Today marks a very important and memorable milestone in my life: the day I first stepped foot into the city of Atlanta. Important because I was headed to get my first glimpse of the college I would stay at (hopefully) for the next 4 (5? 6? 7??) years. Memorable because, for a small-town girl who had been (I’ll admit it) sheltered for most of her life, taking a flight and staying in a city proved to be a more harrowing experience than I expected.
It all began when I (literally) took my first step into the city. The flight to Hartsfield-Jackson had gone smoothly and I walked out of the jet bridge with an enthusiasm similar to that of Rachel Berry in the 3rd season finale of Glee. After a minute of such romping and smiling, I realized I had no idea how to get from the airport to campus. Misguided me had thought yes, it is totally feasible for me to get from point A to point B using a subway, bus, and walking system I had never experienced.
If there was one thing I could do properly, it was reading. So, following the signs, I eventually wandered into the subway terminal where I yet again used my reading skills to purchase a ticket and ride the escalator up to the platform.
I gave myself a little pep talk on the way up, I mean, this was my first step to independence and so, like a really really big deal. I mean, the worst that could happen was that I could be kidnapped, and even then I had enough social media apps that used location on my phone for the FBI to find me, right? Right? Also, let’s be real, the MARTA isn’t even that bad, and I didn’t even need to go through the mildly confusing part!
As I stepped off the escalator, proud of having made it this far and smiling again, I felt the infamous Hotlanta (a term I have now grown to despise) heat and humidity grab me like a vice. A split second later, I felt another grasp, but this time by a human. A real life stranger human.
This girl dragged me across the width of the station (actually only about 6 feet) and in those few seconds my mind was racing: oh my god she’s going to throw me in front of a train à la House of Cards; oh my god she’s in a gang and she needs to kill me as a sign of honor; oh my god; oh my god; oh my god.
She looked behind our backs, then at me straight in the eye, and whispered, “That creepy guy just took a picture of your butt.” Oh my god.
This was not a situation I had considered (and done extensive planning for). The only place I knew these stories existed were on the internet in the form of femenist rants.
I stammered out a “What?!” as the girl led me away from the guy and into the train that had just pulled up.
She sat beside from me with a small smile on her face as I regained my bearings.
“Thank you so much,” I finally managed to say, “this is my first time in this city, and this was literally the first thing to happen to me.”
“You need to watch out girl, there are crazies out there.” she replied -words that have stuck with me as the wisest thing a stranger could have said.
She got off at the next stop and I rode in quiet mortification, but of course, not for long.
The train pulled into the Oakland City stop, which to those of you who may or may not know, can be the stop for very interesting people. Let’s just say that the “Judgmental Map of Atlanta” denotes the area as ‘ratchet’, ‘guns’, and ‘gentrifying’.
There weren’t that many people on the train to begin with, and not many people leaving or going, which meant there were enough seats (where each set seated 2 people), for everyone to have intact personal space bubbles.
Alas, the one person to come through the doors with a gust of hot wind sat right. beside. me.
Now, even without the interaction that followed, I would have been a little ticked off by the fact that someone sat next to me. (This is still a peeve of mine that I’ve been desperately trying to get over, seeing that I have a very transparent resting face.)
Anyways, this guy sits down right beside of me, looks at me squarely, and says, “Well, how are you doing?”
“I’m good.” I replied, still pondering if this was an example of this “Southern hospitality”.
“Well, darn it. I was hoping you would say ‘fine’ so I could say, ‘yes you are’.”
Mortified (but still slightly flattered), I said thank you and turned away, staying in the exact same stature until I got to my stop and rushed off with only a curt smile.
…to find out I had gotten off at a stop too early.
My adventure onto campus was a long-winded, hot, and confusing one, but I eventually got to that elusive point B.
Throughout the year I have lived in Atlanta, I have never encountered an adventure so blindly and as harrowing as this one. Maybe this adventure hardened me, and I now give off the aura of a seasoned MARTA rider. Maybe that signature deer-in-headlights look has transformed into a resting bitch face that no one can even approach anymore.
All I know is that, if there was ever a moment that I could define as a step into adulthood, it would be that day a little overenthusiastic (and a quite naive) me stepped into my future.
SPARKSPIRATION 