Lost in Atlanta 2008

Nothing is simple anymore. Shoulder problems make driving to Atlanta impossible, so going to give a deposition at Peachtree Center requires relying on the kindness, not of strangers, but of old friends, all connected to my life through the Stein Club.

John Rupert brought me as far as the Mall of Georgia, driving like we were at LeMans, making me wonder if turning a steering wheel would have hurt my shoulders any more than the clenching of my muscles through 45 miles of road rage. However, safely dropped off at the Mall of Georgia, Rick Smith’s girlfriend Mary Maxwell met me for lunch and took me to Peachtree Center for a meeting with my lawyer. An hour later, when I came out of his building onto the Peachtree Center mall, my first thought was to just jump on a No. 10 bus and head down to 8th Street, go to the Stein Club and fill everybody in on my case. There for a moment, that world still existed. Then I was back in the present, and there was such a feeling of loss.

Sometimes when John Rupert and I reminisce about the Stein Club, people will say, "The reason that time seems so great is because you were young. We all feel that way." And, admittedly, there is truth to that: no aches and pains, lots of energy, a huge sex drive, and being attractive enough to do something about it. But Rick Smith and I were talking Tuesday night and he agreed that there was more to it than that. Anytime day or night that the club was open, you could find conversations that were fast-paced and hilarious or discussions that were deep and informed or gossip that was simply outrageous. Everybody was at their best and tried a little harder than they did at home or at the Waffle House (a/k/a Awful House).

The only place the Stein Club exists today is in our memories, and in this blog I intend to share some of mine. My hope is that in the comments sections some of my old friends, and perhaps some of the Stein Clubbers who came later, will share their stories, too, or just their thoughts.