High Velocity again at noon. Whoops! no beer until 12:30
in Georgia! But I noticed Mighty Mo on the menu. For those
who are not familiar with this delight, it's a precursor
of the Big Mac, invented at the Hot Shoppes, Bill Marriott's
first hospitality venture. So I ordered one. The one I
recall was a nice fistful of flavors, 35 cents. This one
was $14, a 4000% increase in 50 years.
The original was 2 little 2-or-3-oz patties, squishy with
sauce. This one was two regular-size half-pounders (I am
guessing that they were out of the little guys, either that
or the Sunday cook was unfamiliar with the specifications).
It was a sizable sandwich, and I was right filled up, even
though the sauce was just a smeary presence on the bottom
bun, and there was still no beer. I was all set to order my
brewski, it being about time, when my high school buddy,
whom I haven't seen in a decade or more, and with whom I
was supposed to have dinner, rang me - she'd come back from
her retreat early, and could she pick me up? No beer. I
got the check, hustled out front, and M shortly was out
there in her little Prius, just as sweet and lovely as
when I'd met her 44 years ago.
She's married and has 4 kids, so there's no question of,
you know, that, not that there ever was, but it was just so
wonderful to see her and catch up on the last decade or so
since we'd seen each other and talk about, well, pretty much
the same things that we talked about when we were finding
ourselves back in high school and college.
Went home and chatted with her husband and their youngest
son (now in high school), and played with Maggie, the
black goldoodle, and then she and he and I took me to the
botanic gardens, which is making a big thing (and righfully)
of its orchid collection. There is a temporary offering that
juxtaposes glass sculptures with the flowers, very
intriguing. Following that, we blundered into the Georgia
Daffodil Society show, which was intriguing in its own way:
I could never figure out how to judge such things - county
fairs, and the like, where one daffodil (or potato!) looks
to the untrained eye just like the next. I talked to one of
the judges, and when I said that I judged music
competitions, she said, now that's a tough job, at least
we have a rubric (which she gave me a copy of).
They had wanted to take me to their favorite local
joint, Pomodoro, but there wasn't a table outside, so we
went across the way to Caramba Cafe, which had outdoor
dining available. M doesn't care for the food here, but her
husband had taken charge and gotten us a table while she
had been negotiating with Pomodoro for accommodations.
The best parts of dinner: Negra Modelo and chips (fresh)
and salsa (fairly spicy, out of a jar I think).
I had "Maggie's favorite," in honor of the dog - three
chicken enchiladas with rice and guac - okay tasting, not
very spicy at all, but very salty.
M, not thrilled with her meal (which looked dubious), went
from margarita to Modelo but still stayed sober enough to
drive me southward to my next stop, the Hampton Inn Atlanta
Airport. We made tentative plans to attend our 40th reunion
this summer. The hotel staff was friendly and the facility
neat enough. I got a clean, adequate, but not generous room
with a handicap-accessible bathroom (what's this about? half
the time these days the hotels give me one; did I check
handicapped on a form once? - I do have a rather mild visual
impairment).
glasses: fairly cruddy plastic
toiletries: Purity Basics, nicer than they sound
wireless: free with the code provided at the front desk
bed: double with slightly squishy, lumpy mattress, 4
pillows all the same, plus a small bolster.
Slept okay but woke with a backache.
Breakfast (provided) - a buttery, flaky biscuit with sausage
gravy (meaty but not very tasty); a Krispy Kreme raised
doughnut. There is also a cereal bar, toast, juices. Back to
the room and the Internet.