Thoughts regarding my trip from Denver to Atlanta:
- Whoever the hell thought that folks traveling on the Monday after Thanksgiving was a good idea was, ah, nuts. There was a 15-20 minute wait at both the north and south security checkpoints, among other delays.
- The Return of Dave Hill, International Man of Mystery. Yes, my approaching the Delta ticket counter triggered Major Alarums … or, at least, my reservation raised the previously mentioned Evil Terrorist Warnings alert. Alas, it being the Monday after thanksgiving, it took about 10 minutes of sitting on the phone for Joe Delta to determine that I was, in fact, the Good Twin.
- My rumored reputation as an Evil Terrorist sort was confirmed by the X-ray. “Excuse me, I need to inspect your suitcase.” Um … okay.
Turns out I had grabbed a bathroom tool kit before I headed off to the UK. No prob, since I was checking my suitcase. But this trip I was carrying my suitcase. And so the X-ray machine noticed …
… sharp-ended tweezers …
… pointy nail file …
… wicked nail clippers …
… a couple of mysterious nail care thangs …
… aha! Little nail scissors, with blades a good half-inch long!
“No, I don’t want to mail them. Go ahead and keep them. My bad.”
- I managed to arrive at the airport with $2 in cash (well, and £15). Rrg. Want lunch. McD’s is no-credit-cards. Rrg. The frelling ATM in Concourse C (crickets chirping) is out of service.
Rrg.
So, off to the Cantina, which takes plastic. But, as a result, I ended up on this trip with next-to-zero cash …
- On the bright side, Delta has a very good in-flight magazine.
On the down side, they charge money for everything (from headphones to meals). They also have a safety video featuring Zombie Woman and Zombie Child (given their reactions to the oxygen masks dropping in front of them). They also run a second safety video, in Spanish (but without Zombie Woman and Child) after the first.
They also announce an endless array of gate locations, about ten minutes before arriving in Atlanta, and over the last four minutes of the TV show running on the screen. Clever.
- Okay, I am a control freak. I like having control over circumstances. Travel to strange places stresses me, but that’s okay, because I trust my ability to find my way, because I print out maps in advance, because I trust myself to figure it out.
Bold, brave, loner. That’s me.
But that wasn’t the scenario here. We’re trying to save travel costs, and I was in charge of the project, so I had tried to coordinate the travel and car rentals here in Atlanta. But the office is on the opposite side of the city, and all the recommendations were for folks to take the MARTA and then a cab from there to the hotel (which everyone was supposed to be in the same one of).
I’d been going to rent a mini-van to take along several folks, and sent out schedules and coordination e-mails and cool stuff like that. Not my favorite thing, mind you. I hate car pooling. I hate being in charge of a car pool. I hate meeting with people at a strange place. I hate being the first one at a rendezvous, standing there, wondering if I was in the right place …
The consensus — once those folk who actually were following the plan actually followed up — was that we all take the MARTA. Oooookay.
Of course, being cashless, it meant that someone needed to pay for the MARTA tokens. And the taxi. And the taxis
Rrg.
- Oh, did I mention that my laptop screen wasn’t working when I arrived at the hotel?
- And then, of course, being in the hotel, it turned out that, despite the recommendations we got from the office, there isn’t someplace to eat within walking distance of the Hampton Inn. Swell. But the rest of the group (half of which, it seems, ended up at a different hotel) decided that, hey, they were just going to have a few beers down in (their) bar.
Of a mercy, someone who was at the hotel had actually driven into town, so I was able to get a car and go off to dinner with the other person who wanted to get some actual dinner to eat. Which meant eating at the bar at a neighboring restaurant at 10 p.m.
*sigh*
- Lest this all sound like a horrific trip, the actual meetings went pretty well today. Which, for a trip where I had very little idea beyond the most general what the actual discussion contents would be, is not too shabby.
- We’d talked about going to the yummy Fogo de Chão (been to the one in Houston and would return in a heartbeat) for dinner, but instead went to the not-quite-as-yummy-but-still-fun-and-tasty Tu Tu Tango, a tapas place that not only has an Atlanta location, but also one in Orange County, which may make it a fun place to go to during the holidays.
- I am definitely ready to be home. Too much travel, for me and Margie both. Soon …33 view(s)
Ah…
Ok…
I went to a place in Amsterdam that was a lot like Fogo de chao.
You really need to incorporate your “DH-IMoM” adventures into IDC. Some sort of little visual for Lou to notice about the same guy getting hasseled in every airport we go through.
Does’t your hotel have a shuttle to and fron the airport? I remember during the “great-freaknik-evac of ’88” that there was a shuttle service that went around to all of the hotels…and that they took plastic.
No, no such shuttle. The Perimter Mall/Dunwoody area is on the opposite side of the Greater Atlanta Metropolitan Area from the airport. At most, they might have had a shuttle to/from the MARTA station, which everyone seems to use (the office park, it turns out, had one).
Fogo de Chao rocks. Rodizios used to be a lot like it, in the same way that Denny’s is like the Flagstaff Inn.