Welcome to Atlanta, Where the Players Play--or--Most White People in Zone 3 Since 1953

Upon learning of  my exact arrival date, Rooster set out to throw an epic "Welcome to Atlanta" party at the soon-to-be-Christened "Woodster" residence in beautiful Zone 3. 

It was to be the party of the century (or at least the week of October 1st), complete with friends, music, ribs, and all the booze one can safely consume.  He called every friend dear to his heart and begged them to let go of their misgivings about driving south of I-20.  For one night, venture out of the warm, safe confines of Lindbergh and Sandy Springs, and do it up ghetto stylie.  To his delight, everyone agreed to brave the Desoto Avenue antics, and the party plans were set.

Atlanta residents would be represented, but how could I bring Tacoma to dirty?  Ask friends to fly across these great states for one night of partying?  Duh.  Well, to be fair, of the three friends who showed up from the Northwest, one is a flight attendant (Jenny), one is the flight attendant's resident boy-toy (Anthony-or "Anfernee"), and one moved to Enterprise, AL for training and was only a three hour drive away (one Tom Tupa).  But still, how popular would I look, having three friends from back home come to my Zone 3 party? Prom queen popular. 

The morning of the party, Tom Tupa arrived and Rooster, Tupa, and I set out to run standard pre-party errands: Kroger (for bbq fixin's, beer, chips, ice, etc.), Target (for a blow-up mattress for Jenny and Anfernee), and Marshall's (for an ice bucket, and sheets for the new blow-up mattress).  When we returned mid-day, it was time to get the party started by cracking first beer.  After Rooster made the short trip to Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport to pick up the rest of my Tacoma crew, my contribution to the shindig was complete.  Slowly, everyone arrived and the soiree was fully underway.  Here are a few pieces of photographic gold for you to feast your eyes upon. 

Val, giving fashionistas everywhere the finger by wearing white after Labor Day.

Mr. Charles, our DJ for the evening.

Scott and Joanna arriving in style.

The Overfields

 We all looked pretty lucid while the sun was awake.  And we just kept going... 

  

Rooster gives me a lift so my head can actually get in the shot.

Jenny telling dirty jokes.

End of the night hookah sesh (just flavored tobacco.  Don't worry, Army).

 The inaugural Woodster party went off without a hitch.  Even the dogs (specifically, Ryan) behaved themselves and made us proud parents.  I felt welcomed and embraced by my new Atlanta family, and hopefully it was the first of many social events to be held at Websterwood.

-Ado