"There's a class in Atlanta that is definitely going to happen." said the lady on the phone.

O really?

It just so happens that the other office of the company I work for is located in Atlanta, coincidentally just down the street from the training center. We have a negotiated rate at the Wyndham hotel. I got the approval and signed up for the course.

Last Sunday Jana and I saw "Million Dollar Baby" and then she dropped me off at the airport. My flight was supposed to depart at 4:30PM but the board at the airport had it listed as DELAYED. They write it like that, in big red capitol letters. DELAYED. I had checked the weather previously and noted that there was a wind advisory in Atlanta so I wasn't surprised.

I checked in and got through security with a minimum of bad noise. I get easily confused and flustered so getting by belt back on and my laptop case all recombobulated took me a few minutes. I had minutes to spare, though. The plane was delayed untill 6:30, then 6:35. We wound leaving the ground close to 7.

I don't say that I'm "afraid of flying", but flying fills me with unease and nervousness. Are these little holes supposed to be in the window? Why is that man examining the wing with a flashlight? Why does my air blower smell like poop? Does anyone else feel that slight bouncing?

The lady who sat next to me on the plane seemed cold and unfriendly. I was nervous and I forgot to take my book out of my laptop case prior to sitting down so I just sat in my rearco designed seat wriging my hands and fiddling with my bottle of water. I didn't need her to hold my fucking hand, but you could at least return my hello. It was all cool though, because I when I pulled the nozzle on my bottle of water at 35000 feet the pressure difference caused a mist of water to shoot out all over both of us. We would've had a good laugh about that had we been on speaking terms.

The descent into Atlanta was a little rough, and I watched out the window at the rain streaking through the lights on the wings. The lights blinked every 2 or 3 seconds, and each time I expected them to blink on to reveal the wing had fallen off, or fuel was pouring out, or there was a gremlin pulling on the engine.

We landed and I had to piss like non-other. I took care of that business and started my hike through the Atlanta Airport. Atlanta is like an airport that happens to have a city around it. "Look at that", I thought, "there's a train that goes to the terminal". I was sick of being carreened around so I decided to walk. How long could it be? The answer is "really fucking long". I think my gate was in a different zipcode than the terminal and baggage check place.

I rode the MARTA to Peachtree and got off. It was pissing rain and I was tired from hauling my bags around. I ascended the worlds LONGEST escalator to the street, where I started to walk in one direction, got confused, and turned around. I heard a man say "What hotel are you looking for?" He had on a big stocking cap. "The Wynham" I said. "Right this way". We walked and talked. He told me he was staying at a shelter, waiting to get an efficiency apartment. He asked about where I came from. He said he's from Chicago and he stayed in Milwaukee for a while. We arrived at the hotel and I gave him 20 bucks. He said thanks, I said thanks, and I went inside.

I got checked in and went to my room. I enjoyed my complimentary Corona and ate some cheese and crackers, then I hit the hay. It was a long day.

I'm at the Wyndham right now, sitting in my office chair at the little desk. Atlanta is a clean city with slippery when wet sidewalks and everyone is very friendly. I haven't used soft toilet paper in three days, I miss my wife like gangbusters, and my legs hurt because I saw myself without my shirt on in one of the 47 God Damn mirrors in my hotel room and rushed downstairs to the elliptical trainer in the fitness room without properly stretching. It didn't help. Maybe it's the diet of fast food, cheese, and slim jims that I'm on.