Medieval Times:

So after the Egypt & China outing we flashed forward a thousand years or so and supped at the Medieval Times. Let me just say that this was an exquisite dining experience that can only be provided by a themed restaurant. Themed restaurants are always the best way to go and there simply is no other way to dine, think Chucky Cheeze.









































Nothing says Medieval like a strip mall and inside the venue was as much authentically dreamed up surroundings as foam, cheap wrought iron, and spray paint will allow. Faithfully recreated period polyester costumes transported you back in time as did expensive and for sale suits of armor. Pre-show activities included warming your feet by the enormous open-hearth fireside while sipping ale drawn from modern spigots or browsing the bazaar for mock souvenir swords, pennants and banners.




































Medieval Times is the realm of out of work musicians with long hard rock hair, British imports with TRUE accents, and thespians in need of a steady paycheck. Then there are just plain hot guys who are good on horseback and look good in faux chain mail tights.







































We were seated in the Green Knight section as evidenced by our green paper crowns. There are no utensils at Medieval Times just plastic pewter plates and Pepsi. Our show began with the king and his lovely queen presiding over the festivities. This pair made no pretense over their homegrown peach soaked accents. It was so realistic. I think maybe the queens real father bought this franchise just to put his untalented daughter to work. Most entertaining.









































My serving wench was a busy gal but was most gracious in allowing herself to be photographed. During the feast we were treated to a scripted and staged presentation that revolved around each colored dining section’s color-coded knight representative counterpart. It was thrilling absolutely thrilling waving my green pennant and cheering my handsome green knight toward victory.




































The show was amazing filled with combat that was nicely executed and choreographed. I mean using real implements these guys could hurt themselves with one false move. They also had a section where these gorgeous white stallions pranced and jumped through the air. The knights jousted, threw spears at targets, and tossed flowers to the lovely maidens of their choosing in the audience. I shall forever remember my flower and it’s pressed inside of my keepsake program.



















My Mother had the good fortune of being seated next to an overzealous little girl who never shut her mouth for an instant not even to chew her food. She became known as crazy girl and provided my Mother with lots of laughter. If you listen closely to the beginning of the video below you’ll hear my Mother’s infectious laugh.

Egypt & China:

The next day following our visit to the Callaway Lesbian Gardens I was dragged to various exhibits at the Atlanta museums. First stop and a time warp back three or four thousand years was to the Atlanta Civic Center and a visit with the Pharaohs of Egypt.

















My parents are sophisticates and as culturally enriched people they enjoy seeking worldly experiences. It escapes me how they produced such a lazy oafish rube. Lazy being the operative word I elected to take in the sit down 3-D movie first as my television at home is always tuned to the Egypt channel.

















The staffs of Curators for this event were extremely attractive and courteous. I think they saw me coming a mile away and offered me useful information such as, “Do not rest or lean on the exhibits!” and “Please do not stick your used chewing gum on the bust of Hatshepset!” other useful warnings included, “Place the alabaster canopic jar back on the podium and step away from the vitrine!” The most useful advice given when discovered reading aloud very loudly was, “Ssshhh!” and “Would you like an audio device that reads the exhibit information for you?” Finally! Yes please as it was most taxing having to read all of this stuff myself.
























King Tut, King Tut, King Tut! Enough with the King Tut. Sure he was glamorous with riches, gold and jewelry beyond my ordinary everyday comprehension but it’s rumored that his tomb was filled with treasure that was meant for another Pharaoh possibly his father Akhnaten.
























I immediately identified with Akhnaten. He was fey and some have suggested that he might have been of the hermaphrodite persuasion. He worshiped the Sun, as do I, and he liked his art a little more strange, exaggerated but nonetheless realistic. I think he was an alien with his huge elongated face and skull with a protruding belly flanked by spindly arms and legs. He was divine.
























We were famished following the Pharaoh thing so we dined at the elegantly appointed Varsity Grill, which has been an Atlanta institution for more than eighty years. I don’t think we did anything of this century, my parents know me so well. The place is a vintage modern wonder with its terrazzo flooring and sinuous curving nickel-plated deco railings, fixtures and fittings. “What’ll Ya Have? What’ll Ya Have?” The food was pretty good too.
























With barely enough time to digest I was once again whisked back in time to the High Museum to see the Terracotta Army of First Emperor of China 221 B.C. The High is an ultra-modern, stark and sterile place but the patrons were classy and gorgeous. At last attractive people to see after all this is Hotlanta all I had seen thus far was Not Hotlanta.

















Immediately I strapped on my audio device and set about admiring the ceramic physiques that represented the afterlife army. So much time and devotion to ensure a peaceful afterlife it’s all the Egyptians and Chinese think about. Who cares if thousands upon thousands of skilled workers and warriors die in the process as long as the Pharaohs and First Emperor have a happy afterlife then it’s worthwhile.

















Intricate little ceramic tiles were fired then linked together to form a sort of wearable armor that adorns the warriors. It must have been tedious work not unlike the work modern day slaves perform stitching up couture or the bugled-up beadwork on a Joan Collins dress.




















It was meant to be a representation of the actual bronze versions worn in battle. I overheard one smartly turned out lady remark, “Well I don’t see how those clay vests could protect anybody from harm, ceramic is just too breakable.” Hey stupid lady how’d you and your husband get to be so wealthy? It said on the plaque that it was a representation. If you listen to your audio thingy it’ll tell ya so. Oh, she and her husband didn’t have audio thingy’s around their necks. Most unfortunate because that meant she had to read for herself and I expect she has servants at home that fill that task. Always get the audio thingy.






















Next up a dinner and a show at the Medieval Times.

Thanksgiving Through the Ages Part I:

Atlanta has become so internationally chic and the formerly strict southern city that was once only viewed in terms of black and white is now a multi-cultural rainbow of illegal imports. While stopping into the local McDonalds for a restroom break I was immediately enveloped by many numerous foreign tongues. I suppose it has something to do with that airport trucking them in by the airbus loads. My parents had planned a pressing art filled activity agenda with no time to waste and thus began the Atlanta Tour Through the Ages.

First on the list backtracking in time to prehistory and backtracking a hundred miles or so to the famed and wondrous, Callaway Gardens. My childhood friend Lou Ann Pittman would respond when presented with my summer schedule of fabulous vacation destinations like Disney World with her usual, “Well we’re going to Callaway Gardens AND Delta Village…they say Delta Village is bigger and better than ever.” It made her feel superior.


















The fabled gardens of which she spoke were not exactly what I expected. Envisioning lush manicured formal gardens, I was presented with a mountain forest. Could this be the same Callaway Gardens that immediately brings to mind petticoated southern maidens running down grassy hillsides with parasols? You live and learn. The staff of Callaway is entirely populated by lesbians and not just everyday ordinary lesbians but the earthy variety that circulate incoherent directions and spurious misinformation.



















Three items on the list of must see Callaway experiences were the Butterfly Conservatory, the Birds of Prey exhibit, and lastly the holiday themed Fantasy in Lights display to be taken by tram.







































































The butterfly atrium was a humid habitat filled with tropical plants and a variety of enormous butterfly specimens. Capturing them with a camera was a challenge and it was then that I realized why scientist do it, much easier to stab them with a pin and marvel later under magnifying glass.






































































































Birds of Prey was a thrilling experience conducted again by lesbians armed with a flat script and clumsy attempts at humor. The stage is not the environment for these gals however it was for the birds. A showoff ham of a hawk flew out on cue did his little tricks of swooping over the audience eating his reward then returning to his cage with the assurance of a seasoned professional.



















The other birds were pretty good also but Wow was that hawk really good he stole the show. He should be a star not working these sideshow gigs. He needs better representation. He needs better management. The talent surrounding him was not of his caliber.



















We learned that Callaway Gardens had not always been the beautiful environment that we saw around us. It was planted only fifty years ago. Before that the rocky mountaintop was planted with cotton fields. Spending my childhood in Mississippi and summers in Natchez where cotton was king I can’t imagine trying to eek out a living growing such a crop in such harsh conditions.



















While driving through the park we noticed the little wire outlines of teddy bears and geese wrapped with lights that surely was to be our Fantasy in Lights tram driven attraction. It was cold up on Walton Mountain and didn’t relish the thought so we skipped it. Night John Boy.























Sensible suit, sturdy shoes, Doberman Pinscher, more evidence of lesbic activity at Callaway Gardens.