This edition of Randomonium comes to you as I enjoy a bowl of Kels’ legendary granola and a cup of Wolfgang Puck decaf. Normally, I wouldn’t drink this junk, but it’s part of my commitment to keep this trip as cheap as possible. I had $7 in my pocket as we drove out of Kansas City and I declared that to be my coffee budget for the next two weeks. As a result, I find myself drinking the rotgut that the hotel provides in the room. Look! Wolfgang Puck! Enjoy the same bad coffee served in airports, right there in the privacy of your hotel room!
We’ve been in Atlanta about 24 hrs, which beats my old record by 22 hrs. Most of my trips to Atlanta have been to places like Gate 25, although I did once eat at The Varsity and quickly filed that under “Stuff I Won’t Do Twice.”
My current impressions of Atlanta are:
- Wow. That’s a lot of dogwood trees.
- Wow. That’s a lot of streets named Peachtree.
- More Wafflehouses per square mile than any place on the planet.
Tomorrow we meet with some folks and talk adoption, as we get ready to roll out some news soon that will stupify you, as my Uncle Sal likes to say. I’m not ready to tell you yet…but it’s large, like Lyle Lovett’s hair.
We borrowed a 12 passenger van from a friend for this trip. Another friend loaned us a trailer for luggage. A third friend loaned me a GPS (ours croaked a few months ago). The van, with 175,000 miles on it, is performing flawlessly and actually getting slightly better mileage than I estimated it would. The trailer is doing great, although you only really notice a trailer when they do horrible. Trailers are a lot like the church sound guy that way.
The GPS, on the other hand, was programmed by someone smoking something that is not available in stores. This evening, we left our hotel to have dinner with friends. I entered their address, hit “GET ME THERE” and waited. The GPS took us out of our hotel parking lot, north a mile, east a mile, south a mile, and yes, west a mile, to within sight of our hotel before turning left again and going further south. That I did not throw it out the window is surely a testimony to the sanctifying power of the Spirit.
Alas, I have much more to write you, but my Wolfgang Puck has run dry. The next post will most likely smell of saltwater.
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