A.G.E's Joint

Will the owner of a white Dodge Caravan, Georgia license plate MPX 9996 please report to the nearest Delta Gate Agent? Repeat, the owner of... He rubbed his ears. Why does it have to be so loud? Every trip here reminds him why he doesn't fly. Besides not being able to afford it, the whole process resembled cattle being lead to slaughter. Blank faces talked to themselves as they flitted between carousels, arms reaching out like lizard tongues grabbing cases and bags at random. They would then flow toward the taxi stands and rental counters, participants in whatever their bosses have commanded. Cogs of commerce sorted like so much produce and shipped for consumption by their customers. Looking up, he scanned the crowd obsessively. After four times you would think they would have found the owner or towed the car by now. The Hartsfield Gestapo was known to be deadly efficient, open citation books ready and waiting for the unwary stopping vehicle. Arriving as a non paying customer m...

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking.  We are on our final approach to Atlanta and Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport.  We’ll be disembarking at gate E-63.  We at Delta Airlines appreciate you flying with us and we hope you will remember us for your travel needs.  Please prepare for landing…” The droning voice faded away. Bill had heard the speech too many times. Mechanically, he shut off his laptop and put it in his case.  He took one last sip from the soda can and gave it to the attendant.  There was weather and the view out the window was completely gray.  The only indication the plane had touched down was a small bump and the high pitched whine of the reversing engines.   It had been a long trip from Gatwick. And now there were three hours to spend in the terminal before connecting  to Louisville. At least he was going through Atlanta. You can actually find your way around there, compared to JFK...