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Stuff for Sobers

If you're around over Labor Day, this is your opportunity to see a guy dressed as a Stormtrooper fall down the stairs at the Sheraton after drinking a liter of vodka.

by Julie Hines
Jan 1 2000, 12:00am

Photo by Julie Hines

The library is pretty much the snore-job you’d expect, but if you go around back there’s a big waterfall in the woods that’s the perfect place to relax and quietly secrete all the previous night’s toxins. A few people think this is some “locals only” secret you shouldn’t go telling strangers about. Evidently they haven’t seen the enormous mural of it that takes up one of Mary Mac’s entire walls. 441 Freedom Pkwy.

aka indoor lacrosse in bumper cars, aka the greatest sport ever invented. You have to bring like 15 people to make it worth doing, but they let you drink there and sometimes bands play. 608 Holcomb Bridge Rd.

This is where you go when the strap on your bondage pants breaks and you need a replacement. 464 Moreland Ave.

Tucked away in the Georgia Tech campus, go here to see all-ages shows by bands whose names are complete sentences. 840 McMillan St.

Only worth it for the big room at the end where you can try every Coke product made worldwide. Buried in the middle is an Italian “bitter aperitif” called Beverly that is literally the worst-tasting drink in the universe. We once saw a ten-year-old kid on a field trip down an entire cup on a dare before puking ferociously into and all over the nearby trash can. The cheers were deafening. 121 Baker St NW.

Another good hangover option is zoning out here in the dark with all the fish. Just try not to bad-trip on the fact that they’ve managed to kill two of their whale sharks in the four years they’ve been open. It was built to be bigger than the Tennessee Aquarium in Chattanooga, which was a pretty dick move considering that was about all Chattanooga had going for it. 225 Baker St NW.

This colossal granite dome has served as the site of the 1915 revival of the KKK, a suicide by plane, and for some reason the statue of Tupac that graces the cover of this guide. But its most important role to date is as backdrop for a semi-nightly laser show whose musical set list and graphics have not changed in over 20 years. The surfing monkey they do for the Beach Boys is kind of lame, but it’s hard not to get a little choked up during the closing one-two punch of Elvis’s “American Trilogy” and Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the USA.” Or not to feel a little weird when all the black families file out at the opening bars of “Dixie.” Take Memorial Dr east past I-285, then follow the signs.

Don’t know about you, but I can think of few better ways to spend an afternoon than strolling through some lilacs and contemplating the serenity of couplets like “Nigga punk-ass motherfucker you ain’t shit without your homeboys/Throw your hands up you little trick coward motherfucker.” Just so we’re all on the same page, Tupac never lived here. 5616 Memorial Dr.

If you’re around over Labor Day, this is your opportunity to see a guy dressed as a Stormtrooper fall down the stairs at the Sheraton after drinking a liter of vodka.

I think there’s supposed to be some historical tidbit about this place like it’s the oldest continually operating drive-in in the country or Kennedy once came here. I forget the exacts. They mostly play movies that are out everywhere, but it’s still worth a larf to cram a bunch of friends in your trunk and watch Mall Cop or something while hotboxing the car. 2000 Moreland Ave SE.

Who needs a bunch of IMAX shit about sharks when you can slowly rotate in the middle of a giant painting of the Battle of Atlanta? Not stoned people. Shows start on the hour—try to time it so you don’t have to spend too long hanging around the depressingly rundown mini-museum in the lobby. 800 Cherokee Ave SE.

Maybe a little far afield, but if you need a break from the city you should totally take a day trip up to this fake Bavarian town in the North Georgia mountains. After you’ve ridden a horse up the side of Highway 17 and inner-tubed down the murky, inches-deep Chattahoochee River, you can splurge on all the drug paraphernalia and homemade fudge your 12-year-old heart desires.