At 10:15, I arrived in the parking deck of the Underground. It was around 40 degrees with the sun barely peaking beneath the clouds. I got a haunted feeling as I walked around the Underground area’s.
It was very quiet. The wind would whisper into you ear every once in awhile but other than that, the once lively place was very nonexistent. No stores were open beneath the ground and no living person walking above it. There was just a group of birds, settling on to the girl. It made me wonder if the stories of the Underground was true.
I tried to close my eyes and imagine the stories that my great grand mother would tell me of the sound of the music engulfing the streets. People dancing and chanting the lyrics of whatever jazz hit was playing at the time. I didn’t have any memories of my own of the Underground but I had my father, happily, explaining the different sites to me. He, as a civil engineer, believed that the closing down of multiple restaurants and the introduction of the negative atmosphere could of lead to the popularity of the Underground to decline.
It is odd to think the Underground was once this free-spirited place. People would run up and down central avenue with not a care in the world. Everyone knew everybody and if they didn’t exactly know you, they wanted to get to know you.
During the week, my father says the Underground is littered with police officers. Why? Because people enjoy breaking into and destroying their own community. It isn’t 1942, where my grandmother could ride from North Carolina to Atlanta to meet family and relax at the Underground. It is doubtful that they even play even a good brand of music, like jazz. It was like the Underground architecturally was stuck in time. However, socially, had changed from a tight knit community to a don’t trust anyone community. It was sad. No wonder, as I walked around, everything looked so lonely and depressing; especially for a weekend. Maybe it is because that I’m not from here and the small town that i did come from was free-spirited still, very lively, and a tight knit community that of course welcomed strangers. It could be because the Underground has simply lost its way.
At 10:15, I arrived in the parking deck of the Underground, which is located in downtown Atlanta. It was around 40 degrees with the sun barely peaking through the clouds. It was a Sunday and very quiet. There wasn’t a lot of people in the Underground. Mostly just homeless people wandering around, just beginning their day. There was a Christian man preaching but his words were more voice than meaning. The only stores that were open were the barbershops.
Majority of these buildings, if not all, were very old with barely resembling any modern building that would get build in the present day. The stores were very close together. There was spa after spa, salon after barber shop, and clothing store after boutique but difficult to find any other restaurants; especially family friendly restaurants. There was many that said twenty-one years old and above. Probably, because they sold mostly alcohol. The clothing stores sold clothes that looked like urban wear. They clothing was diverse but cheap. Unlike, north Atlanta…
There are many statues that are scattered around the Underground. Many are pin points to which part of the Underground you are located at.
Micheal Kenny was an Irishman who owned a Chicago Ale House on Pryor street but now he represents the entertainment portion of the Underground. This consist of many clubs, bars, and a stage for performances.
If you go through the entertainment part of the Underground, you will see the “very” old coca cola museum compared to the new coca cola museum that is located by the aquarium now.
In addition to all of the buildings, people, and statues, there is a lot of wildlife.
Such as birds… These birds show that animals can live anywhere; especially with a urban environment.