Nights out in SPACE...

Ramblings Post #74
They don't miss you until you're gone, and you don't realize how much you had until you've wasted it. None of that applies here. After a long semester, and a longer final (Ha!) I'm back on the scene with a gangsta lean...temporarily. Until January I'm back in the game, just hoping to get in a few reps and maybe score a TD or two without having to resort to the trick plays. We'll see. Until then...here we go!

So, for the first Friday in three months that I don't have anything to do, I put on my spiffy and head out to Serve's birthday party. She's holding it with S-to be-named at a little spot on the Southwest side of Atlanta called SPACE.

It's the Space in SPACE...which isn't all that much.

SPACE is one of those spots that frequently pop up in Atlanta. I'd been to Rathbuns and Krog bar and a host of other spots that 125 years ago, or 5 years ago, used to be something industrial and so it has lots of raw space. And if you polish the concrete floor, seal the windows and put in some heat and A/C, then stick in a kitchen and bar and you turn around and you've got a restaurant/lounge. SPACE is exactly that. All that's missing is the "authentic" Atlanta Heritage Building concept, in that it "used to be" this specific historical spot. That and it's missing decent parking.

The evening starts off funny. I'm picking up Slim, who suddenly no longer is. We spend fifteen minutes at her house because suddenly nothing fits anymore. Then because the eVite says the party starts at 7pm, we breeze in at 8pm...and are an hour early because the party doesn't really start until 9pm. No worries, the spot has food and bar so I figure we can amuse ourselves for an hour. So I ask the waitress if the bar has any whiskey worth talking about. She doesn't know but goes to check. There selection is piss poor, so I order the basic with some Sprite. Then, she looks me dead in my eye and asks seriously: "Do you want them in separate glasses?"

That became the joke of the evening.

Slim and I argued over her bad instructions until S-to-be-named showed up and went over what the evite was supposed to have said. We then all decided that somewhere else in Atlanta there was a birthday party happening that Slim had agreed to be at, and that they probably were very salty with her for not showing up.

Then came the next great joke of the evening. SPACE was hosting three seperate events that evening, the birthday party I was attending, a second birthday party in the back room and what I guess was a third birthday party. There may have been a fourth event, I really wasn't paying attention. But what are the odds, as it turns out the party in the back room: I know those guys. And the chicks with the third birthday party: I know them too!

I go to one spot and run into three events where I know someone? The term Atlanta is too small quickly comes to mind. That or I know entirely too many people. So I spent the evening bouncing back and forth from party to party, seeing a great deal of folks I hadn't seen in ages. The space, as most spaces are, was laid out improperly to maximize the crowd flow, but then that's great for meeting people. It was a pretty fun night.

I almost got my swagger back. Then i remembered I hate that term, so I decided to get something else back.

Barkeep...first, I want the liquor and the soda in the same glass....okay? Now....