Atlanta Hartsfield: My Own Personal Hell

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My Trip Around the World
Shylie Armon I spent a good part of yesterday evening in the Atlanta Hartsfield airport. Anybody who has known me during past traveling excurions I have taken will know that Atlanta Hartsfield is my least favorite place in the world, and that many, many hours of my life have been sucked down by their endless delay system. So when my flight yesterday was announced on time, you can imagine my surprise.

As I predicted, I had to check my luggage in Melbourne, pick it up in Atlanta, and re-check it there. The dark evil unholy lord that runs Hartsfield managed to make it so that the carousel that I picked my luggage up from, and the point at which I had to deposit it were on completely opposite ends of two separate terminals. I got a great arms workout, schlepping two fifty-pound suitcases, a backpack, and my purse (which probably weighs about 20 lbs as well). Security was ridiculously crowded, but since I had plenty of time, I made it through without a hitch.

Once I got into the terminal, I decided to go sit in the food court for a while before my flight took off. Here is an excerpt from my written journal about some of my observations:

There has been a large population of soldiers milling about Terminal E. I talked to a few of them while sitting in the food court; they are all going to Iraq. It doesn't seem to be a flight of a cohesive unit; instead it is people returning from leave, stragglers, or replacements. They look very young for the most part, and what was ironic to me was that they were eating things like McDonalds and Arbys'...things that are so characteristically American. I couldn't help but think of a condemned man and his last meal...all the pictures you see of the war on the news don't mean anything when you see a 19 year old private sit at the table next to you with a Number 6 from Mickey D's, unable to eat it, his face and conversation belying the fact that his mind is a million miles away.

The rest of my time in the airport passed fairly uneventfully, and off I went on the Air France 747-400. I managed to finagle myself a window seat after the guy at the check-in desk told me that they were completely out. Alas, if I could just manage to get myself a window EXIT seat next time.

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Photos

My carriage awaits
The 747-400 at the gate.

Somewhere over Greenland
I had to sneak this picture out the window, since the French stewardess kept scolding me for opening it.

Comments

[laura]

you know how in those creepy sci-fi movies, there is always some "life giving" force or object or whatever.. well, i'm starting to believe that you might be mine.. because last night.. around 11ish (when you were definitely flying over the atlantic to the dreaded france, i felt myself getting weaker and weaker with each mile that you were flying. well.. it could be the fact that i'm massively pms-ing and that even a picture of barbaro could make me burst into tears, but i thought that my nice aforementioned blurb sounded better.. so yeah... if you by any chance find a time machine to speed up the next nine weeks (hey, it'll get me thru microbio faster too!!) please send it along!) xoxoxo ps- love the pictures out the plane window.. way to stick it to the french ;) ;)

[mommy]

life in travel
hopefully by the time you read this you will be entrenched in Sabta's and getting a normal sleep in a bed. but to be 21 is to take things alot better than 57. Again, your commentary is always interesting, insightful and entertaining, so enjoy your days with Sabta and have a safe and happy time. Mommy

[matt]

Am I the only one who's favorite part of this entire site will be the fact that you actually paid attention to what type of plane you were flying, and not just that it was a 747, but a 747-400. If you get a chance to ride a 777 I'll be officially jealous. To hell with France.

[Ada]

Hey Gorgeous, I was very touched by your entry on the soldiers going to war. The reason why they're probably eating those things probably has to do with the fact that they won't get to eat those things again anywhere from 6-18 months. If they were Army guys especially. It's pretty amazing how young these guys are. And yet, they are so committed to their service and country. It blows my mind everyday how wise they seem, especially when they return from the war. 19 and a veteran of a war. When I was 19, I was at Tulane, and yeah...the Boot, TJ Quill's. Ick.