Atlanta: The final Chapter

I liked Atlanta, and I really relished my final hang-outs with Stephanie. We drove through Buckhead which was a pretty funky little neighbourhood. Reminded me a little bit of Montreal. It was a welcome change from the strip malls we seemed to be seeing in all the suburbs. We drove past the governor's house and through this neighbourhood with some spectacular homes.

Downtown was...well, basically just another downtown, albeit with a lot more Coca-Cola advertisements than I've ever seen in any town. But here's something I'd never seen before: Policemen wearing shorts! They seemed less intimidating somehow, stern faces and scowls notwithstanding. But you know, you still gotta respect a dude with a gun and a billy club, even if he has chicken legs and ashy knees.

Beluga was a cool martini bar in buckhead where we went for drinks that night, and the live band playing that night was the bomb! It's nice to be a spectator sometimes, you know? I expected a martini bar to be something like the Jello Bar, a little more loungy, more laid-back. Anyways, if it wasn't for the band, the killer music (we killed it on the dance floor, baby!) and super tasty martinis, it would have been disappointing. But it was all good.

Flying back home the next day was an ordeal. The kicker is, up until a certain point, I was just sailing on through. I even had time for a quick bite at a soul food joint. (Fried chicken, cornbread, collards, macaroni, and black eyed peas, all covered in hot sauce! Yum. Much better choice than the typical burger joint, or chinese food place, or sub-par Italian counter.) I couldn't finish my plate, though. Pity.

But once I hit airport security, it was ridiculous. It took two tries to make absolutely sure I didn't have a single thing in my purse or on my person that made them nervous. In the end, I had to mail some of my stuff back to myself. The lady in the Post Office was amazing. I didn't have enough money on me at the time so she paid for my shipping. I'm buying her a thank-you card today and enclosing a money order with it. Good Samaritans abound! I was truly humbled and touched by this perfect stranger just wanting to help me out.

Then came the mad dash to the train (yes, you have to take a train between terminals) and to board the plane. That convinced me to take the weight-loss thing seriously, I thought I would hyperventilate and pass out after that sprint.

It was one of those itty bitty planes, and I'd forgotten how bumpy a ride it can be in a fifty-seater. But it wasn't worrisome. By far, the most stressful flight I ever had in a small plane was the flight from Indonesia to Singapore with Lianne. I'll never forget the sight of the cockpit (because it was only separated from the cabin by a curtain, which was drawn back) completely lit up, beeping loudly, and the sight of the pilot scratching his head in confusion.

Then, home again, home again, jiggety jog.
My tale of my cross-country pilgrimage is done.

Spread love today, Bay-bees!