It was with great sorrow that I traded in my Georgia license and tag to adjust for my new address. Despite my misgivings and perpetual bad luck with Atlanta, I hated to bid that final farewell.The distress over my exodus has forced me to reevaluate my current state of mind. The conflict between loving my job and aching for Atlanta. I certainly had no use for the bloody town when I lived there. I wanted to escape from the Hell that was Atlanta and move to something smaller and friendlier. But, as we all know what absence does, I've stopped to consider exactly what these pangs are about.
First and foremost, the Braves are in Altanta. People give me hell when I say that, reminding me that they're on TBS all summer long. They simply don't understand that it's not the same. Nothing like sitting in the ball park, drinking entirely too much beer, eating way too many hot dogs, watching a baseball game in the scorching heat. I didn't go to very many games, mind you, but the mere prospect of watching a live game whenever I felt like it, that was enough.
Secondary to the Braves, I also find myself yearning for I-285. Something about 6 lanes of traffic between which to dart is rather engaging. A challenge, even. If you are driving below 65 (the speed limit is 55), you'll be dead within minutes. I fear that when I go back to visit, I'll have forgotten the art of driving in Atlanta. I'll be engulfed in a barrage of rubber and aluminum before you can say "peanut butter".
I hated Atlanta, for the most part, while I lived there. Whenever people said, "You live in Atlanta? Cool! Neat town!" I'd say, "Yes, it's a great place to visit." Emphasis on "visit". But as I accumulate speeding tickets and my social life wanes, I find myself longing for it more and more.
Atlanta has an overabundance of young, single people. The town where I live now is inundated with married people. Most of them, I think, got married fairly young. As in, 18 or so. If they're not married, they're divorced with children and if you've read Rugrats, you know how I feel about those carpet waggers. Every time I meet a new person, male or female, I find myself looking for his or her ring. I think to myself, "Please, please let this be a single person!" It rarely is.
Not only is the social aspect a bit formidable, but people here drive very slowly. 65? Not on your life! These are the kind of people who aren't sure if the light is the correct shade of green so they deliberate on this for a few minutes before going through it. I find this most frustrating. While they are trying to make up their mind, I am watching steam come out of my ears in the rear-view. Unlike them, I don't hesitate very long before honking my horn. This usually earns me a solid glare, but at least I make the light.
However, as my blood pressure rises due to their apparent lack of color vision, I occasionally stop to appreciate the history of this town. While I'm sitting there at that green light, I sometimes look over at an old oak tree and consider that this tree must have been standing there for over 100 years. I might also find an older couple holding hands while they stroll through downtown. There is an element of peace in that - something not so prevalent in Atlanta.
Another asset of a small town is retail service people. I once wrote a letter to the management of an Atlanta grocery store specifying my disgust. The rudeness of so many of the retail people amazed me at times. Here, they are much more friendly. They usually ask if I found everything I needed and seem genuinely concerned about my shopping experience. They appear to be kind, generous, relaxed people. That may be because they fear you know their mother, but they're benevolent all the same.
There is a certain comfort to be found in an old, well-established smaller town. When you walk down the street, the people you pass are willing to look you in the eye. Your chances of seeing someone you know are greater simply because of probability laws. The houses are more charming, the restaurants more inviting and the shops more intriguing. People don't rush from place to place in an attempt to avoid all contact with the human public. Nature and history are a part of the town instead of a limb used for children's field trips.
The differences between the two, big city and small town, are rather distinct. And, as with all things, each has it's strong and weak points. I suppose peace and tranquility will be a pleasant change for a time, but I'm sure my age and status will keep me longing for a different lifestyle. The anonymity and activity that burgeons from a big city are usually more appropriate for a single person in her twenties.
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