A Week in Atlanta: A Four-Dimensional Experience
My last visit to Atlanta was 16 years ago. I loved it then, as a wide-eyed, scared 19-year-old on a budget, spring break road trip via Greyhound. This spring, as a woman in her mid-30s, I was glad to return to Atlanta’s warm embrace.
The first time I was in Atlanta, I rode in to the questionable Greyound station and stayed in a sketchy hostel. I was also dazzled by the clean, open spaces the Summer Olympics had recently created, along with cops on bicycles, and the World of Coca-Cola.
This time, I came by my own vehicle, stayed in a nice place on the northside through AirBnB, found a wonderfully flourishing coffee scene and was once again dazzled by the World of Coca Cola. Some things don’t change.