No need to rise too early. Not much to do this morning other than pack. And watch some shit TV.
My plan is simple: check out at noon, wander down street to pub, drink beer. It is pretty much my plan for every day. Eat some food. That would be a good idea, too.
Having flogged a reasonable number of books, my luggage is lighter. Most of the remaining books I load into my check-in bag. Leaving the bits I’m going to be carrying much lighter. Hooray.
I check out and leave my bags at the hotel. Then make the sort walk to Meehan’s. As you might have guessed from the name, it’s an Irish pub. But I know they have a reasonable beer selection. I was here a couple of years ago. I can’t be arsed to trek any further.
Wedging my belly betwixt bar stool and bar counter, I order a beer.
Terrapin Hopsecutioner IPA, 7.3% ABV
Pale and fairly clear. Pretty grapefruity, but not that bitter, really. A pleasant enough lunchtime beer.
Not feeling quite so knacked today. Though I’m still a bit yawny. It’s been an odd trip. Just five nights and a single event. That that did go really well.
Oh no, there’s an advert for Golden Corral on the TV. What bad memories that recalls. Makes me literally want to vomit.
The barman just gave me a taster of Orpheus Transmigration of Souls, a Double IPA of 10%. Hides the booze very well.
They keep showing the baseball brawl from yesterday. Odd that two big strong athletes should fight like 8-year-old wimps.
I’m wondering what to eat. I’m tempted by fish and chips or shepherd’s pie. But both are more than I really want to eat. I spot a bloke along the bar tucking into tacos. Hadn’t noticed then on the menu. Looks perfect. I order them.
They’re pretty damn good. And not too heavy. My stomach is always like Andrew’s when I’m in the US.
For some reason there are Liverpool scarves behind the bar. Not from Liverpool itself, but all sorts of US Liverpool supporters’ clubs. Maybe it’s the Irish/catholic connection.
Time for another beer.
Orpheus Transmigration of Souls, 10% ABV
An Atlanta beer, evidently. Bit cloudier, this one. More of an Izal taste here – is that Citra? Or is in Simcoe? One of those weird modern hops. OK, I guess. Again, not that bitter. What’s happening to US IPA? Has it turned into a sort of fruit punch?
It’s not that busy. The staff chatting and joking with each other. Pretty friendly. I suppose it is a wet Tuesday lunchtime. Not exactly peak pub time.
Odd thing about my talk yesterday was that I got almost as many questions about music as beer.
It’s so strange when I’m “on stage”. I feel really confident, have all these jokes come into my head, can cope with anything that goes wrong, never run out of words to say. Almost like I’m a different person. Getting a whole room to laugh out loud is quite a rush I can understand why people get addicted to performing.
I’m such a lucky bastard. I get to travel all over. Meet lots of cool people. And even get some of it paid for. If only I were 20 years younger. I reckon I’ve got another ten years more of this. Then the travelling will start getting too hard. Though Mum made it to Australia when she was 74.
Just saw the Tetley sign again on the way to the bogs. God, that brings up mixed emotions.
Three pints of DIPA. That should do me for today. No expensive airport whisky necessary.
Oh no, Golden Corral on the TV again. Excuse me while I go for a puke in the bog.
Bill paid, back picked up and taxi hailed, I’m on my way to the airport through a dark and rainy Atlanta. A city I’ve still seen bugger all of, despite a couple of visits.
My bag is soon checked in and I’m breezing through security. I love having TSA pre. It save so much bother. And undressing.
I always try to eat some decent food before a transatlantic flight. Great, there’s a food court. Usually that means good value. I go to a Chinesey place and order Peking beef (no rice) and two spring rolls. It’s not really spicy, but pretty tasty. So much so, that I fetch another. It’s only $3 something a pop. Bargain.
I’ve still got some time before boarding. Why not drop by that TGI Fridays over there? I squeeze into a barstool. And order a Sweetwater 420 Extra Pale Ale. And a double bourbon.
I watch a couple of crap films, then get my head down. I manage to get a couple of hours of reasonable sleep. Not that much worse than most nights while I was away.
My bag is the third off. Great. Time to get a taxi.
Meehan's Public House Downtown
200 Peachtree Street,
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