Erin's Suburban Hell

Here is your guide. More than what I had when I did the trip.

It was one of the first gorgeous Saturday days of a Georgia spring and I was just starting to feel good after my surgery. I had been cooped up for the last 2 weeks at home and sitting in the office. I was ready to start a new beginning in Georgia with the new season. So I decided to take advantage of the nice weather and go explore what PTC had to offer. I drove my nice new car to Peachtree Lake (1) and started to explore. First, I checked out the fountain in front of the City Hall/Library. Next, I looked over the disc golf course. And then finally, I got serious and started walking around the lake.

Just stay by the fountain and you'll be fine.

I felt pretty good and entered the wooded area. Not completely sure where I was going I figured I could always backtrack. I had been on this first part of the path before. It was nice and everyone that walked or drove by in their golf carts smiled. I approached what I thought was a funny site (2). Someone had drawn a chalk outline of a person on the path. It didn't say "Abandon all hope all who enter here…" so I figured I was still good. I took a picture and moved on.

Sometimes you have to see the signs and READ them.

As I progressed I started to wonder where I was actually at. Right then (3) I saw a sign. It said "THE FRED" and it pointed further down the trail. (The Fred is the local amphitheatre. I was just wondering the other day how to get there so I thought I would walk a little more to see where it was.) I walked and then checked my watch (4). I had been walking for a while now. But it couldn't be that far. The people that passed by me didn't seem as friendly now. Maybe my look of bewilderment was showing. Could the locals see my fear? Were they going to attack? I quickened my step.

I was starting to worry now. I had just realized (5) that the lake was larger then it appeared on the map that I looked at earlier. They really should have a note on those things saying that the actual size is bigger than the picture.

By now (6) I had made it half way around the lake. So I thought. There was a map. I stood in front of it all sweaty in my jeans and t-shirt wishing I had dressed better for a walk of this size. My heart sank. I was on the opposite side of the lake from my car. All I wanted was to lie down. The people gave me dirty looks as I almost had to kiss the small posted map. I was without my reading glasses. Now I had a decision to make. Did I backtrack the way I came? Or do I continue on? At this point I had lost hope of actually finding this Fred they spoke of. But I still chose to walk the other side of the lake. Apparently, in my delusional state I thought that half way was half way any way you sliced it. But I would soon remember I was in Georgia not Iowa where this sort of logic did not exist.

I continued on the trail (7). Why was I walking away from the lake? Why couldn't I see the lake? But I saw that the path started to go back to the lake so I continued on. Walking, walking, walking. I started to feel the burn. Then my side got a stitch. Then my belly button started to hurt. O, no. I was supposed to be resting not killing myself! But what could I do? I was already, what I thought, over halfway done. I was able to see the lake again (8) so there was a glimmer of hope. Turning back would be worse. So I thought.

Soon the view of the lake was gone. I started to pull on my jeans to make it up the hill (9). I thought about stopping but then I knew I would not start again. And I was lost. Lost in my own Suburban Hell. Houses to the left and right. No lake in site. Even Dante had Virgil to guide him. Where was my guide? I thought about my phone. I could call for help. But who would I call? And the energy that I would have to spend to push the buttons was too much. With only the path to guide me I mustered the energy to move forward.

I thought of happier times, of the A/C in my new car, my comfortable bed, children playing. What children playing? I saw another sign (10). This time it was of a teeter-totter in the middle of the road with children playing on it. I took another picture. My heart sank. Here I am following and putting my trust in a path that was probably planned by the same stupid urban planners that put a piece of playground equipment in the middle of the road. Ug…stupid sadistic engineers. I hurried on hoping not to meet any of them.

Who thought a teeter-totter in the middle of the road was a good idea?

By time I reached (11) I had lost all hope. I started to look for a place to lie down and die. I would never seem my car again, my prized Beatrice.

Just when I started to fluff my death bed (12) I saw another sign. It read a street name that seemed familiar to me. Now this was only a little hope since all the names are the same with the exception of the BLV, ST, RD, addendum and what not. With the little energy I had left I carried my feeble body on. I hoped that my anguish would soon be over. And then I saw the City Hall/Library (13).

The end was near! I moved with all my power hoping not to collapse on the pavement in front of my car. I unlocked to doors and climbed in. For the first few minutes I just sat there with the A/C blowing on me. My legs were too weak to use the peddles. My multiple hour adventure was finally over. I mustered up enough energy to drive home never seeing the Fred.