“I” Before “E” Except After “W”

It all began two weeks ago when my boss stopped me in the hallway and said, “When you get a chance, I’d like to see you in my office.” He’s not usually that formal, and while I had no fear of getting in trouble, it did sound like something serious.

He said, “Someone signed up months ago to go to a conference in Atlanta next week, but she can’t go. The boss suggested that you might be a good person to send instead.”

I’m usually up for a trip, so I said sure.

I was to fly down on Tuesday, and the conference started on Wednesday. I immediately began thinking “Hey, if I fly down really early on Tuesday, I can have half a day to explore Georgia.”

But where to go? Five options popped into my head.

  • The Coca-Cola Museum — The last time I was in Atlanta, in 1990, I intended to visit, but I was a little early. As in a week early. As in a week before the museum was open to the public. But admission is $16 and that’s too much to pay to be advertised to by a product I don’t like.
  • Jimmy Carter National Historic Site — I visit presidential sites, but this was just Jimmy Carter and besides, he’s still living in his house so you can’t tour that. Which leaves his high school and his brother’s gas station. (Don’t you chuckle when you hear people say that Carter is a better ex-President than he was a President? That’s not setting the bar very high, is it?)
  • Andersonville National Historic Site — I’d like to see it sometime, but there isn’t enough there for a special trip.
  • Roosevelt’s Little White House Historic Site — The place where FDR was hanging out with his mistress when he died. I’d like to see it sometime, but so would my wife, so …

I’m kidding of course. When I realized I could spend half a day in Georgia doing whatever I wanted, I immediately decided to try again to see a Swainson’s Warbler. I toyed for a bit with trying to see Roosevelt’s house and the bird, but that would have been pushing things. (More on the bird in future posts.)

The closest spot to see the bird was south of Macon, which is about 80 miles south of Atlanta. I got to the airport a little before noon and collected my rental car — a Toyota Yaris. “Yaris” is Japanese for “we put the speedometer in the wrong place.” It’s not behind the wheel where it’s supposed to be. It’s off in the middle of the dashboard in its own little hump. For the five days I drove the stupid car, I kept looking at a blank dashboard and rarely had any idea how fast I was going.

Otherwise it wasn’t a bad car. It was really quick in the low gears, although it labored once I got it up around 80 40.

Once I decided I was heading to Macon, I looked on line for a good place to eat lunch. That’s how I ended up at Nu-Way Weiner Stand.

It wasn’t a large place, and even though it was almost 2:00 when I arrived, there was a steady flow of customers. It’s been in this same spot since it opened in 1916.

A very friendly young woman (that’s her on the right with my “medium” Diet Coke.) told me the specialty of the house was the Chili-Slaw Dog, so that’s what I ordered, along with crispy French fries. What I got was not-very-crispy French fries and a tiny hot dog died an alarming pink color not usually associated with adult food.

It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either. If you’re ever in Macon and in the mood for friendly service, a hot pink “weiner,” mediocre fries and a glass of Coke that could double as a wading pool …

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