Yesterday I returned from a long weekend in Georgia. It was my first time in this state since my family drove to Florida decades ago, back before man-made geographical boundaries meant anything to me, back before I understood that the American South was a fundamentally different place than the Northern environs from which I hailed, and back before I developed a latent prejudice for Southerns as being, well, simple.
So it took an old friend’s wedding to get me to go back to Georgia. The wedding was in Athens, the ultimate college town and a place that any music lover would be stoked to visit. I’ve never been a big fan of Athens bands (B-52s, REM, Widespread Panic, blah) but still wanted to gain a sense of what made this hotbed of indie music so special.
It was 35 degrees and rainy in Boston when I got on the plane to Atlanta, so I was not that sad to leave. The flight was uneventful, as was the rental car procurement (I was “upgraded” to a Chevy HHR, which resembles a miniature hearse). During the 90-minute drive to Athens, I was struck by the lushness of the landscape (the effusively green towering trees and thick grasses) and the 70 mph speed limit (I thought life was slower in the South, but then again, this is the land of Nascar.)
I-85
I was excited to reunite with my college friends in a college town. Even if Athens wasn’t our college town, at least the atmosphere was familiar. Here is the front lawn of a fraternity on Sunday morning. Ah, the thoughtless degradation in pursuit of a fleeting good time… that brings back memories!
Party’s Over
