Sunday, February 1, 2009

Reaaly Late Notes On Atlanta

Ok. I'm running a little behind here. I wrote this post weeks ago and it's been languishing in my drafts. At the rate I'm going, I figure old news is better than no news.

Three weeks ago, I took a weekend business trip to Atlanta. With the exception of arriving late in Charlotte and having to run to catch my connecting flight and coupled with the fact that I did not end up standing on a wing in the middle of the Hudson River, the trip was flawless.

You'll recall from my last post that my wardrobe was a burning issue. I traveled in jeans. The bad news is that I broke my vow and bought a pair in a larger size. The good news is that while I am no longer an 8, I am also not a 10. By the time I reached Charlotte, the fricken things were falling off of me and dragging on the ground. I ditched them in CLT and donned a pair of black slacks. (That was for you, Thystle.)

The Atlanta airport is huge. Had I known there was a train that runs from one end to the other, I'd have avoided walking the 6 miles between one gate and the rapid transit system that took me directly to downtown. By the time I reached it, my feet were screaming get the F off of me. It dropped me less than a block from from America's Mart, the biggest fricken design and gift center I've ever seen. Which was less than a block away from my hotel. Round trip MARTA fare - four bucks. This was a seriously good deal which did nothing to prepare me for my one hotel meal.

On Sunday morning, I decided to continue my morning breakfast routine - two eggs, over easy, wheat toast, beans and coffee ($3.24 plus tip at my diner.) The same breakfast in the Hyatt dining room? $24.79 plus tip. WTF? Exactly what can be done to eggs to make them worth my entire breakfast budget for a week? If I hadn't known my waiter was completely innocent, I'd have dipped my cloth napkin in my $4.75 cup of coffee (are you fricken kidding me?) and snapped his skinny ass with the end of it. I know. I got issues.

I arrived home Monday morning in a summer weight jacket. The guy next to me on the plane was wearing flip flops. The shuttle drove right past my car - buried under 9" of snow and plowed in on three sides. Dropped me off forty cars away. At a deserted bus stop. At 1:15 am. Just so you know, two overloaded rolling suitcases full of pottery do not roll in the snow.

7 comments:

Laura said...

I missed you at the show! I didn't realize you commented after me on your blog. Gosh, I thought you dissed me or something. haha. hope the show went well and talk to you soon!

Debbie said...

What an adventure. I hate pants that don't fit. That is misery. And I hate overpriced food. At that rate, the waiter should have chewed it for you.

Amy said...

Trust me, NOTHING rolls well in snow, as I've found out since it always snows right around trash day here. DH is on a trip and opted to go to the grocery and buy bananas and yogurt, instead of paying $23.98 for the Hilton buffet breakfast. And no, it wasn't worth $23.98.

Miss Thystle said...

slacks slacks slacks. BAH! You can't make me cry!

I simply can't fathom WHY suitcases won't roll in that much snow. I blame a conspiracy by the skycap mafia.

blairspage said...

OMG.. I hate buying jeans that fit when you try them on and then when you get home and "wear" them more than a couple of hours then they are too damn big! That ALWAYS happens to me. And, the girls at my jeans store that I ALWAYS shop at tell me to buy a size smaller EVERY time and I never listen to them!

I'm thinking at that rate the waiter should of stripped for you! Dang... something! That's ridiculous!

Hugs - Tiffany

kwr221 said...

I could have SWORN I made a comment earlier. Oh, well.

Welcome back!

My word verification: BILIMPA

I ate so much dip that I felt like a big bilimpa.

Or the pierogies were good, but the bilimpa were even better.

Sheree said...

And I thought you'd found another broad and I'd become last week's news.

And for the record, BLIMPA is the reason for the new jeans, which curiously, don't fall off and drag on the ground any more.

Is there NOTHING I can eat thad does't end up on my fricken ass?