Sometimes You Have To Pay The Piper…

I so didn’t want to drag my sorry ass out of bed this morning. Have you heard the old saying If You’re Gonna Play, You’ve Gotta Pay? I am paying the piper this morning. Not that I got trashed or anything. I had a grand total of one beer last night. I don’t do any kind of serious drinking on work nights. No, I am just tired as hell. I was up at the usual time yesterday and ended up getting in from Atlanta shortly after midnight, going to be a little closer to one, so I have pretty much been up for two days now with a four hour nap in between.

Had a pretty darn good time though. A couple of the usual suspects showed up to observe Velociman pass through town like the migration of a rare bird, even Kelley and Key drove down. I had the opportunity to also meet John Cox as well. New blood. Good conversation, good beer, although Key had some sort of pink martini combination that I would definitely have to shy away from. It would be much too easy to slurp those down.

The drive was somewhat interesting for me as well. Driving in to Atlanta I went across the top end and cut up Roswell Rd and then down Windsor Parkway. What’s interesting is the fact that there are some really beautiful houses down Windsor Parkway. The last time I drove down that road was 25 years ago. At that time the area between Peachtree Dunwoody and Brookhaven was affectionately knows as Nick St or Nicklebag Alley. You get the general idea. Slums, plenty of houses falling in. Pull up at a couple of certain stop signs and four or five black guys would run out to the car if your window was down and try to sell you a nickle bag, which of course was $5 at that time. Woe to the unwary traveler who was not familiar with the area. When you pull up at a stop sign and have several black kids run at your car from all directions the first reaction most normal people have is either to hit the gas and get the fuck out, or roll up the windows and lock the doors so quick that your head would spin. I suppose every locale has it’s own Nick St, or at least they used to. I don’t know anymore, maybe it’s hidden a bit better now.

Anyway, all of the falling in tenements have been replaced with small fortresses and tiny mansions more akin to the Brookhaven area. There are still a few of the houses that were there two decades ago, but most of them are gone.

Heading home I took the fastest route, straight down Druid Hills to 85 South and out I-20 west. The problem with driving home late at night when I am already tired, in addition to my night vision sucking so bad is the fact that after having lived in West Georgia for 18 years I find I am scared of traffic. I grew up in Atlanta. It was nothing to run across five lanes of traffic to catch a bus, or drive doing 90 MPH around the Atlanta International Speedway, officially known as I-285. If you’re not doing at least 75 you are slowing down traffic. And those fuckers don’t just drive fast either. They swerve around all of the other cars bobbing in and out of lanes so close to each other it would make Don Garlit proud. Even though I spent three years commuting from out here to Norcross every day until 2003 I am not used to it anymore. I white-knuckled it the entire way out of Atlanta.

Working on my second cup off coffee now and I am starting to wake up a bit in the time it has taken me to write this and correct the typos. Spelling only folks, the grammar will just be fucked forever. Forgive me but no amount of schooling can take away from 40 years of redneck living particularly when the last 21 has been working at my particular choice of careers.

I had originally planned on staying home last night and pumping out about fifteen or twenty paid posts and twice that of normal stuff and then do my paperwork for the meeting this afternoon, but that rare bird of prey Shit Mummage Man was calling and sometimes the call of relaxation and good company just cannot be ignored.

It’s now about six, so I have to hop int he shower and head my happy ass off to boss people around again. It’s also meeting day for the retarded folks that I work with. I shall return, but a bit later today unless I get some good pics between now and then.

10 throughts on "Sometimes You Have To Pay The Piper…"

  1. Ky Derby Open Trackback Weekend

    Unfortunately, I have to work most of the day on Saturday – but I will be home for the 133rd Running of the Roses…

  2. Hell, dude…I’m tired this morning so I can only imagine how exhausted you must be at this point. I’m glad you made it, though.

  3. Oy, my aching head…

    Not from the beers, but from Matata walking on my head trying to roust me out of bed.

    Great evening…and yes, the Crip was there too.

  4. Stop the car for a second… you’re not telling me a nickelbag costs more than five bucks now all of a sudden?

    What the hell is the world coming to?

  5. I damn sure didn’t feel like getting out of bed. Today wasn’t much easier either…

  6. I’m humbled you made the trek to see li’l ole me. Even if you didn’t bring a mug, and even if there was a restaurant with its’ sign blaring across the street. You cudda walked in and throwed some weight around. Got me a mug.

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