There's nothing quite like a road trip to make you feel alive. And there's nothing like a crusty gas station bathroom to make you regret it.



I love road trips, love watching trees whiz by, love reading billboards for places I'll never go. On I-85 South between Raleigh and Atlanta, the biggest pasttime, according to the billboards, is topless bars.

We arrived in Atlanta around midnight on Wednesday. The city can't have too many roads called "Peachtree," and we drove aimlessly around midtown in search of our hotel before giving up and calling for directions. creampopp cuted the front desk clerk into upgrading our room from a simple double to the freaking penthouse, which was a massive two-story apartment with a living room and kitchenette, private bedroom and bathroom on the first floor, and master bedroom and bathroom (with jacuzzi!) on the second floor. The window/skylight opened and you could climb out onto the roof!

On Thursday we filled our gullets at the free breakfast buffet, then scooted to Little Five Points for some graffiti viewing and shoe shopping. JB scored four cheap pairs at Junkman's Daughter while I tried on clothes that didn't fit me.

Walking back from lunch, we spotted Erin, who had left Raleigh at 4:00 that morning. Road-weary, she excitedly told us that she had just met Casey Spooner. He was staying at our hotel! We walked the remaining block and saw him getting into a white Jeep Cherokee. JB marched right over to him and told him that he had changed people's lives and even made the straight boys want to be gay.

dragondiva and starkirin arrived around 7:30 and the Getting Ready (and Getting Drunk) Frenzy began.

After four or five drinks and as many outfit changes, I followed Michael to the venue (which was a block from our hotel) and we chatted with other fans until the doors opened.

The first two bands were sucky so we milled around, looking at t-shirts and doing shots. By the time the band came on, I think most of us were pretty toasty.

The show was fantastic. The costumes were clean and crazy, there was loads of fog and pretty lights, the dancers were beautiful, and Spooner was insane and witty. He yanked me up (by my fishnet shirt) on stage at one point, screaming "I wanna start a riot!" and I stage dived into the small crowd.

We hung around afterward and talked to Spooner again. Michael asked him what kind of music he likes and he smirked and said, "Hmmm... I don't really listen to music."

On Friday we took the MARTA to Buckhead. This is a horrible place, full of franchise restaurants and frat-boy bars. Knowing nothing about Atlanta, I chose this area to visit b/c one of the schools I had researched is there. We passed the school as we walked, and I peered in the windows at the students' creations. The institute is located in an office building, but I suppose that's somewhat typical today.

We were rescued by one of MP's devo convention friends, this demented (in a good way) guy named Rick, who sped around the city in his little Prelude. One of MP's art gallery contacts met us at a space called Eardrum. We retreated to the studio in the back and chatted, then blew that joint for a bar in East Atlanta called The Earl. On the way Rick took us through a fantastic tunnel covered in graffiti.

On the way back home we stopped at the Pendergrass Flea Market, and marveled at the cheap garbage for sale. I really wanted to buy a framed photo of a waterfall which lit up and appeared to move. But I settled for a car charger for my cell phone ($10.)

The ride home was musical and sleepy. I saw a semi parked in a rest area that said "Duran Duran Trucking" on the side.