupid Florida has laws against that). The whole Sunday sales thing is a real mindfuck, though. To this day, I can’t wrap my brain around why I can get wasted in a bar on a Sunday — a thing I do — but I can’t have a beer while I watch football on my couch unless I’ve remembered to “plan ahead,” as a former governor suggested. It seriously took months of being humiliated by grocery store cashiers — “I’m sorry. I can’t sell that to you today, you stupid, stupid person who obviously has a drinking problem, based on the three-dollar wine you’re just dying to buy.” — before I remembered to stop attempting to buy booze on the Sabbath.

A lot of what I like best about Atlanta are things easily taken for granted. I love that there are actual seasons here, even if summer is the dominant — and, admittedly, oppressive — force. I love that movies open here that don’t make it to other, smaller cities. I love that people give a shit about good food and good drinks here, and there’s always someplace new to eat. And even though Atlanta doesn’t have a ton of greenspace, I love that people take advantage of what they have. My heart swells when I see Piedmont Park packed with people and the dog park (my favorite place in the world) filled with dogs on sunny days. What I’ve grown to love most, though, is that the only time the city stands still is when we’re all sitting in traffic. Atlanta always seems to be changing, moving forward. Coming from a place where it seemed like nothing ever progressed, I’m amazed by things like the Beltline project, not just because it’s a really ambitious, really great idea, but because it’s actually happening: funds are being secured, parks are opening, trails are being blazed (both literally and figuratively).

I’ve subconsciously compiled a list of constructive criticisms, of course. I mean, do you realize how much easier life would be if city and county government was consolidated? Did the person who designed the roads not understand that the lanes needed to be wide enough to accommodate vehicles? And I know it’s out of the city’s hands, but can we all agree that the ad valorem tax on cars is bullshit?

This year sure flew by — CL keeps me busy — but I’m glad I spent it here.