Growing up Goralczyk
It was Sunday, November 2nd, 2003. The Goralczyks were living in
downtown Atlanta, off of Metropolitan Blvd. If you know Atlanta at all,
you may know that this is not what one would consider the “nice”
side of town. It was where that poor little baby child that Elvis was
talking about was born. Times weren’t great, but this day was going
to be great. On this day Ron and his offspring were going to watch the
Philadelphia Eagles take on the Atlanta Falcons live and in person.
It was a 4pm game, which left plenty of time for ‘pregaming’ for Ron.
Joey and I were still wee little things (16 and 13) that did not partake in
any such activities yet. Ron was feeling super good by the time we set
out for the game, all three of us decked out in our Eagles attire, Joey
and I wearing a couple of Dad’s jerseys. We followed our father to the
MARTA station, boarded the appropriate train, and were at the Dome in
no time (one perk of our less than ideal living arrangement at the time).
We went in and found our seats. We were misplaced and outnumbered
in our Eagles attire, but it was ok. We were confident. We were Philly
fans. We feared no other obnoxious fan. Joey and I were settling in
while Dad went to smoke a cigarette, and ‘Get a beer!’ That was a
phrase we would hear several, several times during this football game.
The game progressed and the Eagles were leading! Dad had to have
a celebratory beer. Oh! The Falcons tied the game. Dad needed a nerve
calming beer. Uh oh, the Falcons were leading, Dad needed a cigarette
and another beer, because this was bull$%**. The Eagles brought it
back, and it looked like we were going to win! This was great. Dad, my
very happy, vocal, obnoxious, outnumbered, and drunk Dad, suggested
he needed another cigarette. I had mixed feelings about this. I felt
it was a good idea for him to vacate this area, as he was ruthlessly
heckling all the Atlanta fans near us, which was basically everyone
near us. I was also concerned. Cigarette run = beer run, and even 13
year old me could see that he’d had enough if we were to make it out
of this Georgia Dome in one piece.
I made a small request, “Dear Father of mine, please don’t get
another beer.” The man looked at me and said, “Ok, sure.” The same
man came back with a beer and gave me the very ‘Nelson from The
Simpson’s “HA HA!”. Fine old man, fine.
The game ended. The EAGLES WON! We were happy. Dad wasn’t
3 sheets to the wind, he was more like 7. He was behaving in true
Obnoxious Philadelphia Eagle Fan style and loudly heckling every
Falcon fan he saw. And there were a lot of them. I was trying to wrangle
him in while Joey decided to walk a good 15ft. behind us, pretending
not to see the struggle. Every once in a while he would get loose from
me, run up and into the biggest, scariest Falcon fans he could find and
yell “E A G L E S!!!! WOO!!” The only thing that saved his life in these
moments was me and my 13 year old eyes pleading with disgruntled
Falcon’s fans ‘Please don’t kill this man in front of me.’ All the while,
Joey was a solid 20ft. behind us, pretending he didn’t see his father
body slamming scary strangers, as we made our way out of the Dome.
Finally we got outside. It was now when I realized I didn’t know how
30 TYBEE BEACHCOMBER | OCT 2019
By Jordan Goralczyk
to get back home. And my GPS system to get home was thoroughly and
completely drunk. Have you ever tried to get directions out of a drunken,
obnoxious Eagles fan after a win, GPS system? No, you haven’t.
The only luck I had was that somehow I had Ron’s cigarettes. He
was not cooperating with telling Joey and I how to get back to the
MARTA station. But man, he wanted a cigarette. So the deal was get us
to the MARTA station and get a cigarette. He was not happy, I was not
happy. Joey was pretending he didn’t know us, but from 30ft. away, he
didn’t look happy either. But towards the MARTA station we walked.
Apparently we walked in the wrong direction. It felt like we were under
the Dome at one point. We picked up straggler, a beaten up Eagles fan
(cause you know, obnoxious and all) who walked with us for a while
until he realized we had no idea where we were going and wandered
off. We walked and walked (well, I was basically dragging Ron). The
only thing that kept him moving was rib shots and the promise of that
cigarette.
Finally we reached the MARTA station. I gave Ron his cigarette, and
we were officially at odds now. Too much was said on our Journey from
the Dome… I was mad at him for acting a fool, he was mad at me for
holding his cigarettes for ransom (and maybe about all the rib shots).
Either way, Ron was not helping any more… not that he had been very
helpful to this point… but he was definitely not helping now. But that
was ok, because Joey had rejoined the family and now we could figure
out what train to get on. Sure we could.
We lived in ‘West End’ of Atlanta, so obviously we needed to get on
the train going west. Yes, that was it. So we wrangled Ron onto the
westbound train, along with a very nice middle-aged couple. As we
rode the train, Ron continued to let Joey and I know he didn’t appreciate
our attitudes and the withholding of cigarettes. I continued to voice my
displeasure with him as well. At one point Ron asked the middle-age
couple that boarded the train with us if they would be interested in
buying ‘a couple ungrateful white kids.’ The same nice couple would
also inform us we were, in fact, on the wrong train and halfway to
Alabama.
Wanna go to West End in Atlanta? Apparently the southbound train
was your ride. Much fighting had taken place on our now late night
train ride. Someone whose name started with R and ends with on
may have peed on the train. No one was happy anymore. We finally
found ourselves at the MARTA station by where we lived. The train door
opened and Ron was gone. He was making his way home and leaving
his two ungrateful kids in the dust. While this was a bit unnerving, we
walked slow. If he wanted to show up at home and explain to Leigh that
he left us at the MARTA station, we’d let him.
Luckily, we made it home safely. It was a funny story. The next day.
When we told Ron what all had happened, and who won the game.