The competition took place in Rome, maybe an hour or so west of where Katie lives, and was part of the festivities surrounding an air show . The combination of barbecue and the USAF Thunderbirds was a hard one to resist, but we did decide to take the scenic route, so to speak, in getting there. We had to pass near Woodstock (a really cute little town I've been made aware of through a business associate), so we decided to stop in and poke around for a couple of hours.
Our first stop was breakfast at J. Christopher's. I'd been a model calorie citizen all week long; time to fall off the wagon in a big way!
Granola added to pancakes? Genius!
After breakfast, it was time to grab coffee and explore. My opinion of the town? Let me put it this way, it's literally the perfect girls' day venue. Very small, really only two main streets downtown, but the shops are fantastic. I'll be honest, I get really bored really fast with downtowns that are jammed with boutique after boutique filled with Vera Bradley bags, expensive candles, cocktail napkins with witty sayings on them, polka-dotted signs, and pre-packaged pasta and olive oil gift sets. Can you picture the kind of store I'm talking about? Yes, those. This little hamlet is different - think lots of fashion, but at a price point that us normal people can get behind, with a smattering of coffee shops, yoga studios, hippie art nests, independent bookstores, and yes, an olive oil and vinegar shop, just to keep it real. I spent way too much money but at least I came home with tons of cute shopping bags...
I am a SUCKER for cool logos.
Cute, no? And see what I mean about the day? I get intoxicated just looking at it.
Katie could hardly handle this place...
No, this is not a figment of your imagination. Pure awesome on wheels.
Because I found this hilarious. How cool would it be to have this nonchalantly hanging on your wall?
We stopped in at the Vienna hot dog place, where Kate grabbed a chili dog before we hit the road.
Stomachs full and bank accounts depleted, it was time to head west towards Rome. We parked at the Braves stadium (do you know how many years it's been since I watched a baseball game? Something about walking past the ball fields gave me a powerful nostalgic urge...) and rode the shuttle to the festival grounds (accompanied by a little boy who said "Airplane!" approximately 19,875 times...).
I got a huge bang out of this guy's shirt.
The festival was everything you'd ever want it to be. I think sometimes that if I were ever asked to present America in a nutshell to a visitor, I would want to take them to one of our small-town festivals. They so perfectly encapsulate who and what we as Americans are, replete as they are with human beings of all shapes and colors and sizes (because, yes, heavyset is very much a part of our national identity), families in all of their various configurations, food - terribly unwholesome but in such abundance, games and noise and bright colors and music and shouting; so many, many things to see and opportunities to be entertained... Somehow, I always feel a sense of pride and patriotism when I end up at shindigs like this. Sure, we have our flaws; irritable parents yell at wailing, overheated children; clueless ignoramuses stand chewing on their fried turkey legs like zombies, right smack in the middle of the path of oncoming vehicles; trash cans overflow and lines are long and traffic gets snarled, and yet... I can't help but think that there isn't another place on Earth where we can gather in places like this, without fear of being attacked, or of going without; where, even though we might not like the jerk who cut us off in line, or we may not want a fried Oreo, at least we can coexist in relative peace, and hey, there's always fried cheesecake at the next food stall. I know we as a nation are far from perfect, and hey, I even admit that we're walking down the wrong, wrong path and it won't always be this way, but I'm not too proud to say that I'm grateful for the security, the comfort and the prosperity that have been my birthright as an American.
Anyway.
ANNNNNDDDD, speaking of patriotism! I FINALLY got to see the USAF Thunderbirds in REAL LIFE! Why all the caps? Let me explain it this way: when I was about 13, I wanted to be a fighter pilot (well, either that or an astronaut. Nope, neither one happened). These guys in their sexy F-16's and cool uniforms were the epitome of heroes to my starstruck teen self's way of thinking.
My 35-year-old self didn't exactly fall prostrate in adoration, but it was still pretty cool. And I did feel a sense of pride at being a citizen of the most powerful nation in the world, one that can afford to send out some of the most sophisticated war-making machines in the world today, just to give its people a good show, and yet is pretty good-natured, in spite of all of that. Anyway. Enough patriotism already.
Awwww.......
Got to eat some darn good barbecue, too! (I bought it from a vendor; barbecue competitions are not really about feeding the masses so much as impressing the judges, which is really dumb, in my opinion.) I also got to meet Randy and Kirsten and their buddies and their babies, and try some of Randy's (shriveled but delectable) grilled sausage, all of which was terrific fun.
The sky-writer's message to the long lines of shuttle-riders waiting below... Hey, don't worry, be happy!!!
Great as these things are, after awhile, you've seen what there is to see, and it's time to move on. Kate and I headed back to Alpharetta, but it was a fall weekend in North Georgia, so the festivities weren't over yet...
A couple of bowls overloaded with potatoes and brisket and horseradish sauce plus a pecan pie and praline later, and we were both downright hashed. It was a pretty straight line from there to the prostrate position, and blissful unconsciousness. All being said, I couldn't have asked for a nicer Saturday.
No comments:
Post a Comment