Atlanta, we might not always want to admit it, but the facts are the facts.
Some of the things they are saying about us are pretty much true.
So, let's embrace the following tenets of Atlanta life we actually love on the sly.
Each winter, we secretly pray for snowpacolypse.
We want it both ways.
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We laugh when schools close and groceries stores sell out of milk and bread at the mere mention of snow, and then break into panic sweat when our citywide infrastructural systems break down as quickly as a few inches materialize. Watch this. It's ok to laugh about the Snowpacolypse by now, right?
But for all the SNL pokes and headline jeers, we are not wrong to wish for snow. Because, the reality is, those wishes only result in actual snow every few years and snow days are totally fun.
Sure, if the storm hits at high noon instead of overnight, the city becomes a live action recreation of The Walking Dead; tales of horror etched forever into our consciousness. But when it behaves as a civilized storm, coming in the hours before breakfast? Well, then we put on our comfiest sweaters, light the fires in our hearths and watch as we are gifted a sip of the sweet, sweet nectar that is a cancelled-work snow day in the A.
We do love the rap game.
Atlanta is home to a staggering number of hip-hop artists, and the cultural icons that put them on the map.
Only Atlanta can boast of a roster of hip-hop artists with local favorites to include the near-mythical tag team of Andre 3000 and Big Boi in addition to T.I., Lil Jon, Ludacris, Future and the celebrated rapper/actor Childish Gambino. If Atlanta only liked rap, that might be a good little list.
But no, Atlanta, you love the rap game. Because you also gave the world 2 Chainz, Akon, B.o.B, Bankroll Mafia, CeeLo Green, Dungeon Family, Goodie Mob, Gucci Mane, Jermaine Dupri, K Camp, Killer Mike, Lil Yachty, MadeinTYO, Migos, Mike Will Made It, Pastor Troy, Rich Homie Quan, Waka Flocka Flame, Young Dro, Young Thug and, of course, the unforgettable Ying Yang Twins.
Now, that is an extensive list; and it is a part of our legacy. Beyond breaking new artists with Atlanta ties, we also support the businesses, namely the now controversial Gladys Knight's Chicken and Waffles, that support our hip-hop industry. The top recording spots all boast of their rap game ties, we lose our collective minds every time Drake shops in Buckhead and the debate rages on whether V-Live or Magic City will break the next big A-town superstar.
We have never yearned more deeply than for Chick-fil-A on Sundays.
There is nothing more Atlanta than Chick-Fil-A. Except perhaps the mid-drive realization that it is Sunday, and Chick-Fil-A is closed; a breast of rejection stuffed between two golden buns and served up hot. It's a realization powerful enough to make children cry.
Even Gunshow (and Revival) executive chef Kevin Gillespie knows our pain. In one interview with some kind of Chick-fil-A journalist, he recants a story of he and his old peers at Woodfire Grille joking "about the conundrum of waking up Sunday morning—it seems like clockwork— and dang, it's not available."
Welcome to Atlanta, America. Feel our pain. Also, Kevin has your back with this DIY recipe you can fix yourself on Sunday.
We can't quit Beltlining.
It would be easy to forget the time when Beltline tours were given in the hopes of drumming up support for the oft-discussed, underdeveloped Beltline revitalization projects. Those days are long gone; replaced today by "how-to DIY a paper lantern" instructionals for events like the Beltline lantern parade. Oh, we Beltline.
Atlanta historians may one day point to the Ponce City Market revitalization effort as the tipping point of the intown renaissance of recent years. Today, Atlanta has revitalized much of the east and west sides of the city, thanks in large part to the Beltline connectivity, culture and art. Bellwood quarry is on deck
You could make a case for the Beltline as the single most important thing to hit Atlanta since the 1996 Olympic Games.
When traffic is jammed the other way, we smile.
Living in Atlanta means traffic. Lots and lots of highway traffic. It means ParkAtlanta. It means I-285.
It's enough to send a shiver down our collective spine, which is why Atlanta is also a city filled with people who've developed traffic life hacks, sneaky cut-throughs (looking at you, Georgia 400 N at Exit 3), MARTA horror stories, streetcar viability opinions, snowpacolyptic memories and — in the face of all else — a maniacal laugh and general sense of schadenfreude at the sight of an open road in your direction yet a stacked commute the other way.
The World of Coke tasting room is the closest we will ever get to Willy Wonka's chocolate factory tour.
Sure, it's King of Pops doing a Golden Ticket nod to the passing of Wonka himself, Gene Wilder. But for all it's sea-salty, street-vendor swag, King of Pops can't touch the biggest factory with the coolest secrets in Atlanta. That championship belt sits (as it has for about a century) around the waist of The Coca-Cola Company. Where else can you get bubbly fizzles of childhood imagination and wonder? Who else has that power over all things young and good, like the purveyors of Coca-Cola. And who in Atlanta has not felt like this when they first turned the corner into the tasting room at World of Coke? Yep, we're a Coke town, through and through.
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