The Exodus

Yesterday was the annual mass exodus from Augusta. This exodus has no biblical connotation whatsoever, unless you count the fact that many people worship the ground at the Augusta National. No, this exodus is the swift and powerful exit at the end of the Masters tournament. Never has there been a more audible sigh of relief from an entire community as our seams are relaxed and we can once again resume normal life. The fans, the rental cars, the limosines, the RVs, the news trucks, the white vans, the golf advertisements, the traffic, the golfers themselves.... they have all left. Here we are the next day, just plain old Augusta again. All the fanfare and excitement is gone, but we are happy. Next year the excitement will build again, "they" will come again, and another exodus will occur, and so on. I lived in Augusta for a few years before I really saw the full force of all the Masters hoopla. Then I moved into this neighborhood (right across the street from the Augusta National), and I finally realized just how much happens during the famous Masters week. I also experienced for the first time the longing for it to go away. I wanted the normal streets back, restuarants without the wait, life as we know it here, boring as it sometimes is. So that year I decided to sit out on Washington Road, right outside the gate, and wave goodbye to the fans as the exodus took place. My friend Sarah Mizelle joined me, and we had a blast. It was so much fun that we decided to make it an annual affair, but unfortunately one thing or another has prevented it for the last two years. This year, however, the tradition continued. Sarah, Jennifer, and I can be seen below wishing all the fans well. Our signs read, "Have a Safe Trip Home", "See Ya Next Year", and "Y'all Come Back!" As happy as we are to see the fans leave, we have tried to be as nice as possible to them. It's funny because most people don't really know what to think of us. Some try to walk by without making eye contact. Others laugh. Others stop and chat. For the most part, they are just surprised that we are actually sitting there on the side of the road and not trying to sell them anything. And we're just glad they are on their way out.