Like just about every other sizable body of water in Georgia, Carters Lake is not a lake but a reservoir. It was created thirty-six years ago, when the Coosawattee River—which had been diverted to permit construction of the largest earthen dam east of the Mississippi—slammed into the dam’s embankment.
Located in Piedmont Heights in the old Anchor Bar & Tattoo space, Little Rey will offer tacos (including breakfast tacos), salads, and chicken al carbon, ordered at the counter or picked up at a take-out window.
The tiny dance floor is packed. Guitar riffs flash like lightning from amplifiers three feet above the crush of swaying, sweating dancers. In the men's room, a couple is clumsily trying to have sex standing in the toilet stall next to the overflowing urinal. "Put it there," slurs the dark-haired woman to her obviously smashed partner. Outside, a tourist visiting from Toronto meets an attractive, well-educated woman, a chemist, she tells him. Half an hour later, they are having oral sex in the parking lot alongside someone's parked van. He couldn't remember her name. — Friday night at Carlos McGee's, July 1981
The first Taqueria del Sol opened in Atlanta in 2000, but the roots of the business go all the way back to 1987, when owner Mike Klank first met chef Eddie Hernandez.
Our nightlife hit an ecstatic peak in the 1990s, a decade lubricated by the free-flowing cash of the dot-com boom, the flash of the burgeoning hip-hop scene, and the youthful exuberance of the Olympics. Of those years, none, arguably, was better than 1996, when you could conceivably hit all of these places in one glorious night.
China Kitchen at Atlanta's Chinatown food court has a monster soup dumpling that you drink with a bubble tea straw. (But don't skip ordering the normal-sized soup dumplings, too.)
As Tag Team, Cecil Glenn, aka DC the Brain Supreme, and Steve “Rolln” Gibson may be one-hit wonders, but oh, what a hit. The thumping bass, gleeful spirit, and endless chants of the title phrase have made 1993’s “Whoomp! (There It Is)” one of the most enduring party songs of the past 25 years.
“We wanted to show that love can go beyond the color of your skin,” says musician Mac Powell of the blended family he’s created with his wife, Aimee. Mac tours either as a solo act or with his Christian rock band, Third Day, about 100 days out of the year, so when he’s off the road, he stays close to home and makes sure the family sits down together.