Every year, Bonnie and a group of fellow nerds meet up at a major city and have a weekend-long nerd party. Bonnie insists that it isn�t really a nerd party, it�s an independent computer consultants conference, but to me that just seems like a posh name for a nerd party. Basically, a large group of nerds get together and talk about nerd stuff for two whole days. This is great news for me, because I get to go along as a guest, and explore whatever city we�re in while Bonnie sits in nerd sessions.

This year�s conference was in Atlanta, Georgia� and that is where Bonnie and I were at the weekend.

The hotel was in Buckhead, a very affluent area a couple of miles north of downtown Atlanta. The drive there was pretty impressive, as on each side of the road were enormous mansions with gardens the size of football fields � clearly this is where Atlanta�s most wealthy live. There wasn�t a great deal within walking distance (or at least my walking distance) of the hotel, but the close-by MARTA station meant that it was possible to get to just about everything with public transport.

The conference began with the Friday night reception, where everybody ate lots of food and played a few games to break the ice. This actually turned out to be the best possible thing for me, as I was grouped with five other people who were there as guests. Usually the conversations at the conference are about nerd stuff, and are way over my head. The people are very friendly and interesting, but frighteningly techie. Our table, however, talked about normal, non-nerd things, and I didn�t feel unenlightened for not knowing what a super-sonic-techno-oojamiflip is.

Saturday morning, after devouring the pastries Bonnie had sneaked for me from downstairs, I pondered what to do. I wanted to go to Little Five Points � a very hip shopping area that I fell in love with on my first visit to Atlanta. It is full of quirky vintage shops, and home to The Junkman�s Daughter, which happens to be my favourite store of all time. I didn�t have any money to spend there, but it�s always fun just to look. Then I wondered if I should do something a little more grown up, like visit some art galleries, because as an art student I ought to be doing that anyway.

Still pondering, I went down to the lobby to ask where the MARTA station was. There, I ran into Mary Kate (NOT the Olsen twin), one of the guests I sat with the previous night. She said she would walk with me to the station, since she already knew where it was. When I mentioned Little Five Points, she became suddenly ecstatic � she was desperate to go, but didn�t think anybody else would want to go with her. Well, that decided it. If Mary Kate wanted somebody to go to Little Five Points with, then I was only happy to oblige.

Mary Kate was very cool. Like most people at the conference, she was a good deal older than me � into her early 50s. Like me, she was delighted to be away from the freezing-ass cold at home, although home for her was Minneapolis rather than England. She was very open minded, very young at heart, and a great deal of fun. I was glad to have somebody else to spend the day with � navigating the MARTA was a far less intimidating thought when there were two of us.

We rode a few stops on the MARTA, which was a little like the Tube in London. It was a bit of a walk from the station to Little Five Points, but not too far. The weather was just right � warm, but not so swelteringly hot that we were melting. We found the Junkman�s Daughter almost immediately. I don�t know how long we spent in there, but it must have been at least an hour. If I�d had the money, I would have come away with so many bags full of weird and wonderful stuff, that I would never have been able to get it all back to the UK. Given that I am only allowed two checked bags, it�s probably just as well that I was just looking and not buying.

A little way up the street from the Junkman�s Daughter is the Vortex bar and grill. I�d never been in it before, but I always remember it because the entrance looks like this:

It reminds me of the ghost trains I used to ride at the fair when I was little. By the time we�d finished puttering in the Junkman�s Daughter, Mary Kate and I were hungry. Since the Vortex was the nearest eating place, we decided to eat there, even though there was a queue. Mary Kate was keen to try one of their burgers, since the Vortex has consistently been voted the makers of the best burger in Atlanta. I was so hungry that I would�ve eaten a table leg, but I was secretly hoping for hashbrowns or shrimp instead.

The Vortex has a great no-nonsense attitude towards its customers. Read this and this, and you get the idea. I really wish we�d had policies like that to screen callers at SFC; however, without the whiners, rude bastards, tight-asses, idiots and con-artists, SFC wouldn�t have had any callers at all, and I wouldn�t have had a job. The Vortex must be doing very well if they can tell two thirds of the population to fuck off, and still have a huge queue for lunch.

I don�t remember the exact wording of the �warning� on the menu, but it was something like:

�Everything you need to know is printed somewhere within this menu. Please do not waste our time by asking stupid questions. If you do ask a stupid question, we will be forced to mock you.�

We had a great time. Mary Kate ordered her burger, and informed me that it really was superb. I ordered a whopping portion of fried shrimp and French fries, and remembered to not eat the tails. (Last week, Bonnie and I went to Captain D�s to get fried shrimp. I was so excited to finally get to eat fried shrimp again after nine months, that I forgot to peel the tails and simply ate the whole thing. It was� crunchy.) Anyway, we talked, and watched people, and drank bucket-sized tumblers of iced tea� and then we hit the shops again.

I did splash out on one, very inexpensive thing: a Mendhi tattoo. I�ve always thought it would be really neat to have a small tattoo on the inside of my wrist, but have never been brave enough to go for it. I just have the one on my back. Outside one of the shops, a lady was doing Mendhi, so I asked if she could do the Chinese symbol for �tranquillity� on my wrist. When I asked which way it should face, she told me that if I wanted to send myself tranquillity I should have it facing towards me, and if I wanted to send tranquillity to other people I should have it facing away from me. I thought about how stressed Bonnie has been about the house, and decided that she could probably use some tranquillity. So I asked the lady if she�d do the design facing away from me.

The lady was Czech, very nice and very interesting. As well as tattoo designs, she also had a few photographs of her paintings, which she showed me after I expressed an interest. I was blown away � her work was stunning. The Chinese design didn�t take very long. When she�d finished, the Czech lady asked if I would like her to draw a lotus flower above it, to represent everything about being a woman � she said she would do this free of charge. Of course, I said �sure�.

If I had a permanent tattoo on my inner wrist, it would be much smaller � maybe half the size of the lotus flower. But Mendhi only lasts a few weeks, so I was happy to have something a bit bigger. This is what it looked like after I washed off the henna paste (which had to stay on for 6+ hours), and gave it a day or so to darken.

I think it�s neat. I�m very tempted to go for a permanent one. I will draw out some designs sometime�

By the tattoo stand, Mary Kate got stopped by a TV crew. They were filming a programme about style and fashion, and wanted to talk to Mary Kate about her bright pink handbag. I gave the camera a �rabbit caught in car headlights� look and ran off to hide behind it, where I watched Mary Kate give an interview. The presenter was saying stuff like: �now, this is a woman who has style!� Unfortunately we didn�t catch which channel it was going to be on, but if anybody in the Atlanta area sees a television clip of a pink handbag clad lady and a lanky spiky-haired girl, that was us.

Another highlight of Little Five Points was that I saw a four-month-old Italian greyhound. With the exception of my own dog Chrissie, this little puppy was the sweetest thing I have ever seen in my entire life. I fell in love utterly and completely. I have adored greyhounds for as long as I can remember, but I have never seen a miniature one before; at least, not in the flesh. It put its paws in my lap (such delicate, elegant paws) and raised its graceful little head inquisitively to my eye level. It looked at me with big, beautiful eyes, and I thought: �I want to be your mommy!�

One day, I am going to have an Italian greyhound. (And I will name it Squishy and it will be my little Squishy� yup, imagine Dory and the baby jellyfish: that�s me and the Italian greyhound.)

Shortly after the canine encounter, it got to be time to leave. The conference meal was at 18:00, and we had to get showered and changed. It was starting to rain a little anyway, and I was worried about getting the henna paste wet. We found our way back to the MARTA station, caught the train back to Buckhead, and burst into the hotel about 17:55. I barely had time to pull on my dress and slap on some make-up, but I made it to dinner (albeit smelling a bit sweaty).

I should write about the entertainment we had after dinner. But I think I�ll make it another entry. 1800 words in one go is more than anybody should have to endure.