11/7/15,
“Georgia on My Mind”
Atlanta,
Georgia
Atlanta
means a lot of things to a lot of different people, but to me, more than
anything else, it means the Host of the Games of the XVI Olympiad in 1996. That was when I started to become as obsessed
with the Olympics as I am now. If the
Olympics are a religion to me, then I am now sitting in its cathedral. It has been an interesting day so far, and I
got in more touristy stuff than I had planned, but not as much as I had
hoped.
After I woke up, I head down to
breakfast, a southern buffet that left much to be desired, bacon wasn’t crispy
enough, no biscuits and gravy, but the grits and eggs were good enough. I was left fed. I then headed down for the first talk. It was about the spirit of Atlas Shrugged in
Silicon Valley. One quote really stuck
with me: “Create more value than you capture.”
Think about Google. They have
created an immensely valuable product that they give away to everyone in the
world. It is impossible to measure the
value that Google has provided to the world, but they only capture a tiny
percentage of that value, and they are still one of the most successful
companies in the world. That is the
spirit of Silicon Valley, and I find it very much accordance with the themes of
Atlas Shrugged.
Dagny Taggart wanted to
create the best railroad she could. Her
goal was not to capture every last dollar she could from selling rail services. Howard Roark wanted to create the best
buildings he could, not make as much money selling architectural services as
possible. Imagine if Hank Rearden was
only driven by the desire to profit. No,
he was driven by the desire to achieve greatness. That is why he is entitled to every penny
that comes from the sale of Rearden metal, a metal that makes the world an
immensely better place. The luminaries
in Silicon Valley are no different.
Other points that were raised during the morning talks were mainstays of
Objectivism. Only engage in win-win
relationships, as all win-lose relationships eventually become lose-lose. Self-interest means long-term self-interest,
not short-term. There was one other
point about Silicon Valley: it is better to fail at trying something new than
to succeed at copying someone else. That
is the mindset of Silicon Valley, and I believe my readers will agree it is
found in Atlas Shrugged.
After the
talks, I went out for a cigar, a Davidoff Special R, and I headed to Georgia
Tech, which was a block or so away. I
wanted to go to the football stadium, of course. I walked by the frat houses, and I soon found
the stadium. Well, as I got there, some
rambling wrecks were walking out. I
guess they well were each a heck of an engineer. I took my ceremonial picture at the stadium
and headed back to the hotel, stopping at the bookstore along the way and
picking up some heartburn medicine.
I
then went to lunch, traditional southern fare of meatloaf, mashed potatoes,
iced tea, and bread with butter. After
lunch, I went back up to the room, intending to have a five-minute rest. That became a two-hour nap, which cost me the
time I wanted to spend at the CNN Tower.
I got ready and headed to the MARTA station, taking it to Five Points,
where I found the famous Atlanta Underground.
I walked around for about a minute before making my way to the State
Capitol. Interestingly Atlanta did not
become the capital of Georgia until 1868, after the Civil War. Savanna was the capital during the
Revolutionary War, until it fell to the British. I lit up a Churchill and took a few more
pictures.
I then continued to the famous, historic courthouse, which now
houses the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals. After I took my ceremonial pictures there, I
continued walking towards my ultimate destination. The thing about Atlanta is that it has decent
neighborhoods and bad neighborhoods, and it is hard to tell which is
which. I saw people handing off stolen
or fake goods, and many people asked me for spare change, not homeless
people.
When I saw the Rings at the
entrance to the Centennial Olympic Park.
I knew I was home. I had not been
here in three years, but I remembered it.
Then I saw the flags. They went
clockwise. The five-ring flag, then the
US flag, then Spain, then South Korea, etc.
I knew what they represented.
“1996 Atlanta, 1992 Barcelona, 1988 Seoul,…” I could not contain the tears as I
effortlessly rattled off each Summer Games, fully crying from joy by the time I
got to “1904 St. Louis, 1900 Paris, 1896 Athens.” I was home.
I took a few ceremonial pictures, ditched the cigar, and took a few more
pictures. I then sat down on the raised
seating, where I lit up my Ardor and proceeded to write this entry, which I
will now close so that I can head back to the hotel for the cocktail party.
Well, it
certainly has been a very interesting and adventurous seven hours since I
closed at Centennial Olympic Park. I
should have been back at the hotel by 6:30 PM.
If I walked I could have gotten there around 6:40 PM. I decided to take MARTA. Well, MARTA sucks. It’s great for getting to and from the
airport, but, for shorter distances, it’s only marginally better than walking,
if at all. It should have been 10
minutes for the next train. The countdown
marker said 17 minutes. I think it ws 25
minutes in the end. Reader (well, New
York readers), imagine having to wait 25 minutes for a subway train on a
Saturday at 6 PM. It’s probably more
like 5 minutes. When I finally got to my
destination, at 6:50 PM, I got off on the wrong end and started walking the
opposite direction of the hotel.
I
sorted it all out, but it was after 7 PM when I got to the hotel, when I
thought the cocktail reception to be over.
I then learned two things. The
reception ran until 7:30 PM, but it was only for speakers, not for the whole
conference. I should have just stayed
downtown and got dinner there. Instead,
I went up to the room and looked up the best choices for southern food by the
hotel, while I charged up my phone. I
found one, and it was pretty famous, Mary Mac’s Tea Room. It was a 20-minute walk from the hotel, but I
just had no energy, so I took a cab.
When I got there, I was pleasantly surprised. Needless to say, I ate too much. That’s the thing about soul food. The portions are big, and the food is
filling. This was my big night out, so I
was determined to do it right. I ordered
a mint julep to drink, and they brought out the bread: regular bread, corn
muffins, and a cinnamon roll. Then came
the pot likker. After that, my main
course, and I was full before they brought it out, fried chicken with fried
okra and mac and cheese. I also got a
glass of buttermilk to go with it. For
dessert, I had Georgia peach cobbler with cinnamon ice cream and coffee. Reader, could you imagine a more traditional
Georgian meal? I certainly can’t.
I was too pooped to pop at this point, but I
still had the party to go to. I really
just wanted to skip it. I wanted to go
back to the hotel, have a cigar, relax, and then watch Donald Trump on SNL at
11:30 PM. It was a little after 9 PM at
this point. I figured I’d get to the
party at 9:30 PM, have my two drinks, and then leave at 11 PM. If I could find a chance to have a cigar at
some point, great. Well, that was
exactly what I did. I got to the party,
and everyone else had already arrived. I
went to check in, but they said they didn’t have any drink tickets. Um, how did they run out of drink
tickets?
My ticket price explicitly said
it came with two drinks. I didn’t even
want the drinks. It was just the
principle of the thing. They said I
could just leave my credit card at the bar, order my drink(s), get the tickets
later, and the bar would void the charge for the drinks. Fine, whatever. I saw they had Knob Creek bourbon. No, that wasn’t included. Evan Williams was. Fine, whatever. I asked for a double for my two drinks. I then went outside where I found a group of
smokers, including two people smoking cigars.
Perfect, that would be my spot. The
thing about me and parties is, I hate being there if I don’t know anyone, but,
if I have a group I can latch onto, I’m fine.
I call it my “anchor.” If I have
an anchor, I don’t feel uncomfortable.
One of the cigar smokers instantly recognized my cigar as a Liga Privada
No. 9. I didn’t even know that was what
I was smoking. We started talking as I
drank (sipped) without enjoying my bourbon.
Then a girl came to join us. She
was exactly my type: smart, beautiful, tall, philosophical. We connected and started talking. Talking to her I felt something I felt for, I
believe, only the second time since June.
No, I’m not talking about a physical feeling. I’m talking about forming an emotional bond
with someone, the feeling of being in a conversation with someone and never
wanting it to end, not because you are enjoying the conversation you are having
with her, but because you are enjoying so much conversing with her. How could a pretty face ever supplant
that? One small problem: she lives in
Santa Fe, so it is doubtful I will ever see her again after tomorrow. We both wanted to leave the party early so
that we could get back to the hotel for SNL, and we decided to share a cab back
to the hotel.
Alright, I am very tired,
so I’m half tempted to write, “Yada, yada, yada, and I proceeded to write this
entry,” but that would be too much editing.
I need to properly close out this entry.
I went back to finish my cigar, but I knew that I still needed to
resolve the issue with the credit card and the drink tickets, but the organizer
from the event was nowhere to be found.
The bartender told me they didn’t buy enough drink tickets, so I was
SOL. Not bloody likely. I told them that I paid for the ticket, so I’m
not going to pay again for the drinks. I
flat-out told them I wouldn’t sign the slip, and they said they had to run the
card anyway. I said I’d dispute the
charge on my credit card. The bartender
told me that I would need to take it up with the event organizer. Again, the money was nominal. It was the principle of the thing, and my new
friend was waiting for me. I told them
to just give my card back, and I’d sort it out later.
I finished my drink, and we headed up to the
street. She was struggling to walk in
her high heels and shivering in her short sleeves. Reader, I think you know me well enough to
know that I am always a perfect gentlemen.
Well, at least with girls outside my family and the office. If I had a jacket, I would have offered it to
her. I did not. I was just wearing my shirt and suit pants. We got to the street, and I tried to recall
the proper protocol. I knew I was
supposed to open the door for her, but it seemed like she would not want to
slide to the opposite side. Oh, right, I
was supposed to open the door on the curbside, let her into that seat, and then
I would walk around and enter the car from the opposite side. That was the proper protocol, and she
appreciated the gesture.
We talked about
the conference on our way back to the hotel, arriving with 7 minutes to
spare. We talked about the idea of “stop
sign morality” raised this morning, that morality is too often about what we
shouldn’t do, rather than what we should do.
We also talked about what I raised in my entry last night, how Kant’s
view of morality stands in direct contrast to the Objectivist view of the
morality of value creation. SNL did not
disappoint, and Donald was willing to make fun of himself in good taste. There were also some non-political sketches that
were hilarious. After SNL, I proceeded
to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can get to sleep. I guess I will not be making it to the Waffle
House tonight, instead saving it for breakfast.
No comments:
Post a Comment