So today was a fun day for two important reasons. It featured lots of sights viewed in the comfort of air conditioning, and offered lots of places to sit down. Of course, those weren’t the only reasons for fun today, but two of the big ones. We visited the Georgia Aquarium, reputedly the biggest in the world. The major feature here was the whale sharks. My father didn’t believe me that they could have even one of these enormous creatures (the biggest fish in the world), but it turns out they don’t have one—they have four. They also have 4 manta rays, which are also enormous. To top it off, none of these creatures were hatched in the aquarium, they were actually flown there, full size, from Southeast Asia. Apparently UPS really can deliver anything…. We spent quite a bit of time ogling the gigantic sea life from every angle imaginable, including underneath the tank! So impressive. What I think impressed me most was the fact that this all exists in the middle of downtown Atlanta, which is a landlocked city. Most other aquariums that I know of and have been to sit right on the edge of large bodies of water (the Shedd in Chicago is on Lake Michigan, the Baltimore Aquarium is right on the Chesapeake Bay, Monteray on Monteray Bay in CA, you get the picture). But nope, all this is smack in the middle of Georgia, surrounded entirely by city. Which is what makes it all the more impressive. I would definitely recommend this to anyone visiting Atlanta, especially with kids. Or adults who act like kids when in aquariums (read: Morgan).
After the aquarium, we visited the Margaret Mitchell House, which is actually where her apartment was, in which she was living when she wrote her legendary novel. It was a small but impressive museum. I admit to really knowing nothing about this woman, so it was definitely educational to learn more about her and her life, as well as a little bit of background on her book. Funny sidenote: The tour guide kept talking about how, when Ms. Mitchell stacked up all the type-written chapters of her book, they made a stack 4'11" tall, almost as tall as she (Ms. Mitchell). The lady kept gesturing to show about how high that would be until quiet little Morgan piped up and informed that group that she was 4'11" tall. Everyone's head swiveled around and looked more closely and interestedly at Morgan than they had before.
Anyway, there was also a room dedicated to the book and the making of it into a movie. This was especially interesting as that room focused somewhat on how David O. Selznick really changed much of her story when he Hollywoodized it, despite all attempts (real or imagined by him) not to. I admit that its been about 15 years or so since I read the book, and thought perhaps it might be time to read it again, with a more adult perspective than the last time. In the gift shop I picked up a 2-hour long DVD about the making of the movie. Only for the true die-hard fans I guess—can’t wait to watch it with Mom!
Prior to dinner, we headed back to the hotel to relax for a bit, during which we watched a relatively minor thunderstorm blow through Atlanta. Given the forecasts for the evening, we decided to venture the 4 blocks up Peachtree Street in the car, rather than chancing it on foot. Words cannot describe how relieved I am that we made this choice. Almost immediately upon leaving the parking garage (and, admittedly, going in the wrong direction on Peachtree from our hotel), all hell broke loose meteorologically speaking. I’ve never felt a car dance around in the wind like Morgan’s was, and after several Southern U.S. cities were flattened by tornadoes this spring (Tuscaloosa, AL, and more recently, Joplin, MO), I was envisioning us getting caught in the EF5 that would flatten Atlanta. The 11 o’clock news revealed that we only ever experienced straight line winds, but holy hell, what winds!!! At one point something blew across the hood of Morgan’s car, which, according to April, looked like a small child. We sat in the car, with limited visibility due to the monsoon, watching block after block of lights go out in the middle of town. The scariest point was when we watched a traffic light arm pivot 90 degrees and almost smash into the building that it was sitting in front of. Imagine my relief when we finally arrived at our destination, and had to go downstairs to get to the theater. At least if an EF5 did hit mid-town Atlanta, we’d be safely underground.
Evidently, however, this was nothing compared to what was going on at home in the same storm 500+ miles away. A photo message from Andy revealed a flipped over tractor trailer (empty) in the yard of his freight dock, and Facebook pictures of deep water in front of shopping centers, and status updates stating that my hometown was “a hot mess.” Apparently this storm was one of the worst to hit my home county in some time. Thankfully, no one was hurt, but it made for a wild and wooly evening all along the Atlantic seaboard!
But back to the Shakespeare Tavern—what a neat place! It’s a total not-for-profit (or non-profit, honestly can’t remember which) organization, with the food prepared and served entirely by volunteers. In fact, it seems as though the only paid people in the whole deal are the actors. Who were fabulous!! So were the volunteers too. It was like dinner theater with a twist. And the play was great. True to Shakespeare down to every line, but modern delivery and acting that allowed you to follow along even if not a scholar of the Bard. They performed “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” and during the play-within-a-play scene near the end after the wedding, I was in tears I was laughing so hard. I would DEFINITELY recommend this if anyone visits Atlanta.
Got back to the hotel, and almost cried when we saw “out of service” signs on the elevators. We were staying on the 12th floor. I thought we were going to have to sleep in the lobby, or else they would need to provide sherpas to carry us up 12 flights of steps. Luckily, the guy working the front desk was able to use the fireman’s key to take us up, ala the elevator operators of the first half of the 20th century.
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