I suggest you board the midnight TRAIN to Georgia !

I am always looking for new and unique items to sell in my gift shop.  Attending various gift shows whenever possible, I’ve wanted to attend the Atlanta Buyer’s Mart for several years now. This year I was determined to make it happen.  Since I firmly believe that if God wanted me to fly He’d have made me lighter, I opted to drive the fifteen plus hours to get there.  Accompanied by my sister we left a day earlier than planned due to the forecast of snow

We drove through several snow squalls, but nothing much until we were in South Carolina.  Apparently the snow had begun further south several hours earlier.  More than ten hours into the trip we passed several accidents, abandoned cars and detours.  At one point, we were stopped on the interstate for nearly a half hour without moving an inch while an accident was cleared away.  I was overwhelmed with joy when the familiar pink and orange lettering that defined dunkin donuts caught my eye.  I needed coffee like an addict needs drugs.  When the girl cautioned us that there was seven inches of snow less than an hour ahead of us, the stress eating commenced and we broke out the grapes and snacks we had brought along for the trip.    We decided after a few hours of driving in the heavier snow that we were pushing our luck and needed to stop for the night.  At 3 am, twenty miles short of Columbia, South Carolina, we gave in and got a room for the remainder of the night.   As it happened, the most stressful and frightening part of our trip thus far was walking from the car into the hotel. Apparently, plows and shovels are in short supply down south since no attempt had been made to shovel the sidewalks or plow the parking lot! Driving in and listening to the radio, and then watching TV in the motel room, an episode of the twilight zone came to mind.  As the reporter droned on about abandoned cars along the interstate, various school closings, warnings to keep off the roads etcetera, I was prompted to get out of bed and look out the window again to see if there had been a sudden increase in the intensity of the snowstorm which we thought had ended as we were pulling off the highway.  There had not.  At that moment, I decided that all the weather reporters in SC and GA had to most certainly be men, because in actuality, if the seven inches were measured with a ruler, they’d find it was more like 4 inches! A side note to women everywhere, if a man from down south tells you something is 6 inches, you’re in for a small disappointment!
 

By 10am, it was obvious to us that driving conditions would not be improving as the day wore on so we decided to take our life in our hands again and make our way out to the car.  No, they still did not bother to shovel the sidewalk! We could not fathom why this little bit of snow was affecting the entire city.  This would barely cause a delayed opening for schools at home.  Georgia may not get snow that often, but this wasn’t the first snow they’ve ever had. I thought there was no excuse for the roads being in such terrible shape, until we almost reached our destination.   During the last leg of our journey, the interstate was closed completely.  We presumed a horrific accident occurred ahead of us, because we were detoured off the highway.     I couldn’t resist the temptation of becoming the proverbial rubber-necker as we came parallel to the cause of the delay.  It was not an accident at all.  They actually closed the interstate for the plows to drive through, and it became very clear to me why the roads were in the condition that they were.  It was not because an event such as this is rare and they did not have enough plows as broadcasters kept reporting.  Anyone from the north would have been able to see the problem right there…in front of me at that very moment.  The first truck was salting and sanding while the plow followed not five feet behind plowing away the salt and sand he had just spread!      Apparently road crews are native Georgians who have never been north in winter and were never offered any training for this type of weather.  They simply wait for the sun to melt everything away. On the drive in, we wondered what became of the inhabitants of all the abandoned cars along the road, many of which were not in accidents, but merely parked on the shoulder on remote stretches of highway.  Where did the people go? It was as if they were beamed out of the vehicles by an extraterrestrial force.  There was nothing within walking distance of where they stopped. 

We were happy to arrive at the hotel and contacted our uncle who lived  50 minutes away, suggesting if the weather cleared in the next four days, we meet for dinner.  He chided us for not staying with him, but we felt commuting on these icy roads would be foolish and declined his offer.  We regretted that decision the moment we walked into our room.   The black and gray décor was uninviting, and aside from the $182/night there was an additional $30/night parking fee with no in and out privileges.  We were being held captive.   The room had no coffee pot, but came equipped with various built in temptations aimed at getting the maximum amount of money from you as possible.  I was appalled at the prices of the snacks offered for my convenience… A can of soda that would cost 30 cents in the grocery store was $4.00   12 oz. Bottled water $5,  Two small bags of m&m’s… $5, mini bottle of wine… $21 and so on. A cup of coffee in the room was $5. What caught my eye was a small white box with a picture of a large screw on the front.  The label identified it as a “get lucky kit.”  Reading further, it contained a condom, gel, and two breath mints for a mere 11 dollars.     I remember laughing hysterically and stating this may be the only bargain offered by this hotel… two screws for the price of one… one physical and the other financial!  I decided I had to record this by taking a photo with my cell phone.  I propped the box against the wall on the desk to take a better picture.  Then it happened.  The box fell behind the desk! The space was so narrow I couldn’t get it back out.  I panicked!  How would I explain an $11 charge for a get lucky kit on my hotel bill to my husband?  My efforts to move the desk away from the wall were futile. The desk, huge and heavy wouldn’t budge. Struggling for 10 minutes, my sister and I managed to drag the desk about 2 inches from the wall and using a clothes hanger, moved the box close enough to the edge to accomplish the retrieval.  Relieved and physically spent,  I picked up my cell phone, dialed my uncle, and told him we’d be staying with him for the next 4 nights! 

Georgia on my mind...

I walked admiringly around the monument of the waving girl posted along the Savannah riverbank.  The talent of the artist was evident, and it was easy to imagine her mortal likeness running out to the river’s edge. Depicted waving her towel enthusiastically to greet the ships, her dress billowed in the breeze as her dog stood loyally at her side.  This was her claim to fame… it is why she’s immortalized in bronze… she simply ran along the bank waving her towel in greeting as the ships went by.  Was it the size of the ships that traversed this part of the river that spurred her excitement? Or was she really trying to flag them down in hopes that they’d take her away with them to ports unknown, a place that, in her mind’s eye, would be more exciting than here.  After dark, she’d exchange the towel for a lantern.  I’d call that persistence.  Perhaps she just wanted to attract a man…any man!  As the story goes, one day she met a sailor and fell in love; his promise to return to her was never fulfilled.  She never married; forever waiting for her true love’s return… dying years later of a broken heart.  And here she was… preserved after death, waving at ships and still waiting for what would never be.  A shrine to romance or stupidity, I’m not sure.

 Growing up further north, I can recall children stopped playing when a tractor trailer was approaching, and ran to the side of the road pumping their fists in the air until the driver responded with a tug on his air horn.  Yet, no one felt the need to commission a statue to record their actions.  More likely they were yanked back away from the roadside and scolded by their parents for safety’s sake.

I have to wonder… where were the waving girl’s parents?  Did they not tell her that attracting strange men sailing by could be dangerous?  At the very least they could have warned her that some men may be inclined to take advantage of a willing young girl, easily infatuated by the lure of a sailors stories, Especially when they were only passing through, and leaving town unlikely to ever be seen again.  And is this not the south?  What about all the books and movies that depict southern women as anything but free spirits running in wild abandon, greeting any man who sails past them? Is it possible the locals knowingly romanticized the story of a flirtatious young girl, who inadvertently fell in love while looking for a way out?  Perhaps it is why Ray Charles sings of being unable to get peace of mind in Georgia.  And, think of the lyrics of that song (what little there are).  Could he not come up with anything worth singing about?  How did it become so famous?  It makes me wonder if folks here are simplistic or just plain simple.

All things aside, this second trip to Georgia in as many months contrasts with the one previous, in that I would kill for the breeze depicted in the statue standing before me.  It is hot.  And although the faces and demeanor of those around me  are  joyous in the heat now radiating from the sun, rather than the bitter cold and ice that was the weather last time I ventured south of the Border, I was beginning to second guess my choice to  vacation in the Florida Keys.  Georgia is almost half way, and I am feeling a little like Lucifer must have felt as he progressed from the heavenly climate that composed his comfort zone, and was plummeting into hell.  Right now, I am guessing I’m somewhere around purgatory!