I just got back from a fun trip to Atlanta so I have more than enough to write about. Now, June probably is not the best time to visit "Hotlanta," but I went for a purpose: to visit an old friend and attend a baby shower. I've known Tiffany (aka Teety) since we used to skip Mr. Bowers' band class together in middle school. It was my first trip down to visit her and her family in Canton, about 40 miles north of the city.
The day I arrived, Teety picked me up from the airport and immediately took me to "The Underground" (someone later asked, "Why did you take her there?!"). Well, I can't answer that, but I sure am glad we went. It was a fascinating taste of local culture ... and by local culture I mean bling, crunk and bedonkadonks (Urban Dictionary at your own risk) all centered around an underground shopping mall of sorts. I've never seen anything like it. Inside the mall part, there was a long corridor lined with kiosks selling all sorts of shiny things like faux diamond (sorry, iced out) dollar symbol necklaces, iced out handgun belt buckles and gold chains (a guy told us they could melt gold into a personalized necklace that spelled our name). There must have been a pimp hat or cane in there somewhere and maybe even a grill (fo' yo' teef). There was some milder stuff like Bob Marley posters and incense, but this crazy hip-hop bling is what caught my eye. That and the women wearing the super-short booty shorts with matching stilettos. How do they walk in those things?!
This got me thinking about crunk, the style of southern rap that originated in Atlanta. After a quick Google search, I learned that Lil Jon is the current reigning "king of crunk" and that he grew up in the A-T-L. I also learned that I, surprisingly, am 92 percent crunk according to the "How crunk" test on howcrunk.com. A lot of people would probably find the questions highly offensive, but I think they are funny. Here's one of the cleaner examples: "So you're rollin down the street, smokin' indo, sippin on ... 1. Bud Light 2. Cognac 3. Gin and Juice 4. Cristal." You would have to be familiar with the Snoop Doggy Dog song to know what the hizzle I'm talking about.There were plenty of other forms of local culture that I found equally intriguing -- the southern redneck (missing teeth, says "skeeters" instead of mosquitoes), the southern yuppie (plaid shorts, popped collar, golf cart), the southern housewife (implants, lots of makeup) -- but I digress.
One other cool thing we did during my visit was go to the top of the Westin Peachtree Plaza Hotel in downtown Atlanta. It's a 73-story cylindrical skyscraper with a revolving bar/restaurant at the top. The lounge part on the top floor where we hung out has panoramic views of the city and makes one complete revolution every 30 minutes. I remember going there as a kid with my family so it was cool to revisit some 20 years later. Only now I could order a real peach daiquiri instead of a virgin (to the tune of $15). It came in a giant 
souvenir glass with a mountain of fruit piled on top. It was worth every penny and I was happy to satisfy my craving for something peachy. The only problem was finding our way out of the revolving sky bar after consuming this rum-filled monstrosity. Teety and I must have looked confused because a staff member stopped and gave us directions to the elevator. "Just keep walking, you're about halfway there."Atlanta is not necessarily somewhere I'd choose to live, but I certainly appreciate that we could go from the crunked-out Underground to the plush Peachtree Plaza all in a single afternoon.
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