Here are some observations from my first week in Georgia:
- The word “Georgia” has no “r” in it; at least, not if you’re from Georgia.
- If you eat out and you order “iced tea,” they don’t even bat an eye, just bring you sweet tea, as if there were no other kind.
- If you order pancakes and there is no syrup on the table, the sweet tea is a fine substitute.
- There are no one-syllable words in Georgia, and every word has an invisible “ey” or “ay” in it. Georgians have a lovely sing-song cadence to their dialogue.
- The beds in Georgia are the rough equivalent of slabs of concrete in Texas. (Well, I have only slept in two: the first was in a cheap motel on night one, and I was thankful I did not have to shoot my way out the next morning; the second is in this somewhat aged hotel in the small burg of Rockmart, where the manager is a sweet, if slightly off-center, eccentric, old lady who routinely misses her upper lip by a quarter inch when she applies her lipstick.)
- Southern hospitality is alive and well in Georgia.
- Georgia home builders should be flogged for building the houses a mile off the ground and then putting a pitch on the roof that appears to be the most direct line they could draw to God’s heaven.
- I haven’t seen a single peach. If I do, I plan to eat it.
In closing, a general observation about solo travel (especially if it is for work): Adventuring is less adventuresome when you are by your lonesome, but going it alone awhile does, I think, make you more keenly aware of the goings on around you. In other words, it turns you into a snoop when you go out to eat. You quickly tire of the conversations in your own head and begin to “overhear” the conversations of diners nearby…or even across the room.