Atlanta’s identity crisis manifests itself in many forms.

If one were to theorize based solely on the city’s tourist attractions, you’d have a pretty good argument to make that Atlantans, despite being 1,500 comfortable feet above sea-level, aren’t really landlubbers at heart.  Considering we brag about having the world’s largest aquarium and now word that a pirates museum might be in the works, it’s hard not to suspect that Atlantans miss the slightly pungent salt sea air and the glittery sand between their toes.

Sure there’s Coke.  And “The General” sits silently out at the Southern Museum in Kennesaw, while we continue to hear talk of a Civil Rights Museum, but ultimately Atlanta seems to have lost the battle to remember it’s race and rail culture and has little desire to trumpet it’s snug location along the Piedmont.  And in any town devoid of character, the global economy has no problem filling the tourist gap with what’s popular on a world stage (NASCAR, aquariums, pirates, etc…) instead.

Not that many rail towns today don’t suffer this same fate – often chosen due to the intersection of ridgelines – but Atlanta seems especially reluctant to play off it’s second-tier strengths, regardless of how ridiculous the alternative.