Traveler Introverted: Welcome to Atlanta!

I always wanted to visit Atlanta. It was a mecca for Black people interested in relocating from New York City. Don’t debate me…it’s true. Every time a New Yorker told me they were moving, they were going to North Carolina, South Carolina, or Atlanta. I even had the thought for myself. I wanted more room to roam but I wanted to be around my “folks”. Black people tend to feel more secure around other Black people. You don’t have to admit it out loud. I’ll do that for you.

Atlanta was the next city on our group member meetup list. Members had messaged Jason, another group admin, and I to coordinate events. We opted to have a meetup at a local Atlanta lounge on the Friday, and then have a barbecue for members on Saturday.

Jason and I flew into Atlanta together. I was surprised at how well he maneuvered in the airport. He always seemed like he knew where he was going. I followed him to a set of airport shuttle buses, in order to get to a park and ride location, where our Atlanta host made vehicle accommodations for us.

We met up with one of Jason’s friends, who flew in from Detroit for the meetup.We toured the city, in search of food. Jason had created a chicken and waffle post, asking members in the group for great chicken and waffle spots in their local city. That post brought us to BQE lounge for chicken and red velvet waffles in Atlanta.

My dream of moving to Atlanta had fizzled, long before the day of our arrival. Atlanta was now home to many former New Yorkers. We have the tendency to take our most prominent characteristics with us wherever we go. Atlanta had now become home to head nod greetings, limited patience, wheat timberland boots, and heavy traffic. I can say that stuff…I’m a New Yorker. I still love my tribe.

The time had come for Jason and I to get ready for the 255 Tapas Lounge meetup. The butterflies came rushing in. Did I pre-grame? Yes, and I will not be judged. Some people smoke crack to calm their nerves. I happen to like fruity drinks, that mask the entire taste of alcohol. Don’t yuck my yum.

We arrived at the lounge, not long before other group members began coming in. We did formal introductions and began ordering food.

My introverted nature began to show face. The booth I was sitting in became the era of small talk. I didn’t have much to say outside of offering answers to questions asked to me. Then out of nowhere, I remembered that I do have genuine interest in the group members. So, I really did want to know what they did for a living, and how long they had been doing it. I wanted to know about their travels and where it began. I wanted to know about their experiences. Suddenly, small talk was no longer small talk. It was me garnering information about the lives of people in which I shared a common interest.

Something happens when you’re out with a group of people that are happy to see one another. Free drinks begin to come in from everywhere. While having amazing conversation with one of the group members, I began sipping one of the drinks from the pool of drinks, in which people had purchased for me. By one, I actually mean three. I think it was three. It may have been four. The cups all feel the same, and the drinks all tasted like alcohol. By drink three or four, it was time to get it. #LitBae excited slipped out of the depths of my subconscious and began to mingle.

She darted back and forth in a frenzy, attempting to speak with every member who took the time to come out. She cracked jokes, gave out hugs, and would stop speaking for impromptu dances with herself. Like a match with no breeze to stifle ambition, I had been lit.

I started trouble with one of the groups most well loved members. After I made passive threats, we spoke about what he did for work, and some of his family dynamics. I noticed that he didn’t use any profanity during the course of our conversation. That’s typical for many of the people that I know but I realized that he was intentionally omitting curse words as he substituted “heck” for “hell” and “darn” for “damn”. I found it comical. He came across intelligently in conversation and it was clear that he was a gentleman. He ordered me a drink. It was a “blue mf-er”. At least, that’s what he called it. I had never heard of it but I like blue stuff. I like the ocean blue and the sky blue. I like when things happen in a blue moon. Why couldn’t I like a “blue mf-er”?

The drink came and we continued conversing while we shared a few laughs. I drank the blue concoction quickly, hoping to catch the taste. I didn’t taste anything. It was like my taste buds had undergone some type of paralysis. I finished the drink and decided to look for the hosting member of the group. She had moved to a different section of the lounge and I wanted to see when she would be ready to hang out.

I walked toward the ramp that lead to the internal section of the lounge. My legs rushed me down the slow hill on autopilot. I chuckled to myself as I thought about how strange the momentum felt. My legs felt borrowed.

I found our host on the inside dancing with a few other members. I headed toward her but was suddenly distracted by a song change that prompted a slow wind. I obliged without thought. Just a few winds and a couple of ticks, and I would be back on my mission.

The song finished and I obviously forgot why I had come into that space. I looked from side to side, as if my memory was actually floating around in the room, and I didn’t want anyone to see it and take it from me. It was obviously already gone.

The member hosting Jason and I called out to me. She asked me what time we were leaving. Memory recovered. I responded by asking her what time she was leaving. She told me that she was going to leave in about 20 minutes. I told her that Jason and I would probably be leaving sooner than that.

I walked back to the ramp that had previously propelled me forward. This time though, I was met with inertia. My legs wouldn’t go up the ramp. This body was defying me. I grabbed the side rail with my left hand and began to pull myself forward. I wondered why this lounge didn’t have a motorized ramp, like the ones in the airport. I called myself a genius silently and made my way to Jason. I told him that our host was leaving in 20 minutes but Jason was ready to leave at that moment.

Jason led me out of the door, as I felt myself bobbing like a freshwater fishing floater. I felt good.

I fell asleep in the car, and don’t really remember going into the house or getting into the bed but y’all not finna judge me. Yes, I like using the word “finna”.

The next day, the host told me that I burst into the house like a police officer making a drug bust. I obviously don’t remember that event. I did find it curious that she saw me coming in, which made me wonder about my timeline of events. My timeline is almost always off. Life moves in slow motion when #LitBae is driving.

The night before had been a blast! I bonded with members over past experiences in love, life, travel, and the fact that I was an introvert. I was able to meet members who were everything like their Facebook personalities, or conversely, nothing like their Facebook personalities at all. We had a lot of fun that night, and a few of those members opted to come to the barbecue the next day because of the great time they had with Jason and I at the lounge.

The Saturday barbecue was a labor of love. Our hosting member and I did most of the cooking for the event. Jason made his famous rum punch. All was well, and then I ate the fruit. I mean, things were still well, but my #LitBae transformations are hysterical. My personality remains the same but it just becomes hyper vigilant in communications. I’m even still an introvert at that time. I speak to one or two people at a time and run of into the night, looking for another duo or trio to speak to about something comical. May alter ego, still doesn’t do small talk. She speaks on things that are happening in the moment, making light of everything in the vicinity. She makes people laugh and then darts away again.

Contrary to popular belief, my personality is enormous. People tend to think that because I’m an introvert, I must be shy. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. I can monologue for hours and everyone I know tells me that I’m funny, even when I use my serious voice. It could be because my vocal chords are glazed with sarcasm, but I’m just being me.

Atlanta was the first time that I acknowledged that I can, in fact, make friends in my 30s. I always thought that it would be difficult to make long lasting relationships after a certain point in life. That’s just not true. Every journey is a new opportunity for me to say yes. Being an introvert who travels is changing my life in abundant ways. I’ve never felt more free to be me. I am living each day in a way that removes restrictions from life. The abundance pouring into me, is clear indication that all of this is happening with God’s blessing. I’m still a homebody, but the good news is that so many other people and places are beginning to feel like home too, so long as I get to go back to my actual home in a couple of days.

I love my life as a traveler, still introverted! #IssaGift