Monday, October 20, 2014

Spel-House Yeah!

Ramblings Post #272
So many glorious nights, so many beautiful faces, so many experiences that fill the book of life and make moments of memory the sweetest part of living. Or, you could live in Atlanta and you don't have time for memories, because it's just on like that.

As you may or may not know, I did not attend Morehouse University. And I guess it goes without saying I did not attend Spelman University. I think I visited once, but that's not important. With the annual FAMU game no longer a thing, the "one big party" thing that used to happen in Atlanta for what are normally considered "middle class" black people was relegated to just this affair: The Morehouse/Spelman homecoming. Maybe one other thing too, I've been out of the loop for a minute.

Note that I did not wake up on Saturday and go out there. Too much going on for me, poor old bones, wooo, a little pear tea before I get the vapors.

One of the great traditions of HBCUs are the homecoming events, which typically are affairs where the actual game is more a ritual than the main event and the majority of the alumni attendees treating it like a class reunion. You show up, catch up with old friends, go home. Or in the modern era, make plans on FB, show up, show off, go home, remove old friends from friends list. I didn't have the inclination to do that, because I really only kinda know them folks. But, since grown folks now tend to throw better parties, I was up for a little hangout on Friday night.

My RP hipped me a little drop in at a spot called the Negril Village a few blocks south of the Fox theater. The name through me, because most Jamaican eating spots are low-key affairs, and this weekend was supposed to be high tone. I was pleasantly surprised. Very upscale, all brick and dark wood with  a great looking bar area and what looked like comfy booths. The upstairs event space, where the function I was attending took place was nice as well, with it's own private bars. And it turned into a real get funky, sweat dripping, shake your booty party.

All the way turned up. All. The. Way.
At some point, perhaps unable to grab a drink, my fellow revelers decided to head north to Buckhead, and ended up at the Rose bar, which I remember as an old piano bar that was sitting right in the middle of everything but an odd place to end up. Well now, everyone's found it and it was jumping. I think they added a deck on the front - or maybe it's been there a while - and they took out the piano but it's still the little hideaway it's always been, now just turned up to 100. Very nice.

After playing Uber and dropping my folk off, I ended up at this place called Delia's Chicken Sausage Stand.  Please note, that until I walked in, I had never noticed the word "sausage" in the name. I usually pass it on North Ave headed someplace else, but instead of the long ride out to a Waffle House then back home, I decided to give it a go. They had a crowd, and if I can find something on the menu I like I'm going to drop in one night and just hang out, but the link chicken sausage wrapped in egg on a hoagie roll just didn't do it for me. Maybe I should have tried the sauce, or looked at something besides breakfast. It was interesting though.

And after my first night out in... I seriously have no idea, but it has to have been months, I kept in Saturday. I would have made biscuits, but something is wrong with my stove so I got to get that checked. In any case, it's nice to know that even as I've dropped below the radar that Atlanta is still out there, having a good time.

Barkeep, a nice glass of Chablis. And do you know if the drug store carries hair dye? No reason. For a friend.   

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