After a big breakfast, Duncan and I set off for Charlotte. I’ve made this drive hundreds of times, and it holds very little mystery for me. And the radio stations haven’t gotten any better. Remember when some radio stations actually played music during morning drive? Wow…
I dropped Duncan at his and Rick‘s soon-to-be former home, stopped by the former A&P on Central Avenue to get a Coke and headed south. Directly into the most ungodly rainstorm I’ve seen in nine years. It was pretty normal for North Carolina in April, but we don’t get that kind of rain in California and I’d forgotten just how blinding it is. I was across the Catawba River and into Gaston County before even realizing I’d been on a bridge.
I wanted to get to Atlanta before rush hour, so I made very few stops. A mistake, I later learned, at least on Good Friday, when the traffic is considerably worse at 3:00 than it is at 5:00.
The Cheshire Bridge Inn (cheap rooms close in with full cable) was full, so I landed at a garden variety Red Roof Inn. True to the commercials, there was no mint on my pillow. I coped, since there were a Waffle House, a Krystal, and a Picadilly Cafeteria within a block. Not bad…
PJ came over about 6:30, we had a quick dinner at a surprisingly good burrito joint, he had to work afterward, and I had an entire Friday night to schedule.
I didn’t schedule much. I was tired and cranky and my rotten mood was back. So I drove around Atlanta, reacquainting myself with it and getting annoyed when I landed in Buckhead by accident, stopped by Kroger to get Funyuns and juice, watched a little TV, and went to sleep.
I figured I’d start “really” being in Atlanta on Saturday…
