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May 07, 2005
One More Mint Julep for the Road
ATLANTA, GA -- May 7
A day off for Diana, and a day on for Todd. While the bike sat in the grassy knoll of Mother Crow (aka the charming bungalow owned by Jarboe) and the hosts slept in until their usual 12:30, I enjoyed a nice morning in the garden catching my blog up through May 6 and fending off the monster insects you only see this far south of the Mason Dixon Line.
Jarboe's house is like a museum of morbid knick knacks, Swans memorabilia, and the odd kitschy stuffed animal or three. Every time I pass a corridor, bureau, or window sill I see something new. Soon, though, the characteristic strong mixture of coffee and espresso Jarboe makes every afternoon was poured and the hosts were milling about doing their "morning" email rituals.
Soon thereafter, it was time to go and have our adventures for the day. The centerpiece of this tour was to be a cookout being held in a sprawling flat-roofed haphazardly-added-onto Frank Lloyd Wright sort of Bungalow east of Atlanta. One of the many ostensible occasions for this shindig was the going away party for Jarboe's old art school friend Tamara (who did many publicity and Swans photos over the years among other things) who is moving to Belgium with her new fiance (these lovebirds apparently have the further impressive distinction of likely being the only couple to have actually met through the New York City singles bar scene). However, in Georgia they like to have multi-purpose parties and an open door policy of friends of friends coming together.
This resulted in a bizarre amalgam of suburbanites, older folks, and art scene types mingling in the cozy atmosphere of a house that looked even bigger from inside what with its sprawling split-level rec room, back screened in porch, trampoline, and huge patio where venison burgers were being cooked among other poultry delights.
The caretaker of this carnage turned out to be the most interesting fellow in the whole house. Due to his role in Georgia secret agencies over the years in what morphed into Homeland Security, I'll refer to him simply as L.P. His career highlights include being a bike racer in his prime (both motor and pedal powered), owning one of metro Atlanta's first real record stores in Decatur at the age of 19 where he had a small studio in which legendary hits like Earth Angel and Purple People Eater were conceived, and working for the government in various covert capacities over the years. We were obliged to pose for a photo when all was said and done, though I've taken the necessary precautions.
Meanwhile, it was Derby Day and for the second year in a row I accidentally experienced the live thrill of the race at a swank locale by sheer accident. I didn't even remember it was going to be that afternoon (the precise date becomes somewhat relative once you've been on the road for more than a week), but soon we realized Tamara was an expert on mint juleps and had steeped some Maker's Mark in mint all night for this occasion.
Within minutes several of us were all situated in front of the big screen TV wading through the hour of hype NBC has to contrive to turn a 90 second race into a 2+ hour televised spectacle.
As the race postscript winded down (congratulations Giacomo!), we moved on to other pastures in a meandering barhop through the Virginia Highlands area, Little Five Points, Freedom Park, and other Atlanta hot spots. Riding in the car with Jarboe is always an experience, as she knows every one of the zillion back roads and long cuts inside the 285 loop. Nary a mile goes by that she's not pointing out some notable landmark of Atlanta history, both personal and general.
The most distinguised of the bars was The Vortex, which is known for its well priced variety of excellent booze, entirely too nice and shining new bevy of motorcycles parked out front, and jukebox of horrible 80's spandex-metal anthems that every woman in the bar will sing along to word-perfect. Chimey on tap and Old Potrero shots for the gimmicky price of $6.66? It would have been heaven if not for the music; I actually do enjoy an embarassing variety of 80's rock, but none of the 6 played during our stay there were exactly my cup of hairspray.
Many roads and bar couches later, we finally wound our way home and it was time to give Diana a night-time pre-load to make the morning's dawn departure as easy as possible. Knowing there'd be no dawn rising for my decadent hosts, and not wishing to disrupt their sleep, I said my goodbyes that night. Another tradition in the Jarboe universe is the inscribing of a furniture item by every houseguest who visits. The last time I was through in 2002, it was a lamp shade (which can be seen in the gallery).
This time, there was double duty to be done with a black wooden bureau that will be lacquered once it is filled, and a perfectly ugly rag doll. I photographed the dresser after I was done, but in my haste to get packed and begin my measly 4 hours of sleep before the next day's iron butt run to Florida, I forgot to get a pic of the doll. At this point, I even forgot what I wrote.
I crashed into the pillow around approximately 2 am, set the alarm for 5:45, and hoped for the best in the next (and perhaps most ambitious) leg of the journey.
Here's the Gallery for today:
No riding, no playlist.
-- T & D
Posted by Todd at May 7, 2005 11:11 PM