Momnesia

Every October, we visit Six Flags over Georgia for their annual Fright Fest. The park gets decked out for the holiday, and character actors provide extras like trick-or-treating, spooky story time and musical performances. I remember being chased around the candy store by a creepy actor when I was in middle school, and every year I take my daughter for some pre-Halloween horrors.

Side note: I don't know why being immersed in a world of monsters and murderers is considered a fun thing for kids, but they love it, so... I'll just try not to over-think it.

We got our tickets free online (hooray for Coke Rewards), skipped the Flash Passes, packed a cooler and met some family at the site.

Parking, by the way, was 15-freaking-dollars-what-the-hell-people!

Cobwebs and gnarly branches stretched over the landscape, building facades and ride terminals. Theme music like "Superstitious" by Stevie Wonder and "I Put a Spell on You" by Screamin' Jay Hawkins played on rotation from the loudspeakers. The park train had been turned into a haunted attraction. The Dodge City Bumper Cars were enclosed and filled with smoke machines and lasers. The old-timey Hanson Cars track was lined with large-scale story boards containing a Halloween story for children. Seven-year-old Jackson and 6-year-old Emerson - were excited, "oooh"-ing and pointing at everything they saw. Thirteen-year-old Jacob was appropriately cool, but also pleased.

The park is not crowded at this time of year. Once school starts back and Little League is in full competition, people just can't schedule the time - so lines were short and frustrations were low. We jumped onto the Log Jamboree immediately, and then the Monster Manson. Hey, we had little kids with us. We started light.

We moved on to the kids' area, Bugs Bunny World, where we rode the Wile E. Coyote Canyon Blaster, a surprisingly fast and furious mini-roller coaster.

The Batman coaster was closed down for repairs, something that disappointed us all - and later in the day, the newer Dare Devil Dive also closed. So we hopped over to the haunted carousel; Up, Up and Away, the hot air balloon ride; and the Rockin' Tugboat. Let me tell you something important: That tugboat looks like a little kids' ride, and it doesn't do much in comparison to the roller coasters I adore. But that effer boat is the only ride in the park that can make me throw up. I never, ever ride it. We lost Jackson and his grandmother to the aftereffects, and left them with my iPod while they recovered.

Then we hopped it over to the Scream Machine - because we were doing things in no flippin' order, whatsoever.

The Great American Scream Machine, a wooden coaster. When it opened in 1973, it was the tallest wooden roller coaster in the world, and riders were given a "Red Badge of Courage" button for riding the coaster.

This is where we ran into trouble.

"I'M NOT GOEEND TA RIDE IT!" Emerson screamed.

Sigh...

Y'all. I realize that we should be sensitive to our children's feelings. We should not push them further than they can handle. But I do not do dramatics. And I know my child. She's a daredevil, and she would like it. Screeching is just the way she expresses nervousness. Or... anything, really.

Long story short, she rode that dang thing with my arms wrapped tightly around her, assuring her at every turn.

Afterwards, she jumped up and down with glee: "DAT WAS AWESOOOOOME!" she shrieked.

Score!

We moved on to the Dahlonega Mine Train (inexplicably long line, with a lady I think might have been a hooker), the Dodge City Bumper Cars (dead spot in the middle, so we didn't actually get to go anywhere), the Hanson Cars (Emerson is not getting her license until she's 35), then back to the Log Jamboree. Speaking of water rides, Thunder River and Splash Mountain are not open in October. Boo, Six Flags!

Then we took a break. Depending on where you are in the park, where you're parked and how many people are leaving at the same time, it can take between 20 and 45 minutes to get back to your car. Leaving as the park closes, parked at the back of the lot and insist on waiting for a tram? You'll probably die while waiting to get to your car. People will assume your corpse is part of the holiday decor and they won't realize what happened until they clean up in November. It will make the national news.

But at 3 p.m., parked close and willing to walk? No time at all.

We raided sandwiches, chips, cookies, and bottles of water from the cooler and made a picnic on the ground behind the car. My little Hyundai hatchback was nicely sheltered by the two obnoxiously oversized, matching Suburbans on either side of us. We even had room to lie down and enjoy the clouds go by overhead. Thanks, fossil fuel wasters! We nourished, hydrated and chilled for about 45 minutes, then went back inside.

As the day goes on, the park gets more crowded. The lines were longer, but there were things we all still wanted to ride. In checking out rides and finding them closed (Batman, Thunder River, Dare Devil, Splash Mountain) or embroiled in ridiculously long lines, we saw that the Ninja only had about a three-minute wait. Emerson was just tall enough to ride.

Yay! What 6-year-old girl would be afraid of this, right? The Ninja was originally built for Conko's Party Pier in New Jersey, where it was known as Kamikaze. It was relocated to Six Flags Over Georgia in 1992 and was the tallest roller coaster in the park at that time.

Oddly, this did not actually make her happy. Her shrieks could be heard for miles. No, these were not the kind of shrieks that your child issues when legitimately scared or hurt. This is just her normal speaking voice when she gets slightly nervous. Little Miss Drama Queen takes everything to 11.

"Do I have to ride it?!" she shrieked. I nodded.

"Nooooooooo!!!"

"Let's just go ride the Wheelie," Jacob suggested.

For some reason I'll never figure out, the Wheelie is a very popular ride. We waited in line for 30 minutes, the longest wait we had all day. Emerson alternated between excitement at riding the Wheelie and pouting at the thought of riding the Ninja.

"But I don' wanna ride anyfing what goes upside-down," she explained.
I pointed to the Wheelie. "You mean like that?"
She frowned and kicked the pole in front of her.

This went on for a while, until all I had to do was look at her and nod in a faux-menacing way. Then she would throw her body around like it was made of Jell-O. It was kind of hilarious, actually. But I decided to put a stop to the stubborn pretend hysterics with psychology. And Mom said I'd never use my college minor. Of course I will, Mom - to torture my own child.

"You know what? Maybe we shouldn't ride the Wheelie," I said. "If you don't want to go upside-down, this isn't a good idea."

"Noooooo!"

"Well, then, you might as well ride the Ninja."

I hate to tell you how easy it was to manipulate her into insisting that we ride the Ninja. But it was like a scene from Bugs Bunny:

Me: "Yes!"
Her: "No!"
Me: "Yes!"
Her: "No!"
Me: "No!"
Her: "Yes! NinJA! NinJA! NinJA!"

Bottom line, she got on the roller coaster without further problems. We strapped in, and the ride started. Everything was fine. Really...

...until a quarter of the way of the very first hill, when she started kicking wildly.

"WE'RE GONNA DIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!" she screamed. "WE'RE GONNA DIIIIIIIIEEEE!"

Holy. Crapturds.

I began looking for a way off the coaster... but there was nothing I could do. I couldn't even hold her hand, because the overhead restraints are like iron maidens. I settled for folding her legs in mine.

"Emmie, honey, it's only three minutes and it's very safe. Deep breaths, baby. Take deep breaths. Remember our yoga?"

No bueno. She was too far gone. As we crested the hill and began our descent, she screamed one long keening note.

I am the worst mother in the world.

At the bottom, she went suddenly silent.

"Oh. My. God. My child has fainted," I thought. "She is unconscious, and they will call an ambulance, and they will revive her with smelling salts, and give her an IV of saline to hydrate her. She will tell them how I manipulated her into riding this stupid, effer roller coaster. Then they will take her away and put her in foster care and I won't see her again until she shows up on my doorstep, pregnant, at 16 years old."

Just as I was resigning myself to kidnapping her from her foster parents and spending the rest of my life traversing the globe on the lam... the most glorious sound I've ever heard. "Haaa! Ha hahahahahaaaaa!"

She was laughing! She was NOT lolling unconscious in her restraints! She was laughing, and she laughed all the way to the end of the ride!

"DAT WAS AWESOME!" she screamed again as we got off the roller coaster. She flew into a fierce hug with her monster mother, and kissed me on the cheek.

"Fanks, mom! You show me dat my fears of dis roller coaster were wrong!" she laughed, and skipped towards the exit. "I rided a big-girl roller coaster! I'm seven years old, now!"

She was ecstatic. And, apparently, a year older. I stumbled behind her, bewildered. Excuse me, Universe, but - what? Are you supposed to reward crappy parenting?!

Oh, well. No harm, no foul.

We had declared it her turn to pick a ride if she rode the Ninja, and she did. So it was her call.

"Pick something fun, Emmie," Jacob pleaded.

I don't think the Convoy Grande, a children's ride that moves at a speed best described as "glacial," is what he had in mind. But that was her choice. Even more unfortunate for Jacob, they wouldn't let me on the ride with Emerson so my good-sport nephew went with her.

In a race between this convoy and a turtle, it would be a photo finish.

This tall, masculine teenager gangling off the sides of this low-speed parade of toddler-sized Tonka trucks was about the funniest thing I've seen in a long time.

"Go, Speed Racer!" I shouted as he chugged by.
"Shut up!" he hollered, with a grin that has slain a dozen middle-school girls.

They went around a couple more times while I laughed until I choked.

"Slow down, Lightning McQueen! Too fast!" I yelled.
I'd repeat what he said, but he was speaking in sign language... sort of.

We let Emmie run around the children's area some more, riding the Fiesta Wheel, Little Aviator, Santa Maria and Tweety's Tree House. She ran from character to character, collecting candy - that Jacob and I very thoughtfully ate for her. Because we were being helpers.

Night was falling. Sweet! That's when the monster actors are out in full force. Zombies. Swamp things. Vampires. Random furry crazy-toothed animals. This was the best part!

Except, no. Nope, nope, nope. Two lame-o zombies, both protected by park personnel, is all we saw.

Where were these dudes? I want to hang out with them!

No matter. We'd had ridden everything Emerson was tall enough to get on, and Jacob had taken care of the larger stuff - Goliath, the Georgia Scorcher - before we even met up with him. Plus, it was pitch dark and we had been there for 10 hours.

We skipped the line for the trams and walked to our car, playing keep-away from each other with the candy bag... what there was left of it. Emerson was asleep before we hit the expressway, and Jacob and I laughed all the way home.

Like all of our visits in October, this trip to Six Flags was complaint-free. We'll be back next year.

If you go (in October):

Bring: sunscreen, a jacket for later in the day, $15 for parking, $10 per person for the Haunted House, good walking shoes, a small backpack to carry snacks and water bottles.

Leave: grumpiness, fear, tiredness.

Oh, you just read that headline and thought "No way. You can't do Atlanta in a single weekend." And you'd be right. But you can do five major tourist attractions in two days with children - although it will be a whirlwind. This plan is specifically for a weekend trip to the city's main tourist attractions, but it can always be modified for longer stays. It's good for any point of the year, but Labor Day weekend is coming soon. There's also a short break mid-fall, and the Christmas holidays to come. The cheapest and most efficient way to carry out this plan is with an Atlanta CityPass. Emerson and I used them this summer and it was fabulous!

Friday - Hello, Hotel
The last thing anyone wants to do is fight traffic for two hours before a full day of activities. I suggest you drive up to Atlanta just after work on Friday. If you're like me, you crash at your parents' house - and your mommy cooks an enormous breakfast Saturday morning, yay! But if you aren't fortunate enough to have the convenience of friends or close family with whom to bunk, I suggest grabbing a hotel on the MARTA line.

There are lots of great choices downtown: Hipster hangouts like the W Hotel and Hotel Indigo; business style hotels like the Westin and the Marriot; and super cool boutique boudoirs like Twelve Atlantic Station and Artmore. I recommend Glenn Hotel for chic city living (and their SkyLounge rooftop bar), the Hyatt for core service and location, and there's a Hampton Inn that is a good value for budget travelers.

Me. Want. Martini. Now! Hello, SkyLounge. I love you.

Regardless, if you leave Augusta by 5 p.m., you can be there by 7:30 p.m., which either puts you right smack in the middle of dinner service or - if you filled up from the drive-through - gives you just enough to time to throw down your gear and hit the pool for a couple of hours.

Check out the downtown Atlanta dining guide available here. Yes, there's a Ruth's Chris Steakhouse, but that's a chain you can hit in a lot of cities. And it's not significantly different than The Chop House at the Augusta mall.

I recommend: Dua Vietnamese Noodle Soup, Thrive and - oh, wait, you have kids. Just go to Landmark Diner. It's good food, at a good price, with some panache. A little touristy, but fun.

It's like the 50s threw up in here.

Saturday - Waterlogged
Saturday is all walking. Lose the sandals, chuck the Chuck Taylors and get out your sneakers. Pack a cooler bag with snacks and drinks, or you can expect to mortgage your house to buy munchies. I usually just treat the cooler bag as my purse, except due to the prevalence of liquids and crumbs, I stick my electronics in Ziploc bags. I also pack a change of clothes for each kid (yes, in ziploc bags). You might need it - we did. Okay, so the bag is heavy to begin with, but it lightens as the day goes on.

8:30 a.m. - Start towards the Georgia Aquarium, but stop on the way at the CNN Center to get tickets for the 4:30 p.m. tour. It will only take a minute or two, and they often sell out of tickets by noon.

8:45 a.m. - You want to get to the Aquarium before it opens for several reasons. First, there is usually a line. It's the largest aquarium in the U.S., so it's quite the tourist attraction. Second, you have a bit of a hike to get there - just ask the concierge for directions. Trust me, they know. It's best if you cut through Centennial Olympic Park. It's a little confusing, but ask any City of Atlanta police officer, and they'll point the way with a friendly smile. Third, you don't want to miss feeding times. They're updated daily. Try for the seals, penguins and otters. You will find yourself squealing at the abundance of cuteness - and I mean you, Dad!

The aquarium is a huge place with lots to explore, but the highlights are: Ocean Voyager, with the famous walk-through tunnel and whale sharks; the beluga whales, penguins and touch pool in Coldwater Quest; and the touch tank in front of Georgia Explorer, with bonnethead sharks and sting rays. There's a two-story playground beside that, so expect to lose your kids for a while. Despite the Aquarium's size, children only have attention spans of so long. So let them lead you around. Likely, they'll be ready to go in a couple of hours.

Petting sharks is freaking cool. That is all.

Noonish - Take a walk back to Centennial Olympic Park. Let the kids run around like maniacs in the park and its playgrounds and have a picnic or buy some grub from Googie Burger. If it's hot, let them run through the fountains. They'll dry off quickly enough. If not, make 'em wait until after your next destination.

This does not come close to the crowds mid-summer. It was insane.

1 p.m. or so - Walk back through the park and play the free mini-golf course adjacent to the World of Coke museum. Then grab your tickets from the digital kiosk and step inside. To be honest, this was my least favorite of the tourist attractions we visited, but it was still pretty cool. You'll only kill a couple of hours, at most in here, but don't miss the 4D theater and the tasting room. I am now obsessed with locating a local source for Kinley Bitter Lemon soda - but it's not sold the U.S. Didn't the Geneva Convention outlaw torture?

DRINK ALL THE THINGS!!

4 p.m. - Back through the park up the hill to the CNN Center you go where you'll start your tour with a ride up the world's tallest freestanding escalator. It's in the Guinness Book. A quick note: They are crazeballs about security. Leave your Leatherman tool back at the hotel - and even if you have a permit for that concealed weapon, people, you're not getting it inside this tour.

Although the building is also home to Cartoon Network, the tour is about the behind-the-scenes production of news at CNN Center. Emerson and I didn't make it but about 20 minutes into our tour before I realized she just was not feeling it. Frankly, she was distracting other people enough that I thought it best to abandon ship. Six years old might be a tad young. I'd recommend no younger than 8 years old. However, she did thoroughly enjoy the gift shop. Unfortunately, my wallet did not.

From this perspective, it does not look impressive. Trust me, it is.

5:30 p.m. - You're done for the day, and probably ready for a meal. With smaller kids, after such a big day, I recommend delivery pizza and pool time. Older kids might still be raring to go, though. Your options are limitless, but consider hopping MARTA to Atlantic Station for some dinner, shopping and a movie. Or you might take the train to Lenox Mall for a similar experience. Alternately, you could try to catch a show at the Fox Theatre or a smaller local venue like the 14th Street Playhouse.

Sunday - Choices
Pack your cooler bag/purse again. You're going to need it.

On the CityPass, the three attractions from Saturday are fixed. But the last two tickets in the pack give you a choice between the High Museum of Art or Fernbank Museum of Natural History, and between Zoo Atlanta or the Atlanta History Center. The High Museum is the only attraction available directly from the MARTA train. The others require a relatively painless bus transfer. To be honest, I recommend checking out of your hotel as you leave, and driving to these attractions. They're pretty close together, but parking can be craptastic. Just depends. But you can always park at a shopping center and catch the bus again.

We chose the Zoo and Fernbank, and we drove. That was taking a chance, because I am the getting-lostested person you'll ever meet. However, since I can triangulate the position of both of these joints relative to Little Five Points (and I recently figured out how to work the GPS software on my phone [too bad I didn't do that before we went to Gatlinburg]), it didn't worry me.

9 a.m. - Arrive at the Zoo. Hopefully. I don't know what the buses do, so good luck to you on that. Because everything is outside, you want to start early. It gets hot quickly. Invest in an all-attractions armband for the kids. At $8, it's worth it for unlimited carousel rides, train rides, bounce-house time and rock climbing. And instead of going to the left with everyone else, go to the right and start at the kids' area. Hit the playground and rides first, so they don't nag you about it the entire flippin' time. Plus, you'll pretty much have the facilities all to yourselves. No lines. Emmie climbed up and rappelled down that rock wall for almost an hour straight. I tried to climb it three times... Mommy down! Massive fail! No good! Luckily, there were many benches nearby on which I could recuperate and shout encouragement to Emerson.

Harder than it looks, people. Don't laugh at me!

Now, you might think you should continue to the right - but no! Go back to your left because you want to see Meerkat Manor. And if you wait too long in the day, they'll go underground to hide from the heat. There is lots to see here, of course, including shows and other activities, but the biggest attractions for us were the pandas, the big cats and the petting zoo. I swear, if zoos were smarter, they'd skip the expensive exotic animals and just keep goats. There was no end to the entertainment! We did love to see the tigers around feeding time, though. I was really happy there was an inch of bulletproof glass between us, 'cause that cat was pissed off.

So cute!

Noonish - You're getting hungry. Have a picnic from your cooler bag in Grant Park (where some of "The Walking Dead" was filmed) - or enjoy the dining on site. We like Wild Planet Cafe because their kids meals are not a terrible deal at all, especially since Wild Planet's menu features all-natural, free-range, hormone-free chicken tenders and grilled chicken and all-natural, nitrate-free hot dogs. But, you might also be done with the Zoo, depending on your kids.

You can hop the bus back up Boulevard to Six Feet Under, or get closer to your next destination by dining in Virginia-Highland or Little Five Points. Try Noche or YEAH! Burger in Virginia Highlands; or take your chances in the ever-changing dining landscape of L5P. Do I sound bitter? That's because I am. I'm still pissed that Teaspace closed down 10 years ago, along with La Fonda Latina and Bridgetown Grill. Heck, I still miss African Brown Bag from the 1980s. Anyway, Vortex is always solid with an entertaining cast of characters, but the smoking laws make it 18+. Savage Pizza is good, but it's just pizza... Meh, stick with Va-Hi for dining. Noche has the best service - ask for Kelli.

Lobster taco, chicken empanadas, fried green tomatoes!

2 p.m.-ish - Fernbank is only open until 5 p.m. on Sundays, so this is about as late as you want to get there. Notice the giant dinosaur bronzes outside? That's your clue that the building holds a lot of awesome. It's not the American Museum of Natural History, but it's pretty great.

In the laaaaand of the looooooost!

There is lots to touch and play with in here, so even the smallest kids will enjoy it. Plus they show rockin' cool movies in their IMAX Theater! Highlights of the museum include Giants of the Mesozoic (dinosaurs are kewl), Sensing Nature and their rotations of special exhibitions. When we tried to go, it was during their extremely popular "Mythic Creatures: Dragons, Unicorns and Mermaids exhibition." We couldn't even park. Atlanta police were directing traffic. It was crazy. But their next exhibition is on Darwin, and then they do their annual Winter Wonderland, which is always lovely.

The swamp walkthrough is just one interactive exhibit.

5-ish - You're most likely done, and ready to hit the road. If you leave now, you can be back in Augusta before 8 p.m. And you could do that by hitting the drive-through. BUT! Why are you leaving Atlanta without a little Varsity love? They'll bring it right to your car, ya know. You'll have the No. 2, add slaw, with onion rings and extra ketchup on the side. Have a Coke to drink. Don't bother with the F.O. (Frozen Orange). It tastes like... childhood memories sent through a factory, reconstituted with preservatives, packaged and mass-marketed. Like "Stand By Me," but with a happy ending where they don't see a dead body but instead all get first kisses and frickin' luck dragons. But I digress... Point is, I guess, that I am the only native Atlantan who does not like the Frozen Orange. Sorry, Varsity. I still love you.

YES. THIS.

If you don't feel like heading back towards downtown, you could put some asphalt behind you and stop for a bite just outside of the city. Since you'll be coming back down Moreland Ave. to hit I-20, you could stop in L5P for dinner. I scoff at your efforts to park, though.

Another choice is to head to the area surrounding Stonecrest Mall off Turner Hill Road in Lithonia (about 20 minutes from the Moreland Drive entrance onto I-20). They have Gladys Knight's Chicken & Waffles! The other is to hoof it double-time to Social Circle and catch the Blue Willow Inn's famous Sunday dinners (about 40 minutes from the Moreland Avenue  entrance onto I-20). You know you want some fried green tomatoes!


Want even more asphalt? Stop just off the interstate in Greensboro, Ga., for some fast food. Take ya 60-90 minutes, depending on traffic.

9-ish - You're back in Augusta. Unpack your toiletries, leave the rest for tomorrow. Hope you had fun!

Now sleep. You have earned it.

In the perpetual game show "Why Can't Anything Go Right?" that is my life, my dad and I had to drive 30 minutes to retrieve my bank card from my sister, who had accidentally absconded with it. Say that five times fast: accidentally absconded. It's really hard.

Anyway, Emerson wanted to go with us. She loves to ride in her "Dadada's" (grandfather's) enormous Ford F-150, and she likes to chatter. She kept us entertained all the way there by drawing cartoons of each of us in humorous states of fear. "Dadada Steps on a Snake and Runs Away" was my particular favorite.

When that grew old, she tickled my neck. Y'all! I hate being tickled! I'd rather you punch me in the neck than tickle me. I can't explain it, except that I have to really struggle to contain violent anger whenever anyone tickles me. I've gotten better at controlling it these last few years because Emerson does it all the time.

"Emmie!" I cried, exasperated at having to repreatedly use my ninja-like swiftness to catch her fingers before she could wriggle them into my neck. "Cut it out, lady!"

"Why?" she giggled.

"Because I hate being tickled!"

You'd have thought I'd chucked cold water on her.

"But... but why don'tchoo lite it, mama?"

"I don't know. I've always hated it."

"Wull, I lub it!" she laughed.

"I know you do, Doodle. That's why I tickle you all the time," I said, and wriggled my fingers in her armpit. She shrieked and giggled, and I cut it out so my dad didn't smack me. No one likes high-pitched squealing while they're driving in Atlanta traffic.

"But, Mama, you should like tickles," Emmie said, eyebrows creased.

"Why?"

"Because! Iss fun!" she said.

"Not for me," I said.

"But tickles are good," she insisted. "Good tickles mean good times."


Well, now we know that she's apparently aiming for a career in advertising copy writing.

In my eternal quest for frugality - generally speaking, I'd rather do things than have things - I keep a list of "stuff we need." Currently, it consists of end tables for the living room, a rug for the bedroom and a stackable or apartment-sized washer and dryer (or one of those adorable European combo units).

That sounds odd, keeping a list of stuff I need in order to keep from spending money. But that's because I buy almost everything second-hand. We have a $3,000 leather Basset couch that I got for $300. An antique china cabinet that I bought for $100. A wrought iron bed due to Overstock.com's series of crazy mistakes (that also led to them sending me a second identical frame, which now resides at my parents' home). And so on. It takes time, and it takes patience, but like our hunter-gatherer ancestors knew, the hunt and kill are so very satisfying.

One of my dream vacations, I swear, would be a tour of European flea markets. This is the extent of my geekitude. And I am okay with that.

A couple of weekends ago, I went Craigslisting through Atlanta with my dad. I got a lot of stuff we needed. There were heavy things to load in his giant Ford F-150, and a lot of bending and carrying. We ate at the Varsity, and then wound through IKEA before heading home so I could cook them dinner.

Ha. Guess what, guys? After spending all day bending and heaving all over Atlanta, I found a hole in the butt of my pants. A significantly-sized hole. In the BUTT. Of my pants.

Between all of our travels, my dad and I must have passed 5,000 people, and not one of them - including my father, thank you very much - mentioned this hole to me.

Oh, it gets better.

In my rush to get out of Augusta with Emerson the night before, I had forgotten to pack any underwear.

So here I am, inappropriately positioning my behind in front of dozens of people who had a close-up view in their own homes - and then the thousands of people at the Varsity, IKEA, Publix, Walgreen's... oh, god. Oh. My. God. And no one mentioned it.

You may not believe it, but Atlantans are very polite people when they aren't driving. I've had gang members hold open doors for me. Everyone says excuse me. If you are missing the extra 10 cents cash it takes to complete a purchase, you will never have to leave the check-out line, because someone will step in with a dime.

Apparently, their politeness extends to keeping their mouths shut when someone's butt is hanging out of their pants. I flashed so many people, y'all, that I'm surprised they weren't stuffing dollar bills in my g-string. Oh, that's right - I wasn't wearing one!

I immediately called my friend Amber (who likes to be Facebook poked, by the way, please do it now) for some sympathy. Instead, she laughed so hard that she woke her two sleeping babies and pissed off her 13-year-old - until she told said 13-year-old the story, and she laughed so hard she almost fell off her bed. I appreciated her sympathetic ear so much that I texted her a thoughtful thank-you: a photo of my behind, clad in the offending jeans.

I decided to experiment. So I wore the same jeans the next day. All day. And do you know what people said to me? Nothing. Not a single word. When I finally said something to my family, they were surprised. No one had even noticed.

I think we can extrapolate from that - due to the fact that my family will spend hours making fun of a single crumb on your shirt, plus work it into holiday carols at Christmas - that no one in Atlanta saw any part of my bare bottom those two days.

Great.

I'm not sure if I am comforted by that... or if I am disappointed that no one was looking.

I was on I-20, headed to Atlanta, when my cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey..." says a male baritone.

"Hey," I reply. I don't recognize the voice.

"I, uh, I know I haven't called you in a while, but I was wondering if maybe we could get together tomorrow and kick it like old times," he said. I definitely have no idea who this is.

"Well, I'm on the road to Atlanta right now. Where are you?" I ask.

"... Who dis?!" he asks.

"Who dis?" I laugh.

"Um, I think I have the wrong number."

Yes, I think you do.

So we were driving from my parents' home to lunch at my sister-in-law's house in the Vinings/Mableton area of West Atlanta on the day after Thanksgiving. Just me and my Doodle, motoring down the expressway and cracking jokes with each other.

"Emmie? You smell that?"
"What?"
"Your bootie."
"Nuh-uh, iss your bootie!"

Because "your bootie smells" jokes never get old.

But, as I do on a regular basis, I took a wrong turn at Albuquerque. As a result, I ended up on the Road Formerly Known as Bankhead Highway. This is not the safest area of town, well-known for gang activity. But I still felt safer there than I do on Augusta's south side some nights.

I checked Google Maps on my Blackberry but couldn't get a bead on where I went wrong. These programs always give directionals I don't understand, like "go north on whatever road." Where the frack is North?! I'm in Atlanta! It's not like I can check a tree to see what side the moss is growing on.

While I looked for somewhere safe to turn around, we ended up at an intersection where I had to choose between driving straight into what looked like an industrial complex or bearing right. So I bore right.

My mistake. It seems the person behind me was also bearing right - right past my car at 200 miles an hour! A black SUV tried to pass me illegally by squeezing around on my left and hopping the curb with its tires. Two cars in the same lane? What could be better? Like peanut butter and chocolate!

Smash! The steering wheel jerked hard in my hands as fiberglass exploded in the air around us, skittering across my windshield and raining onto the pavement.

"What the (bleep)!" I yelped.

The black SUV lurched to a stop 50 yards ahead of where I came to a rest.

"Dangit... You okay, Doodle?"

She was fine. Hardly even scared. I put my blinker on and looked back to see if I could get to the side of the road. Then I turned to see where the SUV was parking.

Um... they weren't.

"HEY!"

The car was speeding ahead, away from the accident scene. I gunned it and dialed 911.

"911what'syouremergency?"

"I've just been sideswiped by a black SUV on David Lee Hollowell. I'm in a tan Dodge Stratus. The SUV is leaving the scene, and I'm trying to catch him."

"Okay. Where are you stopped?"

"I'm not. I'm following him. He's running."

"What road are you on?"

"I don't know, now. I was on Hollowell."

"Are you going east or west?" Really, people? We weren't all Boy Scouts.

"I don't know. I'm coming up on a red light at Northside Drive, I think. The SUV's stopped, so - HEY!"

"What's going on, ma'am?"

"He just blew through the red light. Dammit... I'm not going to do that."

Emmie's fine in the back seat. Not scared. If anything, she's interested and excited. But I'm not going to blow through a red light and chase this idiot. It's too dangerous.

"Ma'am? Did you get a license plate?"

(sigh) I never got close enough.

I return to the scene, and the dispatcher notifies an officer to meet us.

"Mama?" Emmie asks, politely having waited her turn while I was on the phone. "Did dat man juss' hit our car and den dribe off?!"

She is outraged. Her indignation is a constant source of amusement for me.

"Dats... dats... dats not cool!" she sputters. "Why did he do dat?"

"I don't know, Em. To make our car even more awesome."

"Wull, I call him a ayesshole!"

"... What?!"

"I call him a - "

"No! I heard you."

I can't help it. It's the moment of levity I needed. I laugh until I cry. The way she said "asshole" - the Southern drawl, the extra syllables - I've heard it said like that before, by a family member whom I shall not name. I know from whom she's heard the word regularly enough to get the right context and the unique pronunciation. And the thought of the horror that relative would feel makes me laugh even harder. I'll never tell.

My laughing just makes Emmie angrier. She growls and kicks the back of my seat: "Don' laff at me!"

"Emmie!" I gasp. "That's not nice. I'm not laughing at you. But that was a bad word you said."

Her eyebrows lift. "It wuz?"

"Yes. We don't say that word, sweetie."

Her face collapses. "I diddin know!"

"I know. That's why it's funny. If you did know, you'd lose a privilege. But you didn't - it was sort of an accident - so I'll just tell you. Now you know, and you won't say it anymore, right?"

"Only grown-ups can say it?"

"Well... we really shouldn't say it, either."

We wait for about half an hour while I text family members to explain the delay. In the interim, I tease Emmie about her slip.

"What was that you called him again?"

"I not goeend say it, Mama."

"Oh, but I forgot the word!"

"Ayesshole," she whispers.

"HAAAA! You said it!"

"MOM!!!"

And then more cackling while she kicks the back of my seat in anger. Before I grew tired of the game, an officer arrived.

"What's the problem, ma'am?"

"A black SUV sideswiped me and drove off."

"Where?"

"Right here at this corner."

"I see. Where is he now?"

What? I don't know!

"He. Drove. Away."

"Did you get a tag number?"

"No, sir. I could never get close enough."

"What direction did he go?"

"That one," I point.

"East? West?"

(sigh...)

In case you didn't know (haha), I'm rather a fan of the zombie horror/comedy genre of entertainment. There's much I haven't read, but little left to watch. So I've been watching "The Walking Dead" and enjoying the heck out of it.



Except... I don't think these people are as smart as they think they are.

Maybe I'm not being fair. I've had my Augusta, Ga.-based zombie survival plan mapped out for at least the last 5 years. Having a child really makes you take stock of what's important in life. And I'd say zombie defense is a pretty high priority. Oh, you don't agree with me? Nice knowin' ya, "Running Buffet."

Anyway, perhaps AMC writers think that being smart wouldn't advance the plot very far, but these folks are still doing it wrong. There are some basic survival rules anyone - in any situation - would naturally follow.

First, run and hide. Many of them have managed this pretty well.

Second, find supplies. Apparently they have an RV full of them, plus some camping stuff. Meh, second rate, but I'll take it for now.

Third, find defensible shelter on high ground. See, this is where they've begun to fail. They drove about 10 minutes outside the downtown area to the former Bellwood Quarry, pitched some tents and began domestication.

NO! People, this is beyond stupid. First of all, a quarry goes down, not up. This is not the high ground you're looking for. All you've done is made a giant people soup bowl for hordes of ravenous undead. You won't even be able to see them coming because you were too stupid to set up watches at the top.

Second, tents are not defensible. What are you - the Three Little Pigs? It's like defending yourself with a house made of towels. Zombies are undeterred by zippers. And they do not knock politely. Get your ass something with bricks and mortar - and very small windows.

Third, it's not that great a shelter. There's no bathroom, little privacy. You have to think long-term. And if we've learned anything from the new global media, it's that cramped conditions and lack of latrines make for outbreaks of disease. What's the first thing the Army does when it sets up camp? It digs the latrines. So, for those non-Atlantans who have never heard of the Bellwood Quarry, you should know that there are already some buildings on site. They're old, and they'd need shoring up, but they're better than tents.

Fourth, why did they drive West of the city? The population there is less concentrated, which could be an advantage if you want to avoid the undead, sure. But if they wanted that, they could have at least made it outside the perimeter. I-285 isn't that daunting of an obstacle, so stopping there was just lazy. They are literally a 10-minute drive to downtown.

Going West means the likelihood of meeting survivors with whom you can team up is also lessened. So are: access to supplies, shelter, weaponry, transportation, and fuel. The chance of finding assistance lies to the immediate North and to the East, which are more densely populated areas.

The answer for these fools is obvious, but no one has made even the slightest mention of it. Any native Atlantan (hi, y'all!) knows there are several areas of defensible high ground with amenities available within a reasonable drive. So, assuming you can't find security at Ft. McPherson, here are some ideas.

1. Stone Mountain


This is my first instinct for places to hole up during a zombie apocalypse. First, it's high ground - 825 feet higher than the ground, to be precise - and there's only one side pedestrians can climb. Some of that might be accessible to zombies with advanced motor skill control. But much of that climb is too steep, and the last 50 yards requires strength and a hand rail to keep from slipping. Second, there's a wall-and-glass tourist pavilion at the top that provides shelter, plumbing and cooking facilities. Third, that pavilion also hosts a transmitting tower. If you're going to reach survivors, here's where to do it. Fourth, you have an escape/reconnaissance route through the cable cars, so you can either motor up and down the mountain to get supplies and carry larger/heavier items, or to look over the situation on the ground. And, finally, as the area surrounding Stone Mountain is a protected wildlife preserve and heavily wooded natural area, there is plenty of wildlife and a lake full of fish. Them's good eatin's. Disadvantage: Once the plumbing gives out and the electricity fails, you'll have to port water up the granite basolith. But a pulley system could offset some of that annoyance.

2. Kennesaw Mountain

Residents of Cobb County are screaming for me to choose this favorite spot. Well, guess what? I'm not gonna. Not only is there no shelter at the top of the mountain (the interpretive center sits at the mountain's base), but there's a freaking paved road straight up to a parking lot on the dang thing. The hunting is fine, but water's a hike. Advantage: rocky and heavily wooded terrain impedes progress of large hordes of the undead and allows natural cover for survivors. Also good for building new structures. But the presence of a largely pine forest means no low branches, so building aerial structures has a low success rate. Questionable: the presence of Civil War-era canons on site. Do they still work? Hmm... could be useful.


3. Little Kennesaw Mountain - Um, see above, minus interpretive center and canons. Also: "little." Not good.

4. Panola Mountain


Slightly better than Nos. 2 and 3 is this unusual park that shelters rare plants of the Piedmont region. It's minimally developed, very rocky in parts, heavily wooded and features an interpretive center that offers shelter, plumbing and basic cooking amenities. It's not perfect, because there is a road that leads right smack up to the building. But it is isolated and unlikely to attract others - and thus, teeming with wildlife for hunting. In addition, there are areas of retreat deeper into the park. Disadvantage: Access to water. Streams run on the property, but I don't remember them being close to the structure. You'll have to port water from Panola Mountain Lake - but there's good fishing, too.

5. Arabia Mountain





Not so much a mountain as it is simply higher-than-normal rock outcroppings, Arabia Mountain is another nature preserve. It is unpopulated and sports a few ancient structures in various states of disrepair, yet the old quarry office can be made nicely defensible. It offers isolation, 360-degree views of the surrounding countryside and access to loose rocks/wood for structure-building and hunting. Nearby Lake Arabia provides fishing and fresh water. All that makes this still better than Kennesaw Mountain. Sorry, Cobb County. I know you're accustomed to winning things.


6. Brasstown Bald


Once you've stocked up on supplies, moving out of the city is probably safer for everyone involved. Fewer people mean fewer undead. And if you move north, you have the added advantage of the Blue Ridge Mountains and winter's freezing temperatures to form a natural barrier. As the undead aren't likely to shop at REI, temperature and terrain slow them considerably. It's a long drive to the highest point in Georgia, and thus a dangerous journey - but it may be the most rewarding. The mountain is topped by a high tower with all the necessary amenities. While there is a bloody great road leading up to the top, it's very steep, very long and many undead will likely shamble accidentally over the side at some point. Bonus! Disadvantage: Lack of water at the top means you'll be porting the wet stuff up the mountain; also, thick clouds frequently mask the landscape at the top, making watchful defense difficult. Can you imagine the horror of a horde of zombies shuffling out from an eerie fog? (shudder)

7. Fort Mountain


Ahhh... I like the sound of this place! A fort on top of a mountain? That's what Kennesaw should be, but is not. Fort Mountain offers copious shelter. In the park, there are 15 cottages. Elsewhere on the mountain is the Global Conference Center, a first-class resort with plenty of room. If things are dire, there is also the historic fire tower on the property. The forests, streams, and surrounding lakes are teeming with wildlife and fish for eating, and it's up in Chatsworth, Ga., about 90 minutes from Atlanta (if you go the speed limit, which is completely unnecessary without state patrol on the roads). That means it's closer than Brasstown Bald, but not as easily defensible. And on the way: barbecue. Yum.

So what would I choose, were I in Atlanta? If things are dire and immediate, I head to Stone Mountain. If I have time and transportation, I try to make it to Brasstown Bald, with Fort Mountain as a fallback.

Fewer options exist in Augusta, but it's possible to survive. Let me just say that rooftop transportation can come in handy for safety, signaling overflying rescue craft, and for reconnaissance and supply runs - as can access to the river for food and water. But you'll have to develop your own survival plan in the Garden City on your own. I have a family to protect.