The art of getting to the airport on time
Thankfully yesterday’s festivities were alcohol and smoke free for me. This made it easier to get up before the sun as the bone stabbing annoyance of my cell phone alarm cracked the morning wide open. My flight was at 9:45 and, at the time of booking, this seemed late enough. But, after many discussions and the constant reminder of my experience in JFK a few days earlier, it was agreed that I needed to get to the airport as early as possible.
My only regret as we left was I never did get a picture of those cheeky hummingbirds. Jacque and Gidget drove me to Indian Creek to catch the train to Five Points and then I was off to the airport. The MARTA website was less than helpful in trying to figure out schedules and routes but I’m always pleasantly surprised at the ease of getting around systems such as this that are a fraction of the size of the one in NYC. It was a pleasant enough ride despite the delays in several stations. They were either because of “Traveling students on the train” or “trouble shooting from the train.” It was hard to hear.
Arriving at the airport an hour and a half early allowed me to relax, eat, watch all the TV screens obsessing over Britney Spears (ugh!) and have a very different travel experience. I zipped thru security and once on the plane we took off almost immediately after our long taxiing to the runway. It’s easy to forget how huge this airport is. I shared my aisle with two very young Indian sisters. The youngest was adorable in her excitement over every little detail about flying. The older sister would occasionally apologize but I would give her a reassuring smile. If you have to sit next to children, it is best that they are funny, happy and well behaved.
Now is the usual time to reflect on the trip. The time spent listening to great bands. The warm smiles of new friends. The kind hospitality and love of old friends. This was a fantastic way to spend my birthday. As an added bonus, I was happy to see The Other Sound, not only go off virtually without a hitch, but actually be looked upon by organizers, sponsors and patrons alike as a complete success. My head and heart are filled with pleasant memories that are very different from my last trip to Atlanta in 1994.
I was greeted with such warmth and hospitality that I smile every time I think about it. A very special thanks to Jacque and Gidget for giving me a place to crash and to everyone for making my birthday so extra special this year. Once I get home, the big question will be how do I break the news to my friend Helen that I never got to the Cleremont to see a dancer named Blondie crush beer cans between her boobs? She so wanted me to see the same spectacle she did on her last visit to Atlanta. Oh well, there’s always next time. And judging from the fun I had and the people I met, there will most certainly be a next time.
