Yes, the city is Atlanta. Yes, Atlanta can be hot sometimes. But for the love of god, quit calling it “Hotlanta.”
2. Nancy Grace
Whether she’s henpecking the word “porn” on national television or debating 2 Chainz on the legalization of pot, Nancy Grace has become America’s sweetheart when it comes to really fucking hating someone.
Given, she’s from Macon, which is about 80 miles south of Atlanta, but that’s still too close for comfort. And while you’re at it, it’s also best to never bring up Michael Vick here either. We like to focus more on the people who don’t make us cringe when we hear they’re associated with Atlanta. Take Martin Luther King Jr., for instance.
3. The “art scene” of Little Five Points
Sometimes it feels like the people who hang around Little Five are actually just actors hired to play in some sort of Truman Show-like movie involving trustafarians and goth high school students.
4. Murder Kroger
This supermarket on Ponce de Leon Avenue has even earned a spot as the infamous landmark with its own Wikipedia page.
And while the city is trying really hard to get people to start calling it the Beltline Kroger, it’s not catching. With or without the 28-by-186 foot mural of giddy animated folks frolicking and gathering fresh produce against the Atlanta skyline painted on the side of the building, it’s still going to be called “Murder Kroger.”
5. The fact that a GPS could get lost here
It’s like someone choked on a perfectly designed city and threw up the roads onto a map, thus giving birth to Atlanta’s Spaghetti Junction.
And then, of course, there’s the 71 narrow streets within the city limits that have a variation of the word “Peachtree” in their names. There’s Peachtree Lane, Peachtree Avenue, Peachtree Circle, Peachtree Plaza, Peachtree Drive, Peachtree Way, Peachtree Walk, Peachtree Parkway, West Peachtree, New Peachtree Road — and that’s just naming a few.
You’ve got a few parking options when you venture downtown: drive around endlessly looking for a free parking spot that you’re fooling yourself to find; pay to park in a lot that costs more than the event or restaurant you’re trying to attend; risk your life and sanity by taking the MARTA; or feel the wrath of PARKatlanta who seemingly hides in bushes in those little white cars, just waiting for you to take two steps away from an unpaid meter.
Or a paid meter. It’s whatever to them.
Really though, as the bumper stickers clearly state: “Nobody likes PARKatlanta.”
7. Pollen, everywhere
Springtime in Atlanta is what would you expect out of an M. Night Shyamalan film centered around an infestation of flower sperm and sneezing citizens smeared in yellow.
8. Remembering the Snowpocalypse of 2014
It’s no secret that Atlanta was paralyzed by the Snowpocalypse. One woman gave birth on the side of I-285, some had to spend the night in Home Depot, others were trapped in their cars for more than 24 hours. It was a cluster fuck of overturned trucks, sliding vehicles, and a sea of frantic Southerners moving only three miles in a 10-hour period.
Close to one thousand automobile accidents occurred that day as a result of a couple of inches of snow. Yes, a couple. Granted, it wasn’t just snow that screwed us up. It was really the solid sheet of ice packed onto the roads. Also having a heavy hand in our demise was the unprepared Governor Nathan Deal, who had obviously never even seen the Weather Channel — which is headquartered in Atlanta.
9. Our fast-food legacy
Not saying that Atlanta doesn’t have some great local places to eat. Where else could you find a slice of pizza smothered in mashed potatoes, gravy, fried chicken, and collard greens topped with candied sriracha bacon than Jack’s Pizza & Wings? There’s good food, but then there’s fast food. And oh, is there a lot of fast food.
Popeye’s, Huddle House, Waffle House, Arby’s, Moe’s, Church’s, Blimpies, Krystal, Chick-Fil-A — they’re all based in Atlanta, making it the number-one, fast-food capital in the nation. But at least Atlanta throws a little history into the fryer grease with the Waffle House Museum, home to the first — you guessed it — Waho. Alternatively, however, you could probably get the same experience just by staggering into one at four in the morning after singing organ karaoke at Church.
10. Chick-Fil-A being closed on Sundays
Sure, the home of those famous waffle fries, activist cows who can’t spell, and the original peanut-oiled fried chicken with pickles is all over the South. But with its birthplace being Atlanta, you’d think that would earn us the right to have it open on Sunday. But no. Even the original Chick-Fil-A Dwarf House in Hapeville is only open 24/6.
While keeping the Sabbath holy is all well and good, you don’t know true craving pain until you’re unbearably hungover with only a buttery chicken biscuit on your mind and pull into the barren parking lot to realize “Oh, shit. It’s Sunday.”
11. Rush hour
Which translates to “every hour.”
12. The OTPers
These are the people who live outside the perimeter. They think they’re too cool for the city.
13. The ITPers
These are the people who live inside the perimeter. They think they’re too cool for everything.