Don't Ask

Sedona

She's not faking it--she is REALLY this happy to see me...no, really...

Atlanta

I made it to Atlanta (where I am now, typing this on a real keyboard on Sedona's Mac). The plane was a bit late getting in because we had to circle due to another plane stuck on the runway or, as one of the flight attendants put it, "we had to go around one more time for good measure." The flight was pretty uneventful save negotiating an aisle seat (yeah, yeah, I'm not quite there yet) away from a non-English speaking Chinese gentleman who was sitting in my spot. After much pointing at the placard above the seat and then back to my ticket, it was done and I settled in for some successful napping. I caught the train in Atlanta to Lindbergh Station (all trains lead to Lindbergh) and, just as I was calling Sedona to tell her I arrived, her smiling face magically appeared from around a corner. Of all the places I could have disembarked, she picked the correct one. This bodes well for the rest of the journey--good car karma, so to speak. We went to a little bar for dinner, and then drove to Decatur to look for another bar which was closed but, instead, stumbled on a happening place that sold around 500 types of Belgian ales. We talked and laughed a lot and should get along famously for the road part of the trip.

Today we're going to hang out in Atlanta for a bit before setting off for Nashville. More to come as it happens...

The Journey

I've always considered flying a utilitarian act--from here to
there, nothing more. As my friend Nathan says, "an airplane is a big
flying bus." I've never understood those who choose the window seat,
who "ooh and aah" at the clouds, or who compare vehicles on the ground
to insects; "Look Henry, those cars look like ants!" said with such
sticky sweet glee I have to refrain from throwing my empty 1/2" square
peanut wrapper in the direction of the offending voice. No, I prefer the aisle--no amount of enthusiastic offers of Sprite can shake me
from my mission; which is, simply, catch my flight, sit with easy
access to both the lavatory and my carry-on, and get off as soon as
the cheery, robotic voice of the flight attendant announces that it's
safe for me to do so--easy. I'm what you might call "a destination
guy." Today, however, crammed against the window due to circumstances
beyond my control; when the pilot announced the Golden Gate Bridge
would be coming up on the left, I decided to cock my head and look out
the window. The sun was just rising on the horizon, Venus still
brightly shining in the dawn sky--it was, I must admit, GORGEOUS.
This, I've decided is a good lesson for me--especially at the
beginning of a cross-country drive--to pay attention to the journey; I
may just see something spectacular.

Mayhem

The fun starred early this morning as I was selected for something
called "Special Security Screening"--that, said the security agent,
"is what those 3 S's on your boarding pass mean"--and then she said
something about buying a last minute ticket almost guarantees it. SSS
(which sounds very third reichish) consists of being felt up gently by
an older gentleman with a grey mustache and having my belongings, so
carefully packed, dumped out and rifled through haphazardly and then
left for me to repack when I have been deemed sufficiently harmless...
Well, time to board for SF. More to come...

Pre Trip Party

A little get together with the guys before my trip... from left: Nathan,
Pete, Will, Goa, Jeff A., & Jeff P.

Road Trip - Prelude

Last Saturday I was hanging out at home and our friend Peggy was over working on costumes for her dance company's Solstice performance while, at the same time, she was stressing because her oldest daughter Sedona is trying to get home from Atlanta where she moved a few short months ago with her boyfriend (who seemed like a sweet guy but turned out to be a jerk). He moved her out there because he was going to medical school and they were supposedly going to be together forever. So, anyway, said jerk meets someone else (hence his nickname) and tells sweet Sedona that he "wasn't sure" about their relationship before they moved--egads (what a jerky thing to do). So, anyway, now she's brokenhearted and stranded in Georgia (Georgia, for god's sake) with no friends. She decides to move back to Ashland but Peggy can't find anyone to drive with her (because Peggy doesn't want Sedona driving across the country by herself). So Peggy is super stressed and her husband, Don, is super stressed and I'm thinking, "driving across country sounds like fun" and, really, what else do I have to do? So I tell Peggy I'll fly to Atlanta and help Sedona get home. Peggy breaks into tears and says, "really?" and I say, "of course" and we have a good hug and now I'm flying to Atlanta on Thursday. It's a win, win, win, win because , Peggy is happy, Don is happy, Sedona is happy (for now anyway--she hasn't, as yet, spent 12 hours a day in the car with me) and I'm happy because, well, ROAD TRIP! I've decided to post our adventures here AS THEY UNFOLD (or shortly thereafter), so break out the popcorn and stay tuned...