Deborah Takes a Fall (break), and I Learn How to Shoot
Part One: The Rendezvous (10-17-03)
Though we had kindof planned out how we were going to meet up after the flight transporting Deborah and her roommate Arla got to Atlanta days before, there were really no solid ideas. The plan as it stood was that Deborah was going to call me from the airport, and I was going to give them somewhere to meet me. Figuring that this was insufficient planning, I spent at least a good 45 minutes on the MARTA website, trying to figure out the best place for me to meet. I found a great bus that they would be able to take so that they would be really close to my dorm and wouldn�t have to walk through Atlanta with their luggage. I was pleased with myself, and proceeded with the normal functions of my day.
Deborah had told me that she would call around 9:15 or 9:30. Acknowledging this, I was back in my room waiting for the phone at around 9:00 after some hardcore DDR. 9:15 came, and 9:30 passed, and I had no gotten called by anyone, except for someone trying to sell me long distance service (someone really ought to tell them that I live in a dorm) (actually, I did tell them this). Anyway, around 10:25 I finally get ringed by a payphone. It is of course Deborah, and after a delayed flight, she and Arla had made it to Atlanta. I talk Deborah my plan for meeting up with them and she got confused (surprisingly neither her nor her roommate understood the concept of rail to bus transfers). I explained it to her again. She still didn�t get it. I explained it a third time, including such things as bus departure times, and she asked if it would be easier if I just walked down to the Midtown Marta station to meet them. Knowing that I would have to make this mile long trek twice was somewhat depressing, but I reluctantly agreed. After emptying my pockets of all valuables, I set off to meet them.
The walk was not horrific, but I was afraid at one point that I was not heading in the direction of the MARTA station. Considering that I was taking the role of the all-knowing guide, this was not a good thing. Anyway, eventually I made it. I looked in and around the station, but I saw no signs of either Deborah or Arla. At this point I decided that it would be for the best if I just sat down and waited for the next train to come, as it would surely be the one with them in it. I waited for what must have been at least 15 minutes (I didn�t have a watch), and I tried to blend in with the people that regularly hang out at the station. I�m not sure how good of I job I did, but I was happy when I heard a train under me and first saw people coming up the escalator. I figured that soon I would meet up with Deborah and Arla, but people just kept coming, and none of them were who I was looking for. Eventually people stopped coming. I felt a sinking feeling. �Did they go to the wrong station?� �Did they miss the first train?� I asked myself. I figured that I would have to spend the next thirty minutes or so just chillin� at Midtown, but then, out of nowhere, I saw two girls that I had seen before. They were laughing and just acting generally ridiculous, and I waved to them. They seemed to hardly take notice of me until the brunette tried to exit the station with her rolling suitcase and got stuck. I thought to myself, �how amazingly typical,� and I helped Deborah sneak her bag under the guard by backing it up and lowering it. Arla exited with relatively less trouble and I was formally introduced to her with a handshake. I introduced myself to Deborah also, but she didn�t seem to appreciate it as much. After looking around for a bus or another alternative to walking, we set off on our journey back to Caldwell, my dorm.
The journey back was quite an experience. I got to talk to the girls some, but they mainly seemed to want to talk to each other. I eventually managed to ply my way into their conversation, and we talked about such things as baseball, and how it is better to be from Florida than New England. Deborah and Arla both to me surprise what I am going to coin �stupid AIM talk�. What I mean by this is every time they pretend that something is funny or would otherwise say �Oh my god,� they would say �lol� (pronounced like the first syllable in lollypop) or �O.M.G.�. The total lack of emotion and the annoyingly high frequency at which they would say these moronic things made for a quick headache. I was a good thing, because of this, that I decided that we should try a new route back to my dorm. I turned down what I believe is called State street, thinking that it would offer a change in view without prolonging the journey. As is typical when I decide to go a different direction than what I am used to, it was a mistake, and after a good bit of walking we found ourselves on Ferst Street, having bypassed my dorm by quite a ways. From this point, getting back to Caldwell was no problem. All we had to do was walk through a field and up around 100 awkwardly made stairs. Being brought up a southern gentleman, I of course asked if the girls (who had been complaining about their luggage for a good time at this point, especially Arla) if I could help them get it up all those stairs. They both obliged, and I trudged up the hill carrying more clothes than I will probably ever own in my life. Needless to say, I made it no problem, and the adventure back from the airport had come to an end.
Deborah, excited about finally being able to sit down
When we finally got to my dorm room, we were at a loss at what to do. Fortunately, I had cleaned the room earlier in the day, and the girls were very impressed. Arla was at first very reluctant to let my door close (don�t ask me why), as she stood in it for what was probably 2 or 3 minutes after finally getting there. Deborah�s friend, Elspeth had gone to see a movie, and was thus unavailable for contact. I decided that nothing would be as fun as playing around with my new birthday present, the Canon PowerShot A70 (an amazing digital camera). We all had good fun taking pictures of each other before finally we were able to reach Elspeth. We were to meet her at the student center. So to my glee, we sat out walking one more time.
The infamous Arla doing what she does best, flashing the camera
After dropping Deborah and Arla of with Elspeth I got to have some alone time. It was great that I was finally seeing my old friend after all this time, but I didn�t really know what to think. After they left, I did the thing that I always do when I don�t know what to think. I went to the arcade, tokenless and thirsty and watched people play on the machines. What was going to happen the next couple of days? Was I even going to get to see Deborah anymore? I thought to myself that it was possible that I would only get to have the cameo appearance meeting up with them, and that Elspeth and her posse of dorm mates would steal the spotlight. Only time would tell.
Me, with my "big pimpin" face on
Part two: Smarta Tuesday�s (10-18-03)
The Eighteenth of October was a Saturday, and I didn�t see much of either Deborah or Arla for most of the day. Regardless, the small portion of the day that I spent with them was the most memorable part. I didn�t get a call from them until 4:20 in the afternoon. Up until that point I had not accomplished much, but I will try and recall what I did. Actually, the only thing that I know I did was study for the all-important Chemistry test that was scheduled for the next Monday. That is what I was doing when I heard the phone ring. My caller ID told me that it was a pay phone, and my intuitive sense told me that it was Deborah. It was. She had apparently spent a good portion of the day clothes shopping at the Lenox Mall with Arla and Elspeth. Like most normal people, Elspeth had tired of shopping after the tenth store or so, but Deborah and Arla are what one might call superhuman shoppers. After hours at the mall, bearing new discount garments as their prizes, they wanted me to come meet up with them so they could shop some more. At the point I received the call, I hadn�t showered or eaten that day. I am not even sure if I had clothes on. Just before I had started studying Chemistry, I had decided that I should get down on the floor and unscrew the legs of my fan using a flat tool like thing from my pedicure kit. For some reason, I decided that I couldn�t get full satisfaction from this activity unless I did it naked, so I took off my boxers and started unscrewing my fan. Anyway, I�m not sure if I was just hanging out or not. But I am sure that I was greasy. I told Deborah that I definitely would have to take a shower before I met with anyone, much less before shopping at a mall in downtown Atlanta. She agreed that this was the best course of action. We agreed that we would meet at 6:00 at the Lenox Marta Station, and I went and got ready.
Remember the squirrels at Tech, here's one of them
I�m going to be frank. There is not a transportation system in the world that I hate more than the Metropolitan Area Rapid Transit Authority of Atlanta. No, not even unicycles or razor scooters (if you can even consider them transportation systems). It is quite the walk for me to get to the Midtown Marta Station, and because of this I considered taking a bus to get there. Because I was under the impression that the busses only ran every forty-five minutes, and I was obligated to meet Deborah and Arla at six, I instead opted to walk. As it turns out, this was a mistake. I saw two busses pass me as I was walking to the station. I thought about trying to wave them down, but I realized that it was futile, because both times I was nowhere near a marked stop. At around 5:35, I made it too the Midtown Marta station. I was happy about the extra minutes that I had, just incase I would have to wait for a train. I still thought to myself that in all likelihood, I would beat the two girls to the Lenox station. Well, I did have to wait. I was trying to go North, but it seemed only Southbound trains were coming. Somebody on my side of the station saw one of the Southbound trains go by and asked, �Hey, are those trains headed to the airport?� I responded, �Yeah, those trains are Southbound, and the airport is South of here�. I heard him mutter, �dammit� and then hurry off to the other side. Looking back on my response, I could have been a tad nicer about it, but I had problems of my own, I had to get there by six. After what was at least fifteen minutes of waiting, a northbound train finally came. I was carefully looking for a train marked with �Doraville� (The end of the line for the northeast fork), the train I saw was marked �Arts Center�. I thought that this was kind of weird considering that the Art Center was the next station, and was before the fork, but I wasn�t about to pass of a train. I got on and hoped for the best. The train ride was actually kind of fun while it lasted. There were two little girls who were obviously on their first subway ride, playing around in the aisle of the train. They would say stuff like �let�s fall over�, and then proceed to do it. They also danced around. It was cute. Anyway, when we got to the art center the intercom said something like �This is Arts Center, Arts Center, this train has reached the end of the line, get out�. My heart sunk, and I wondered how I could ever go to the Lenox Station if the north line was shut down. Not to mention, I was running out of time, and the delay pretty much guaranteed that I was going to be late. One of the Marta officials explained to us what was happening. First, a southbound train would come on the south rail, then a northbound train would. It didn�t make a bit of sense, but I chose to believe it. After at least ten minutes of waiting, surely a northbound train came on the rail designated for southbound transit. I was happy to finally be on my way (at this point it was already passed six and it was just a matter of how late I was). But the brief moment of ecstasy that I got from boarding the train went away when I heard over the intercom �There are workers on the Marta tracks right now so we are going to go the safe speed of twenty five miles per hour. We apologize for the inconvenience.� So, the ride went on at a dreadfully slow pace. At 6:14, fourteen minutes after the agreed-upon time, I finally met up with Deborah and Arla. I was quite pleased that they had not abandoned me, and they looked somewhat annoyed that I had not made it on time, but I explained that it was not mine, but the system�s fault and that Marta wasn�t smarta at all. (This is a pun based on Marta�s motto �Its Marta�).
"Are you really a pyschopath?" No, but I did ride in a Marta this afternoon.
Anyway, after all the waiting and non-shopping that the girls had been doing, they were bored, and ready to shop again. They took me with them to the infamous Lenox Square Mall of Atlanta. We decided that it would be best if we went into lots of clothing stores, so that is what we did. Arla was set on buying a jean jacket. She told me a rather in depth story about how her mom raised her in a very denim-less atmosphere. As would be the case with any New England girl, Arla became depressed at the lack of rough blue material surrounding her, and obtained a denim obsession. She decided that one day she would clothe herself in all denim, and finally be complete. So of course she needed a jean jacket. There was none to be found at the first store we went to though, so we moved on to another store called American Outfitter or something. This store seemed a lot more promising because there was techno blaring in the background. Their entire line was based on clothes that looked like they had been worn. I commented that you could get the real thing at Goodwill, and for only a fraction of the price. Both Arla and Deborah agreed, but they both seemed to be drawn to what seemed to me to be just ridiculous clothes. After going to a high price card shop, and then back into another clothes store, I convinced the girls that it was time to eat. At this point, I was quite hungry, as I hadn�t eaten all day. We all decided that we should go to Ruby Tuesday�s for dinner.
When we got there the Gator game was on TV. Those Gators sure have improved after a dismal start. I couldn�t see the score though, so I had no idea that they were going to win the game. Anyway, we all got menus, and though I have no clue what anyone else in my party ordered, I know that I got Chicken Fajitas and a Coke. As we sat around the table we discussed pressing issues such as how cool Arnold Schwarzenegger was, things I don�t like about Bush, how Porsche can only really make two good cars, how Porsche�s SUV is the stupidest idea ever (ignoring the Aztec), how Governors of Vermont should not be elected president, how Cadillac makes an all right SUV, Marta, better mass transit systems in other cities, and how we were all definitely going to play a card game called pounce when we got back. Anyway, the fajitas were pretty good, but the tortillas were intolerably hard. They were so stale that they could not be rolled without cracking. The one on the very bottom was even reminiscent of a hard taco shell. Fortunately we got some pictures of out amusing meal. I was happy to have eaten, and after discussing how much to tip, and paying with credit cards like the super cool ultra independent adults that we are, the three of us headed to the Marta Station bound for Georgia Tech.
When we got back from a horrible Marta experience and into my dorm, we did a lot. We discussed watching a movie, playing cards, a blue sweater that Arla had bought for $1.97, and took pictures of each other. Basically we chilled. I think a lot of human beauty comes out when people just sit around and talk about random things. Arla and Deborah are smart people, and it was fun to have conversations with artists rather than the normal computer science majors that I normally talk with.
Arla was convinced this sweater was a steal at $1.97. Are you?
Deborah can't even look.
Eventually Elspeth called. We all walked over to her dorm, but Arla and I were forced to sit outside in the cold for about thirty minutes while Deborah and Elspeth argued about something. We made the most of our time, figuring out how to use my digital camera, and taking lots of pictures. Eventually Deborah came out, and I walked around with her some talking about the types of things that I talk about at one at night (for those of you who have never experienced me at this hour, I really start thinking and saying things that I wouldn�t normally say)(not bad things, I just begin to notice stuff). Anyway, we talked, we got cold, we studied chemistry (I had that test coming up on Monday). It was all a really good time. As the night concluded I thought to myself how great it was that Deborah had come to Atlanta, and how I was able to reminisce on the past in a positive way. I have always hated the past, because it always seemed that I hadn�t done things right. Its important not to make a past that you will be ashamed of, finally I have realized this and am trying to do things right. Deborah proposed that I go to Six Flags with them the next day and I wondered how good of an idea it would be. I told them I would let them know in the morning.
Arla happy after finally taking of the sweater and putting it back where it belongs, in a bag, where no one can see it.