Atlanta.

Upon arriving in Atlanta, I had about 3 hours to kill.  I had promised to call Erik when I landed, but decided to wait until noon his time, hoping he'd be on his lunch break right about then.  The airport in Atlanta is HUGE!!  I was at the B gates and had to get to the E gates, and there was a sign telling me I could walk or take the underground train--to walk was almost a mile!!  And being exhausted and laden with a big ol' backpack, walking was definitely the less attractive option.

They had a super cool display of MLK, Jr. paraphernalia--I had totally forgotten he was from Atlanta!!  Sweet!!  They have his copy (with his notes in the margins) of a book by Gandhi, in addition to his robe he wore as minister at the Ebenezer Baptist Church and other cool things.  It definitely occupied some time.  

People watching is a must in airports, especially if you're in the South.  I watched one little food stand in particular called "Checkers" for at least 15 minutes.  HILARIOUS!!  The lady behind the counter was a young black woman with a major Southern drawl, yelling out, "Step up to the counter, baby, what'll it be?" or "Whatcha havin', baby?"  EVERYONE was "baby."  It was awesome.  The food was greasy and totally unhealthy and delicious, just like Florida.  

I wandered through their food court, where every single table had a vase with long, bright greenery and fresh Gerber Daisies and other flowers--gorgeous (at first I thought I had wandered into an actual restaurant...nope, just the food court)--and settled in to eat lunch and call Erik.  He answered his phone and asked me how my flight was, and I babbled on about how I was freezing the whole time, but sat next to a very interesting man from Alabama who had tried to help me solve the cold problem.  Then I heard Erik take a deep breath.

"Well," he said, "I'm answering phones in the office right now, so I can't really talk about it because I need to be professional, but Dad called earlier this morning to tell me that Grandma died."  I felt horrible.  Apparently she had passed away about an hour after my flight took off.  I could hear him fighting back tears, and he told me he'd call me back a little later on his lunch break.  Oh, how my heart broke.

I called my mom and she immediately asked if she could send flowers (my mom rocks!).  I gave her some hints about how to find the address (since I didn't know it off the top of my head), and we talked about some options for flowers and she said she'd take care of sending them.  I also asked her to please call my lovely boyfriend that evening to make sure he was doing okay.  ACK!!  What a terrible time to be leaving the country and largely out of contact for a couple weeks.  I seriously felt awful (to a large extent, I still do).  My mom and I talked for awhile as I finished my lunch, then with promises that she'd do everything she could for my boy while I was gone, we said our goodbyes and I went in search of a good book for the plane.

As I wandered through the bookstore, I noticed 3 men in Army desert fatigues.  We ended up chatting a bit, only to find out that these three guys were on their way to Iraq.  God bless them!  When I told them I had a cousin who had spent a year over there, the man I was talking with said, "Tell him thank you for us."  I don't know why I found that so touching, but pretty cool.  I then found a Jodi Picoult book (I'm addicted--she's a great author!), and headed for my gate.

I talked with Erik a bit more and made sure he was okay as could be expected, then made a few more phone calls.  I had a hilarious and fantastic conversation with my grandfather (he has Alzheimer's--phone calls are always an adventure!  He's awesome), then boarded my flight to Paris.