Atlanta: Day 1

Well, my bestie, Alison, and I are off on another adventure.  If you missed the last one, you can visit here to see how we took on the nation's capital. 2018 finds us in Atlanta and we're excited to share the trip with you.

Being one of the most change-averse people I know, I made a vow to be open-minded (take deep breath) and try new things (easy, girl) outside of my comfort zone (ok, here's a lunch sack...). The first exercise was in our lodging. Rather than find a comfy/cozy Westin, we opted to both experience Air BnB for the first time. After hours of searches and asking various hosts a litany of questions ("the front door doesn't appear to have a lock. Does it lock?"), we selected an apartment in Buckhead, Atlanta's way of saying, "I got ya, girl."

When we arrived in ATL, our first stop was lunch at The Varsity. It's unassuming in a "we've been open for 90 years and for 24 hours/day" kind of way. The prices were reasonable and the food was good and utterly unhealthy.

As we headed south today, it was with some lingering trepidation that I took off, still wary that this whole Air BnB thing is just a front for human organ trafficking.  The "check in" process did nothing to alleviate my fears as we met our host in a parking lot, he handed me the key and gate clicker to our place, and then instructed me to follow him as we drove to the apartment. Reluctantly, I followed the order, wondering to myself what was it I read recently about how to call 9-1-1 from your cell on the sly.  Was it press and hold the start button? No, I think it was press the start button like five times. Oh, who am I kidding? I've never done anything sly in my life and in the unlikely event that I would actually need to try to execute this maneuver, I'd more than likely snap a pic of my feet, then the last words I'd hear would be Siri saying, "I'm sorry. I didn't understand your request."

We parked.  He led us inside the building and to our door and motioned for me to use the key. As I was thinking, "well, here it goes. This is it.  I hope my family knows I loved them," he watched me open the door and said, "well, ok, then. Have a nice visit." Non-event.

After counting our organs and being grateful that we still had all that we came with, we made a Target run. Forgetting we weren't in Nashville anymore, Toto, we marveled at the two-story Target and enjoyed the process of navigating the two floors with our carts.

For dinner tonight, we tried Bistro Niko, a wonderful place that Zagat calls "a casual but upscale 'hot place' that makes you feel like you're sitting in a cafe in Paris." Indeed.

Alison and I have been friends since we were in kindergarten. As far as I know, we've never liked the same boy and never voted the same way. But it's these differences that make our friendship all the more unique and rewarding.

Editor's note:  Alison would like you to know that we have voted the same in at least two presidential elections.