i wasn’t all that ready for a trip to atlanta.  oh, i was packed but there was a thunderstorm and i had pulled a muscle and i didn’t have it in my for the two hour flight to atlanta and the half hour drive to visit f2fb friend #198 dale morgan.

but i got to the airport and settled in for the preflight beer, when i heard the one thing that drives flyers nuts:  cancelled.  i prepared myself.

my little audition didn’t work–the airline has a very intriguing view of geography and to their mind, it made a lot of sense for me to wait three hours, fly to miami, wait another three hours and fly into atlanta.  i thought it would be way nicer to just go home, put on my pajamas, have campbell’s soup for dinner and get a good night’s rest.  tomorrow is another day, and i can try again.

but the airline had booked the flights without telling me or either of the ambitious boy scouts with cameras.  we rolled into atlanta at one thirty and made it to the hampton inn by a very reasonable three thirty.  by four thirty i was asleep.  just an eighteen hour journey.

the only problem with growing old is that the power you had as a kid to fall asleep anywhere is atrophied.  i woke up at seven.  but at least i’m in atlanta.  and timmy?  he’s fine!