Georgia On My Mind

When I found out that our next move is to Atlanta, GA, I did not take it with as much grace as I should have. In fact, there was actual crying, which is rare for me. As soon as I recovered from the crying phase, I moved into the bargaining one and nailed my list of demands to Chris's church door. My requirements:

1. We go home for the holidays at my discretion.

2. I get to take a Spanish class.

3. As soon as we can afford it, I get to buy a new couch. And a piano.

4. We never voluntarily go to the 'World of Coke', unless there is some situation where refusing to go would be incredibly socially awkward.

The World of Coke has become kind of a flashpoint for me about what's wrong with Atlanta. Mostly it's the way people say it, when they're trying to reassure me that Atlanta is going to be great. It goes like this:

Me, not enthused: We're moving to atlanta.

Cheerful person, who is not, themselves, moving to Atlanta: Oh, I hear Atlanta is great. They have, they have...don't they have a big aquarium? And they have the World of Coke!

Like somehow a building where I could go and pay money to learn about a soda is going to make my life better in ANY way. And a city where one of the major attractions is museum about a soft drink has never, ever, really considered the Sierra Nevada mountains. I'm just saying.

But I started thinking about that little clause- the one about awkward social situations. Just who would want to go there that I couldn't refuse? So far I've only come up with two people:

1) My mother-in-law. Not that she would want to, but if she ever DID come to visit and ask to go there...well, I would go. For so many reasons.

2) Jimmy Carter. I'm pretty sure that everyone in Georgia must think of Jimmy Carter as their adopted grandpa. And, being new in town, I can't just show up and start dissing people's grandpas. So if Jimmy Carter ever asks me to go to the World of Coke with him, I will do it.

But the rest of you can forget it.