I'm not really sure where to start with this. I suppose that the beginning would be the logical place. But what was the beginning?

Maybe it was when I got onto the plane in Louisville, and this one hot chick (who's chair I once stole at Sluttopia) was sitting across the aisle from me.

Small world, as they say.

There was a another hot girl, this one sitting right next to me on the plane. But I couldn't tell how old she was so I didn't drool too much. She had very pretty legs, I couldn't help but notice. I mean, they were right there. Taunting me.

So then we landed in Atlanta. An uneventful flight, just the way I like my flights to be. We taxied to the gate and stopped about 50 feet short of it.

Did I mention that, about when we landed, it started storming like crazy? As in, like a motherfucker?

Well, it did. It was storming so badly that they shut the airport down. No take-offs. No landings. And, most relevant to me, none of those cute little airport gnomes on the tarmac to guide planes into the gates.

So, we sat. For about 45 minutes.

That sucked, by the way.

Welcome to Atlanta.

Not.

After we finally were allowed to dock at the gate, and after I finally got my baggage and my rental car, I drove 40 or so miles to Norcross, where my hotel was.

One interesting thing about driving for two hours in the pouring rain on an unfamiliar freeway amidst a million other cars - it's not as much fun as it seems like it would be. But I eventually found my hotel and checked-in. Then I threw my shit down and went back out into the rain.

I drove around for about three hours, looking for a Taco Mac. That's a chain down there that has, or so I'd heard, good food and great beer selections. Well, I ended up getting hopelessly lost, and I never did find a Taco Mac.

I did, however, find a Krystal, which was almost as good. I hadn't had Krystal since 1998 when I lived in Memphis.

My cheeseburgers were yummy.

My fries were kinda greasy.