In the ATL?  Try the Paschal’s outpost in the B concourse

Great fried chicken, it rivals Nip’s in Dublin, Georgia, and the sides (black eyed peas and collard greens) are good.  They don’t serve backs (a prized piece which the standard chicken disassembly model has attached mostly to what we know as the thighs) but no one else does either so don’t hold it against them. 

     I used to detest the Atlanta airport (ATL if clarification must be made for you Charlie  Brown, PDK people) for its traffic, parking, uber-zealous security (even before 9/11) and the all around disquieting experience.  It seemed like everything about a trip from the Atlanta airport was carefully designed to irritate.  Two things occur to me now, first that sensation was partly cognitive dissonance.  As someone who lived for decades within 100 miles of that airport and took some very pleasant trips from there in the mid-1970s, the awfulness of the modern ATL experience was difficult to reconcile with the geographically adjacent world in which I lived.  The hustle and rudeness of the experience of flying out of ATL was the driven by the fact it really isn’t of the place it is located in, it is actually the presence of the global commons in a little blister in the piney-woods south side of Atlanta.  Busy people in a hurry to get somewhere, not the default setting of the North and Middle Georgians I lived among, my people, the tribe I was of.  The second thing, the joy of jet travel in 1975 is dead, and not likely to return for most of us, the 1% excluded.  Between deregulation and the coarsening of society, there won’t be airplanes full of well dressed, polite people who can hold their liquor ever again.  So I can explain my feelings to myself, and appreciate the speed, convenience, and efficiency of the connecting flight through ATL, (and the Paschal’s chicken) but I still don’t want to start or end a flight in Atlanta.


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