The Honeymooners: Atlanta, I’ll love you forever.
In Atlanta our first order of business was to find our luggage that Delta promised would be there. But Delta lied, ladies and gentleman. After we trusted them, Delta betrayed us. However, I fell instantly in love with Atlanta and with all of Georgia and everyone who lives there. Completely contrary to our NY experience, every single person we talked to was POLITE and SMILED and NICE just to be nice and seemed genuinely interested in helping us out. So if you happen to be a reader from the peach state, let me just say: I love you. A lot. Like, more than I hate New York, I love you.
Anyway, we were assured our luggage was in the dubious “international holding area” mysteriously located “downstairs” and would be put on our flight to the D.R. the next day when we boarded. We settled for 2 Delta overnight care packages which contained a tiny toothbrush, tube of toothpaste, small stick of deodorant just barely this side of opaque, enormous one-size-fits-all Delta t-shirt, and a hairbrush like the kind I used to see little girls using on their barbies. We rented a car (a surprisingly fun-to-ride-in P.T. Cruiser which had omniniftitious* cooling/heating vents on the dashboard that I played with for a full 10 minutes upon getting in the car) and headed to the hotel. As a side note, the hip-hop/rap/R&B radio station in Atlanta plays WAY better music than Denver’s.
I was expecting a motel near the airport: cheap, convenient. What Stephen had actually booked was a room at the Grand Hyatt, downtown Atlanta. They upgraded us to the honeymoon suite for FREE. (Atlanta, Seriously. I love you. All of you.) When we walked in, there was a bottle of champagne resting in a bucket of ice next to two glasses, along with a dish set with giant chocolate dipped strawberries and white chocolate shavings. I melted.
We decided to go to a nice restaurant for dinner but, as we didn’t have our luggage, we didn’t have any clothes to wear except the ones we’d worn all night and all day which looked decent enough for a nice restaurant but were becoming progressively stank. We went anyway, to Atlanta Fish Market, and our waiter sounded like Barry White. He was totally cool just like everyone else in Atlanta. (Atlanta, have I ever told you you’re my hero? You’re everything I would like to be.)
In the morning Stephen goes, “Babe, I love that shirt. You just look so good in it… I think you should wear it again today.” “Yeah?” I responded, “I think I will. It’s my new favorite shirt. And I like those jeans you’ve got. You should wear them again, too.” At this point our clothes were legitimately stank, which prompted Stephen to soak his boxers in the sink and then iron them dry. (“This cleans them how?” I wondered, but Stephen explained that were “wrinkly”. Huh.)
We got to take free breakfast stuffs from the restaurant downstairs in the morning and made our way hazily to the airport in some famous Atlanta traffic. We got completely lost trying to find the rental car place but a sweet girl at the store stayed on the phone with me and helped us find our way. ( I can fly higher than an eagle, Atlanta, for you are the wind beneath my wings…) The morning went without incident and the very beautiful lady at our gate told us she was sure our luggage was already on the plane, but she would double check.
We got on the plane, again with this hope and false sense of security we were fast becoming accustomed to, all excited to FINALLY be tasting that sweet ocean air in a matter of hours. It’s only uphill from here, right?
*omniniftitious: Adj. Possessing the quality of complete niftiness, I.E., Totally Nifty**
**This is in fact not a real word. I made it up in 11th grade during English class and since I went to a small school the English teacher put it on a vocab test as a joke. Please start using it in your regular rotation.