Poker Zombie
Royal Flush
Most post-meetup reports are very long, or they are too short to do justice. Not a surprise, because there is soooo much fun in these very long weekends (mine started on Tuesday). Not being one to short-change a written story, my trip report would wear out the scroll bar on your phone.
So I decided to make my trip report it's own thread. In an effort to change it up, instead of the standardized chronological report, I will break mine up into installments. Each chapter focusing on a different aspect of the meetup. Today's installment:
Out and About in Atlanta
Meetups are more than cards in a basement. It's a vacation in another city, and that means seeing and doing things outside of the basement. We drove down on Tuesday and got a room at the Hotel Clermont.
The Hotel is a 4-star hotel in what used to be a run-down location. It has been cleaned up and was rather nice, but it didn't feel quite up to 4-star standards. The valets were sloppily dressed. Not a big deal. I expect valets to look unkempt as they run from the lot back to their post, and from their post back to the lot to retrieve a car. But I expect this at 3-star locations. 4 and 5 star places should hire enough valets to staff both locations and to allow walking time, so this was falling just a bit short.
The valet asks "do you need a luggage cart", to which I replied in the affirmative. I've only got a small carry-on, and @Mrs Poker Zombie has a slightly larger bag, but we also have a wooden box... a cherry presentation box containing 1000 CPC chips.
The porter asks "Is that it?" as I personally lift the case out of the trunk and put it on the cart. He had that air of "Why did you pull me away from my TV show if this was all you needed" vibe going on. Again, not very 4-star. So when we got to the room, I let him try to lift the case.
He failed.
You know how those luggage carts have a rubber bumper around the base? I always thought that was for bumping into walls. Apparently it's a safety measure in case a relatively small box contains a "heavy for it's size" number of chips, and the box doesn't lift by one handle so the cart slams into the shin of the bellhop.
"Yeah, that's heavy"
"Yup".
A couple doors down from the Hotel is a place that Alton Brown once called "The best fried chicken in America", Hop's Chicken.
Hop's is located in the Ponce City Market, in a building that once housed a Sears Roebuck department store and regional offices, back in the 1920s. That means at one time you could get anything here. I'm just here for the chicken. I look over the menu, and then I decide.
"1/2 chicken, and a Stella" - because I need my second beer. Yes, second. The Hotel gave us a beer at check-in, but I'll circle back to that...
"We don't have any more 1/2 chickens"
This meme comes to mind...
...but if I can't get 1/2 a chicken, then 2 chickens are right out.
"How about a breast and a leg?"
"Sorry, we only have legs and thighs"
"Ok, a leg and a thigh."
She pauses, then says "We only have thighs". She didn't even look. She knew she was bluffing, and apparently I called her. I'm on track for a good weekend.
"OK, two thighs." I guess I got my two chickens afterall.
Despite the comedy of errors, the bird was the best I've ever had, hands down. Crispy, but a really thin coating of batter. It has changed my focus on how to make fried chicken. Time to fire up the test kitchen, because I need to make this.
At the Hotel Clermont, as we checked in the desk clerk told us a bit about the history of the hotel. When he mentioned the Clermont Lounge, I replied "That's why we're here. to visit the lounge tonight".
"Really? Here..." he turned and opened a big safe in the room, that turned out to be a refrigerator. "Guests going can have two PBRs". Granted, it's Pabst, a beer that you can order by name at the same time you are throwing up, but free beer is free beer.
The lounge is oddly... not terrible. The rail was mostly duct-tape, but when the dancers were not on stage, this could have been any trendy nightclub where hipsters drank PBR, Rolling Rock, or whatever shit-beer was the "ironic" beer that was trending.
The dancers were friendly, but they looked like they were selected at random from the local DMV. Some good looking, some not so much, but they all were owning it, and that made it feel better than the spaced-out, regretful look typically found on a strippers face. People wadded up dollar bills into little balls and tried taking jump shots at the G-string basket. Since I was leading the NCAA bracket challenge I took a shot, but missed. If this is another premonition for the weekend, it doesn't look good for the Spartans.
The whole place was odd for a strip club. Decent lighting, music at a volume that allowed conversations, not really clean, but not really dirty. The oddest part though was that female patrons outnumbered the male patrons 2.5-1.
Definite "no cameras policy", so no feature pic.
The morning of the meetup We headed to Top Golf.
Top Golf locations have sprung up all over lately, so I thought I'd give it a try. Mind you, I've never golfed (unless putt-putt counts), so this was my chance to do it without tearing up a course with divots, slowing down real golfers, and losing golf balls.
Or so I thought.
The lady at the counter asks if I am a lefty. I don't know, I tell her. I've never golfed. My dad was left-handed, so I learned to putt left-handed, but virtually everything else, I do right. So I get a set of left-handed clubs, and there are right handed clubs in the bay.
Then I take some shots. Whap! I swing and I stand there looking for the ball. I must have crushed it. I turn to Mrs Zombie and ask "did you see where it went?"
"Yes, it's right at your feet."
I tee back up, and the next 2 shots go the same way. The club fits right under the ball and above the mat. 3 strokes and I haven't left the green.
Drivers are too short. I need something with a big open face. I grab a pitching wedge.
Whack!-Whack!
Somehow, I hit the ball, and as it's rising up into the air, the club makes contact on my follow-through. The ball is off like a rocket behind me. It careens off the scoring monitor and wizzes around the bay. I'm just happy it didn't knock over my martini.
I graciously lose $10 in a bet with Mrs Zombie, who fared much better.
Zombie ratings:
Hotel Clairmont: 3 Brains. Not great but for the price I'd like the staff to be better. The view from the rooftop bar however, was amazing.
Clermont Lounge: 3 Brains. It was an experience, and I don't regret it, but sexy it was not.
Hops chicken: 4 Brains. It very well could have been 5, but running out of chicken at a chicken place belongs in the WTF thread, not a trip report.
Stay tuned for Chapter 2: Food
So I decided to make my trip report it's own thread. In an effort to change it up, instead of the standardized chronological report, I will break mine up into installments. Each chapter focusing on a different aspect of the meetup. Today's installment:
Out and About in Atlanta
Meetups are more than cards in a basement. It's a vacation in another city, and that means seeing and doing things outside of the basement. We drove down on Tuesday and got a room at the Hotel Clermont.
The Hotel is a 4-star hotel in what used to be a run-down location. It has been cleaned up and was rather nice, but it didn't feel quite up to 4-star standards. The valets were sloppily dressed. Not a big deal. I expect valets to look unkempt as they run from the lot back to their post, and from their post back to the lot to retrieve a car. But I expect this at 3-star locations. 4 and 5 star places should hire enough valets to staff both locations and to allow walking time, so this was falling just a bit short.
The valet asks "do you need a luggage cart", to which I replied in the affirmative. I've only got a small carry-on, and @Mrs Poker Zombie has a slightly larger bag, but we also have a wooden box... a cherry presentation box containing 1000 CPC chips.
The porter asks "Is that it?" as I personally lift the case out of the trunk and put it on the cart. He had that air of "Why did you pull me away from my TV show if this was all you needed" vibe going on. Again, not very 4-star. So when we got to the room, I let him try to lift the case.
He failed.
You know how those luggage carts have a rubber bumper around the base? I always thought that was for bumping into walls. Apparently it's a safety measure in case a relatively small box contains a "heavy for it's size" number of chips, and the box doesn't lift by one handle so the cart slams into the shin of the bellhop.
"Yeah, that's heavy"
"Yup".
A couple doors down from the Hotel is a place that Alton Brown once called "The best fried chicken in America", Hop's Chicken.
Hop's is located in the Ponce City Market, in a building that once housed a Sears Roebuck department store and regional offices, back in the 1920s. That means at one time you could get anything here. I'm just here for the chicken. I look over the menu, and then I decide.
"1/2 chicken, and a Stella" - because I need my second beer. Yes, second. The Hotel gave us a beer at check-in, but I'll circle back to that...
"We don't have any more 1/2 chickens"
This meme comes to mind...
...but if I can't get 1/2 a chicken, then 2 chickens are right out.
"How about a breast and a leg?"
"Sorry, we only have legs and thighs"
"Ok, a leg and a thigh."
She pauses, then says "We only have thighs". She didn't even look. She knew she was bluffing, and apparently I called her. I'm on track for a good weekend.
"OK, two thighs." I guess I got my two chickens afterall.
Despite the comedy of errors, the bird was the best I've ever had, hands down. Crispy, but a really thin coating of batter. It has changed my focus on how to make fried chicken. Time to fire up the test kitchen, because I need to make this.
At the Hotel Clermont, as we checked in the desk clerk told us a bit about the history of the hotel. When he mentioned the Clermont Lounge, I replied "That's why we're here. to visit the lounge tonight".
"Really? Here..." he turned and opened a big safe in the room, that turned out to be a refrigerator. "Guests going can have two PBRs". Granted, it's Pabst, a beer that you can order by name at the same time you are throwing up, but free beer is free beer.
The lounge is oddly... not terrible. The rail was mostly duct-tape, but when the dancers were not on stage, this could have been any trendy nightclub where hipsters drank PBR, Rolling Rock, or whatever shit-beer was the "ironic" beer that was trending.
The dancers were friendly, but they looked like they were selected at random from the local DMV. Some good looking, some not so much, but they all were owning it, and that made it feel better than the spaced-out, regretful look typically found on a strippers face. People wadded up dollar bills into little balls and tried taking jump shots at the G-string basket. Since I was leading the NCAA bracket challenge I took a shot, but missed. If this is another premonition for the weekend, it doesn't look good for the Spartans.
The whole place was odd for a strip club. Decent lighting, music at a volume that allowed conversations, not really clean, but not really dirty. The oddest part though was that female patrons outnumbered the male patrons 2.5-1.
Definite "no cameras policy", so no feature pic.
The morning of the meetup We headed to Top Golf.
Top Golf locations have sprung up all over lately, so I thought I'd give it a try. Mind you, I've never golfed (unless putt-putt counts), so this was my chance to do it without tearing up a course with divots, slowing down real golfers, and losing golf balls.
Or so I thought.
The lady at the counter asks if I am a lefty. I don't know, I tell her. I've never golfed. My dad was left-handed, so I learned to putt left-handed, but virtually everything else, I do right. So I get a set of left-handed clubs, and there are right handed clubs in the bay.
Then I take some shots. Whap! I swing and I stand there looking for the ball. I must have crushed it. I turn to Mrs Zombie and ask "did you see where it went?"
"Yes, it's right at your feet."
I tee back up, and the next 2 shots go the same way. The club fits right under the ball and above the mat. 3 strokes and I haven't left the green.
Drivers are too short. I need something with a big open face. I grab a pitching wedge.
Whack!-Whack!
Somehow, I hit the ball, and as it's rising up into the air, the club makes contact on my follow-through. The ball is off like a rocket behind me. It careens off the scoring monitor and wizzes around the bay. I'm just happy it didn't knock over my martini.
I graciously lose $10 in a bet with Mrs Zombie, who fared much better.
Zombie ratings:
Hotel Clairmont: 3 Brains. Not great but for the price I'd like the staff to be better. The view from the rooftop bar however, was amazing.
Clermont Lounge: 3 Brains. It was an experience, and I don't regret it, but sexy it was not.
Hops chicken: 4 Brains. It very well could have been 5, but running out of chicken at a chicken place belongs in the WTF thread, not a trip report.
Stay tuned for Chapter 2: Food
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. The good omens are playing out for me.
