A Mid-Way Post

So there I was....in the Atlanta airport. Actually this is the Hartford-Jackson airport and I am sitting in "Laptop Lane," an internet cafe on the third floor of terminal A. I have two hours until my connecting flight to Indianapolis, but without the bank resources of a Rockefeller, this post will be short ( at $ .65 cents a minute this is like AOL years ago.)

Okay, so here goes, the trip so far. I did manage to get some sleep last night after unexpectedly hurting my back before work. Not working gave me a chance to sleep, albeit uncomfortably with pain and a heating pad. I woke up early and finished packing before racing off to the airport. Someone somewhere has to do a report, study or article about the availability of food in American airports. If they don't, then they should. It's fascinating and horrifying all at once. In New Orleans, I mistakenly ate my brekkie at the ACME Oyster house restaurant. I have made this mistake before, but trust me, this is the last time. Seriously, it's the worst food I have ever eaten, perhaps second, only to the monstrous gastro-intestinal beast that is the restaurant at the other side of the New Orleans airport.

Here in Atlanta (which is a huge huge huge airport if you haven't been here) the choices are much larger including such big chain eateries as "Wall Street Deli," "Dominos," and the favorite of everyone who likes their food spiced to hell and back but still bland as cardboard, "Houlihans." I was appalled by a kiosk called "Sushi and Salad," but I suppose it's not prepared by the surly looking, phone talking black girl who manned the store. If I'm willing to buy sushi from Sav-A-Center (which I have done before) then I shouldn't be so appalled. Somehow a kiosk with no available kitchen in sight and limited refrigeration seems different though and seems to smack of a Fancy Schmanciness that Atlantians seem to effect.

While waiting for my flight I sat next to a small, petite, Asian woman who yammered away the time in a foreign language. While the noise was kind of annoying, who am I to stop someone from speaking their own tongue. What was odd, freaky and suspect, was her outfit. Why do so many Asian women dress like hookers just in from Hanoi? Seriously, this woman's skirt was hair high and a stiff wind would have frostbitten her nethers. For a group of women that seem about the right size to shop at Gap Kids, it must be a gap kids located next to a brothel.

I'm off to forage for food but let me say this first, Atlanta smokes. Yes, I know it burned once, but now it merely smokes. I was so relieved to see smoker stations in the terminals.

I will report later my further adventures as I head northward to wish my momma a Happy Birthday.

Ciao!