Along the tragic, comedic journey we call MARTA... wait, I mean life! There are many experiences the Atlanta resident will undoubtedly undergo before she or he is a true ATLien. Like a Shakespearean play, but with more shaking asses and less tights, the stages of becoming an Atlantan, for real for real, play out like acts. And they are as follows:
Stage one: The pleasantly surprised stage
Where you’re living: Buckhead. There’s somewhere else?
Where you’re going out: Buckhead Atlanta, Havana Club, Gold Room, The Ivy, Opera
Your mantra: “A whole new world; a new fantastic point of view... ”
Go-to activity: Reading Yelp, Angie’s List, Thumbtack, MyAJC, Atlanta Business Chronicle
This is the initial shock that Atlanta not only doesn’t suck, but is basically a magical land of mystical wonder, freaks, brilliant people, chicken biscuits, and butt-naked booty clubs that are somehow socially acceptable (and encouraged). The cost of living is extremely reasonable and the diversity is damn-near a model for all societies to adopt. There are four actual seasons in the year. People go out and have fun, eat phenomenal food, go to festivals, brunch, see celebrities everywhere, and never stop eating breakfast... It’s somewhere between The Love Boat and The Love Below. There are lots of sexy people who are very spiritual and dress really spectacularly, and they’re all much nicer than everybody else was where you just moved from. Interracial dating and appreciation for cultural differences! Atlanta is love!