Sharing a Coke, a Smile, and Margaret Mitchell

Tired but happy, I'm touristed out.  My intrepid companions and I got off to a late start this morning--well, three of us did.  Yvette was able to haul herself out of bed, get showered and dressed, go off and have breakfast, and return before I even woke up.  Then there was the chore of rousing my sleeping babies and getting them ready for a day of sightseeing--a more difficult chore befalls no mother.

Along with Stone Mountain, my must-see Atlanta attraction was the home of Margaret Mitchell.  With Maddie providing navigation, we trudged nearly two miles up Peachtree Street toward the small apartment building in which the amazing Mrs. Marsh wrote her one and only novel.  On the way, a Starbuck's was sighted, and nothing would do but that we had to stop for the obligatory coffee-based drinks.

Maddie made a friend on our way to MM's House

Here I want to say something about the word "Peachtree" in this city.  I had been duly warned that I would find the word everywhere, and I knew from reading GWTW that Peachtree Street was Atlanta's Civil War main drag.  What I didn't realize is that there are so damned many Peachtree Streets.  Peachtree Street NW and Peachtree Street SE, and on and on.  Damn, get a new name already, Atlanta!

Atlanta sports some fabulous architecture on the many Peachtree Streets, including the Fox Theater, a Moorish-design movie palace from the 1920's.  There is apparently a huge pipe organ inside, but there was construction going on so we couldn't really see anything except the outside.  They do play cartoons there on Saturday mornings--wouldn't that be a hoot?

Maddie especially enjoyed the architecture, although she also seemed to be fascinated by the many parking lots.  What we did notice about the buildings along Peachtree Street is the relative newness of them.  While some date back to the 1910's, most are of later construction.  Even the churches along this street, and there were several, looked old but really were not.

Finally, we reached Margaret's house.  As can be seen in this photo, the apartment building was not very big.  It was originally a single-family dwelling but was turned into apartments sometime around World War I.  John Marsh and Margaret Mitchell began their married life in the downstairs apartment, Apartment 1.  Both John and Margaret were working at the Atlanta Constitution at the time of their marriage, but an ankle injury sent Margaret to the apartment for a lengthy recovery period.  It was during this recovery that she set up a little desk and typewriter and began work on her magnum opus.

The apartment does not contain any of the Marsh's original furnishings, but a visitor gets a sense of how they made do in such a small living space.  They had a three-quarter size bed (and John Marsh was over six feet tall), and a little table in their bedroom served as their dining area.  The bathroom was actually wonderful, with a claw-foot tub plenty big enough for a long, luxurious soak.  The kitchen was tiny, and the ice-box was out on what looked like a little service porch.  The one thing still in place from Margaret's time was the tile in the entry hall.  I stood on the very tile Margaret stood on.  Wow!

The front door to the Marsh apartment is directly opposite the stairs leading up to their neighbors' apartments.  At the foot of the staircase, on the railing, is a lion's head newell.  Margaret would rub it when entering or leaving her apartment--just for luck.  While the original head was lost in a fire, I did rub the replacement head--just for luck.

The docent told us a little about the restoration efforts done to save the Mitchell apartment building when the rest of the neighborhood became very run down.  Surprisingly, it was Mercedes Benz that put up the money for the restoration, and not just once.  A fire nearly destroyed the building during restoraation, so Mercedes covered that too.  I think my nephew, who is very proud of his father's employment at a Mercedes dealership, will be very happy to read this.

There was much more to see than just the little apartment.  The building also housed the usual assortment of museum items, including some of Mitchell's original letters and copies of pages from the original GWTW manuscript.  The manuscript itself is in some bank fault (the docent did not say which bank--did she think we would use the information to stage a heist?).  The last of the heirs to the Mitchell estate died just a few years ago and apparently left the residue of the estate to the Archdiose of Atlanta.  Yeah, that's a little weird, and I wonder how the Archdiose will handle such a matter.

In a little building behind the apartment house, a room was dedicated to the movie version of GWTW.  Here was a replica of the oil painting of Scarlett that Rhett through a drink at when he found out that she still had the hots for ol' Ashley.  Also on display was the door from the movie Tara.  Oh, what I would have given for that door to be real!

Hysterial--that is NOT a camera in Maddie's hand.  It's actually
a little pillbox that she bought for herself at the gift shop!

Wishing she could enter Tara....

My beautiful girls on Margaret's porch

Look who's peeking through the curtains!

Once I had left the better part of my fortune at the Margaret Mitchell gift shop, we decided to give a try to Atlanta's MARTA rapid transit system.  The nicest possible MARTA employee helped us with ticket purchases and even got us on the right train, right car, to get to our next destination, the World of Coca Cola.

The MARTA runs waaaay underground

Kudos to the Coke company on an excellent museum/tourist trap.  Damn, it was awesome!  Our tour began with a wonderfully funny (and queer as a three-dollar-bill) guide.  There were people on our tour from all over the US as well as Jamica, Columbia, Poland, and Brazil.  The presentation begins with an overall description of the museum and then its into a little theater for a very clever animated film.  The film, Happyfication, was adorable, and included important little messages about exercise, sharing, living in the moment, and more. 

The layout of the museum was especially clever as it kept people moving along while still not feeling like you were being herded.  There was an exhibit on Coke in pop culture that featured works by Norman Rockwell.  Another section had various forms of Coke advertising and sponsorship, including....

Wait for it....

ONE OF TONY STEWART'S DRIVER'S SUITS--AUTOGRAPHED BY SMOKE HIMSELF!!!

There were lots of photo opps available, and we missed very few.

Certainly one of the best parts of the World of Coca Cola was the 4-Day film.  It was sort of goofy, about a wacky scientist and his assistant who try to uncover the secrets of Coke.  While the film and effects were great, it was Yvette's reaction that really made the experience worthwhile.  From the first movement of the seats (which they warned you would move), Yvette hollared.  And whenever anything  came at her from the screen, she hollared.  When cool air or a few drops of water blew on her, she hollared.  When a little thing on the back of the seat poked her, she hollared.  I can't even describe here all that went on in the movie because Yvette's reactions had me laughing so damned hard.  Talk about getting the most from the 4-D experience--that's our Yvette!

In the tasting room

The tasting room proved to be one of the best features of the museum.  Divided into sections for each continent, you could taste any or all of the Coke products.  This corporation has its fingers all over the earth, and each region has its own particular taste and products.  Winners of the Best Taste Award as judged by Yvette, the girls, and I went to Inca Cola from South America, a watermelon-flavored drink from Europe, and Cherry Fanta from North America.  Between enormous burps, the girls also noted that a drink from Djibouti tasted like mouth wash. 

In the tasting room, I got myself pranked by three little boys with angelic faces and mischief buried deep inside.  As I approached the European section, these little fellows were standing nearby.  "Try this one," they suggested, pointing to a drink called Beverely from Italy.  "Is it good?" I queried.  "Oh, yes," they assured me, their eyes shining with innocence and goodness.  So, I put some in my cup and gave it a shot. 

Those little bastards are lucky I didn't spit it all right back out at them.  I don't know what's going on in Italy these days, but drinking Beverely ranks as one of the worst taste sensations of life.  Of course, the naughty boys delighted in the face I made as I poured out the remaining Beverely from my cup.

It was now that Heidi strolled over to the European section, and, with the help of the boys, we got her to try Beverely as well.  Hee hee!!

The culmination of the visit to the World of Coca Cola was, of course, the gift shop.  Gifts were purchased for others as well as for ourselves--hella fun!  By this time it was about 4:00, and Yvette and I found ourselves desperately in need of some foot resting.  The girls, however, still had plenty of spring in their steps, so they took off for the world-class Georgia Aquarium.  I suffered a little lump in my throat as they went off--all by themselves, sightseeing in a strange city.  They were like grown-ups.

All together once again at the hotel, we enjoyed the nightly happy hour which consisted of wine or mixed drinks and some snack foods (sangria was the speciality of the night, but Yvette's sangria is way better).  This proving insufficient in terms of satisfying the giant hunger of a day of walking, we went to the Park Avenue Deli right around the corner from the hotel.  Fabulous dinner was followed by half an hour in the hot tub on the roof of the hotel.  And now we're all back in the room, happy and relaxed--except for Heidi who wants ice cream.  Well, hell.  Ice cream doesn't sound half bad.

Gotta go.

Oh, practically styling an Afro in this jungle climate.  But I'm owning it.