At some point in everyone's life, we have to fly through and experience Atlanta Hartsfield International Airport.

I'd love to believe that everyone's had a great experience with it. That no one had tight connections in which their connecting gate was eight million miles away, or that the weather didn't shut the whole mess down. If that did happen, at least you have a good story about it. 

Fortunately, I get to spend a great deal of time there. I'm really okay with it, because Atlanta also happens to be Coca Cola's headquarters, and you've not experienced anything happy in your life until you've gotten a drink from the touch screen soda dispensers


Sometimes I linger by the machine, just so I can help people understand it better. And because I want to live vicariously through them experiencing it for the first time.

I think this works out well, because I am doing Coke a favor as well as the airline. We serve Coke on the plane, so I think it's all great publicity. It's my pleasure. Plus, when I am scheduled to sit there for four hours at a time, it's really the little things that make for a happy sit.

Sometimes I get some food and sit in the flight attendant lounge. One thing that should be understood about flight attendant lounges is that they are typically very deep below the earth, and are very similar to an ant colony. At any given time, there are hundreds of us in uniforms finding anywhere to lay down, eat food that isn't from the plane, or vamp our schedules on the computers. We can also carry about fifty times our body weight on our backs. That's why we're so good at putting luggage in the overhead bins.

Okay, we can't really do that. But ants can. I was going with a theme.

On more than one occasion, weather has wreaked havoc on my schedule and I end up staying in Atlanta for substantial amounts of time. No complaints! There's adventure to be had everywhere. You just have to be up for it.

Just as fun would have it, I ended up with a long layover in Atlanta on the same day as another friend of mine from training. It was a Saturday afternoon and our hotel was in the heart of downtown. Since there are so many 'oh, someone was shot at that hotel last week' moments in Atlanta, it's always a great idea to have an adventure buddy.

Erica and I went out in search for an iced coffee for my decaffeinated blood stream. And when we turned the corner, it happened.

We walked into the middle of a Harley Davidson festival.

If there was only one person in the world to trust making a barbecue sandwich for me, it would most certainly be this man.


Not pictured is a woman with a beautifully vibrant scarf wrapped around her hair, a fanny pack around her waist, and a very serious voice for opera. 

She stood by a parking meter and sang. For a couple of hours. Without stopping.

We know it was for a couple of hours, because that's about how long we stood in line waiting for our barbecue. 

Thanks, Atlanta.