Hotlanta? More like FAClanta

What is FAClanta (pronounced “fak-lanta”)? FAC comes from the ancient greek literature of klucksimusmaximus and is a frequently used family acronym that has been passed down through the ages. It means Freezing Ass Cold and yes that is exactly how the Romans described their bitter winters. FAC is what Atlanta was when I traded 80 degrees worth of California for Snow during the first week of December. Since that is the only time I have been (and possibly the only time I will ever be) in Atlanta I have decided not to conform with the almost ritualistic pleasure people seem to get from calling the city “Hotlanta”. In fact, next time I hear someone say “Hotlanta” I’m going to pelt them in the face with a snowball (in the absence of a snowball, which is likely in LA, my open palm will suffice).

Now I thought my best story from Atlanta was going to be seeing Paris Hilton and the Wu Tang Clan. I also thought this story was going to be the best until I was likened to a legal version of Justin Bieber by gay guys at a Thrashers hockey game. Still, seeing as how the point of this blog is regaling all of you with my adventures, I feel that you must hear this one.

My trip to Atlanta would have been much less interesting had I not known anyone there, but out of the luckiness of luck that randomly appears in life here and there I ended up with two friends, one from high school (hey Patriots!) and one from work, that both took the time to show us a part of the town.

My buddy Doug from highschool took me to a place that I will never forget (though I can’t remember the name) because they served Tachos. Take a moment to guess what that is. Close! Tachos are Tater-tot nachos and yes they taste as amazing as they sound. Plus I love the name and a good foodie knows the name is half the battle. One example of the power of a food’s name is the genius of naming the infamous “Rocky Mountain Oysters”. I can’t imagine how many people have been tricked into eating them because of the name. The amount of people I’ve tricked remains at 4.

Doug is a big believer of Tachos and cars so it makes sense that he ended up working with Porsche. What doesn’t make sense in an awesomely cool way is how they decided to let him build, customize and drive his own Porche every 6 months! Doug controls the distribution of Porsche’s across America so the company decided that they need to keep up their image through Doug, who was more than happy to oblige. Therefore, I was able to ride around the empty streets of Atlanta in the newest Porsche 911 screeching around corners and dodging wide-eyed pedestrians along the way. Definitely better than the free Acura service that the W hotel provides.

Unfortunately I chose a much worse night to hang out with my other buddy Tyler. It had been raining all week in FAClanta and for some reason the city chose that day to drop down to 0 when the sun went down. For those of you that aren’t into science let me explain it to you this way. Know how you get ice cubes by putting water in a freezing environment aka a “freezer”? Pretend in the previously described scenario that the streets are your ice cube tray. The roads were a disaster! Twice we fishtailed past rows of smashed cars and others that decided the ditch was a better option than the road. Had it not been for the fact that I had promised a certain friend from my trip to New York that I’d eat at Fado’s (the “coolest Irish bar in Atlanta” as she put it) we would have turned around, but my will to follow-through and Tyler’s epic driving skills eventually got us where we needed to be. This is where my story STARTS (yea just when you thought you were getting close to the end!).

While Tyler, Bryan, Jon and I stuffed ourselves with beer, trivia and bangers and mash, the city of FAClanta decided to shut down without sending us a memo. Jon had wanted to visit a friend who went to Emory and since we had been hanging with some of mine I knew I couldn’t say no. After Fado’s we walked outside and hopped in the last operating cab in FAClanta (though we didn’t know it at the time) and headed towards the party. Now everyone that’s taken a cab before knows that there can be some pretty random drivers. This one was the best of the best. His accent and general lack of knowledge on how to construct a sentence made his otherwise bland stories extremely entertaining. The best of which happened when he tried to describe a drunk girl’s butt sticking out of her dress by saying, and I quote you not, “she passed out and her ass was wide open!” I thought I died of laughter, and may well have if the bangers and mash didn’t remind me it was a bad idea to eat tons of food, drink lots of beer and then laugh like it’s going out of style. To keep from vomiting I started playing the game “count the strip –clubs” with Jon. Do you know how many strip clubs there are on the way from Fado’s to Emory? The answer is too many, especially of that quality. Strip clubs and open asses aside, we made it to Jon’s friend’s house, which in hindsight I hesitate to call a house since it was really a non-insolated log cabin with a huge “living” room sparsely populated with an L-shaped couch, a table, and a small ping-pong table. Still we had a fun time drinking Korean beer, eating Korean food, and entertaining one of the drunkest girls of all time who called each of us by 10 different names throughout the night with surprising but inaccurate confidence.

Around 10 pm we decided to call a cab to make sure we could get a decent night’s sleep for our 8am training the next day. It was only then that we realized that the cabs had stopped running. This wouldn’t have been too big a problem alone but we quickly found out that it wasn’t just the cabs that stopped running, it was EVERYTHING. The storm had essentially splattered an icy money shot to the face of the entire city of FAClanta making it impossible for ANYONE to go ANYWHERE. We thought about walking but 8 miles of below-freezing weather was not an appealing choice to anyone. Unfortunately our alternative wasn’t much better. We were now stuck wearing our business clothes in a log cabin with a bunch of drunk college students, no heat, no extra blankets and no extra pillows. We all looked at each other and had a FML moment as we realized what had to be done.

I quickly snagged the small remaining parcel of couch not inhabited by a passed out collegiate and curled into the fetal position to keep warm. Bryan and Jon we not so lucky and spent the night on beds made out of two chairs turned towards each other. I am not sure how much I slept that night but I know that I lost a button off my jacket from the constant twisting and turning in an effort to find a position that would keep me warm. Eventually an alarm went off at 6 am and we had to practically force someone into a car to drive us to the nearest MARTA (metro) station. The drive felt like a movie. We listened to a local new station beg everyone to stay off the roads as we passed abandoned cars sitting isolated on the side of the street and in ditches. No one spoke a word and there was not a single pedestrian in sight. Luckily we made it to the MARTA stop without a problem and were able to take the train to within two blocks of our hotel. After a freezing two-block-walk we made it back and I barely sneaked a glanced at the bedside alarm clock before passing out. It read 6:45. Shit. It all felt like a bad dream when I woke up and hour later and I probably would have chalked it up to that if I hadn’t have looked in the mirror and realized I was still wearing the same clothes. Needless to say, I drank 5 cups of coffee that day.

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Comments
11 Responses to “Hotlanta? More like FAClanta”
  1. tsonoda148 says:

    Hey my young friend, I’ll bet you don’t know where I grew up, do you???? Yep, HOTLanta. Oh wait, I mean FAClanta. Whatever. Sorry you went when it was freezing. Springs and Falls there are beautiful. Winter is….well, you know winter there, and summer is to effing hot (this coming from someone who lives in Vegas).
    Anyhow, sounds like you had some good eats at least.

    Fun post. It’s about freaking time. LOL

    Terri

    • kluckmeister says:

      Man somehow I’m just traveling through your life! I’ll have to check it out in the summer and then maybe I’ll repeal my word-ban.

      I know it was too long. That’s what 92 hours of work in a week will do to you. Never again!

  2. I live down here in the Filthy Dirty (as the locals like to call the ATL). I have been stuck inside for about 4 days and things are bleak. We considered eating my 3 year old son last night.

    Glad you enjoyed your visit! I’m a bit disappointed that you don’t have any Claremont Lounge references in here. Every good ATL visit must have at least one trip to the Claremont. I once saw a “dancer” there drop her teeth out of her mouth during the middle of her act.

  3. Moe says:

    There’s a Fado in Chicago-great pub!!! As for the FAC issue, deal with it. i live above the FAC line and am dealing as we speak:~)

    C U soon- Bode is a monster on skis!

  4. Bronan! says:

    Dude, you come up with some pretty good stories. You should put FAC on Urban Dictionary. Those tater tot nachos look like a recipe for plumbing punishment.

  5. Melanie T says:

    ATL? Tell the place of that tatcho place!!! I’m planning a trip out there in May.

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  1. […] a day and not being rewarded for it, my two work buddies Tyler (who you might remember from my “getting trapped in a log cabin in Atlanta” story) and Terry (a delightful Texan with arm muscles the size of my calves and a beer palate that […]



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