Last semester I worked at Atlanta Legal Aid. My boss, an amicable sort, had many convictions, the most prevalent one being: “There is no onion ring better than the onion rings they make at The Varisty.”
Now I’m a reasonable man. I believe that reasonable convictions maintained by reasonable people should be viewed reasonably. However, something here seemed awry.
“You mean to tell me,” I said, “in all the world, there are no onion rings better than the ones at The Varsity?”
“No sir,” he said. “Definitely not.”
Tonight, I had to grab a quick dinner between class and rehearsal for The VD Show; a Valentine’s Day show I’m doing with Out of Hand Theater featuring a musical I wrote called “The Boy Who Went Blind” and a musical piece I wrote called “Women Outside The Bakery” to be performed at CJ’s Landing in Buckhead February 12th to the 14th; live music, prizes, and I’m playing with the band (I hope they let me sing “Hey Ya!”). I decided The Varisty would do the trick.
The Varisty is an Atlanta staple. You just see it and think “Atlanta” in all its good and bad connotations. I walked in and saw three white men eating alone in trucker hats. The counter was dead; sleepy black women in visors stood sullenly on the other side.
“A #1 please,” I said.
“You want onions?” asked the woman.
“OK,” I said.
I paid and received my tray.
The chili dogs? Well they were good. I really like chili dogs. It’s my vice. Some people smoke cigarettes; some people do drugs. I eat chili dogs. Though, it should be noted, the chili is rather–umm–well it kind of tastes like cloth ground up and soaked in beef juice. I mean that in a good way.
The onion rings? They were the best part. The best in Atlanta? Surely. The best in the world?
Well, boss, maybe. Just maybe.
Next time, get yerself an F.O. to go with that Yankee dog.
-or- try a slaw dog. nothing says good eatin’ like a hot dog covered in cole slaw.
You spelled “The Varsity” wrong.