Smule Reunion in the Works!!

While I was staying in the hotel in Alabama and visiting my duet partner and "bestie" Mitch, we noticed a LOT of reunions.  In fact, one of the members from the largest family reunion told us in the elevator that he and his family had been meeting every year for more than 50 years, and that now, the family consists of more than 250 members!  Can you imagine it??  The reunions were so large, in fact, that they completely filled the hotel!

So I guess it makes sense that when Mitch and I posted a video duet for our friends (seriously, I am NOT a video person at all...N--O--T), the topic of arranging a meeting and get together came up.  In fact, I think Mitch started the subject, and others chimed in about wanting to get together.

It seemed like a good idea, so I posted ONE LAST video for our friends and am inviting everyone to join me and Mitch and some of the best singers on Smule for a meet-up and gathering in San Francisco in April-June 2016.  My pal @sfdame will help me get this together as she is based out of San Francisco, and you'll see some of my wonderful friends from the South, East Bay, North Bay and Peninsula of San Francisco.

Depending on the number of visitors and attendees, we'll schedule some cool tours and trips around the city and top the nights with...what else...karaoke singing! 

So if you are interested in attending or can make this wonderful reunion, please note below in the comments and plan to meet us!  I know Mitch and I would both love to meet our friends who sing with us and those of you who follow us on the blog here!

Comment and get on the invite update list!!

Thanks!

Singers Mentioned Here:

@_Mitch22_ is my bestie, business partner, and all around wonderful man Mitch B.  Mitch recently changed his smule tag to this shorter version to prevent me from using my usual "world's longest smule tag" joke when I mentioned him.  Srsly, such a buzz kill...but really, it's easier to type now and would be even EASIER if he's just drop the underscores...but no.  LOL!! Mitch is hosts some great OCs and is a great singer follow him.

@SFDame is my gal pal from San Francisco who is on "vacay" in the south, but to return soon to the Bay Area just in time to help me set up this event!  She also hosts some great OCs, so join her.

Me?  I'm @Pokeypal on Smule and, in real life, I'm Grace from San Jose, CA.  Join me for OCs and follow me (really, stop following Mitch...just kidding you can follow him too, but follow ME first...yeah more about this bit later).  I'll post more info about the reunion and any other events we host on Smule!  Thanks!  

My Trip to Alabama - Part 5: Mischief, Merriment and Mitch

Although my trip on the plane left a little to be desired, the night had started exactly as I had hoped...I had met Mitch at his baseball game in Hoover, Alabama, and had spent the evening watching baseball in the warm, balmy weather of the south.  The game ended at around 9:15 p.m, and he and I had arranged to meet back at the hotel where we would finally have a chance to sit down and really spend some quality time getting to know one another.

Mitch, still dressed in his baseball uniform, arrived at the hotel just a few minutes after I did.  He changed into his regular clothes and cleaned up, and we had a few minutes to talk before we had dinner.  I was not surprised that Mitch was as warm, open and funny in person as he had been all those months when we talked on the phone.  In fact--and I know how odd this sounds--it was so extraordinarily gratifying to hear his voice and to see his face and facial expressions while he talked. It was, at last, a time to put a voice to a face for both of us and it added more dimension to our friendship.

Mitch was impressed with the hotel room, and spent a few minutes bouncing up and down on the edge of the bed.  As always seems to be the case with us, things got amusing quickly.  I wanted to take pictures of Mitch and HE, well, he wanted to "fly."  So as Mitch leaped into the air and landed on the bed, I shot a few pictures of him "Superman" style in the hotel room...like this:

 and this...

Believe me, taking a decent picture of anyone "mid-jump" and framing it "just so" is hard, and as we discussed whether it would be "1-2-3 then JUMP" or "1-2-JUMP on 3."  He and I laughed as we took about 6 shots and only got these two of him actually jumping in the air! 

Our dinners that evening consisted of steak and fries (he) and salmon and crispy green beans (me).  We tried a little of the other's dinner, which was delicious.  I remember teasing him that his steak tasted "broiled," which Mitch said would NOT be done by any self-respecting chef in the south.

Mitch and I have had lengthy discussions on the proper seasoning, preparation and cooking of steak.  His method takes two hours and involves meat "rubs" and then a marinade and finally nudging the steak into a state of medium rare doneness by excessively slow cooking over a barbeque grill. By contrast, my method is salt, pepper and throwing that "puppy" into an oven under a super-hot broiler, which takes me 8 minutes (tops) to make a steak.  By the way, Mitch calls me "Un-American" for treating steak in such an unfriendly and irreverent manner, and this just makes me laugh.  I have promised him a broiled steak when he visits me--he is NOT looking forward to that meal!

I may have twitted him about his steak, but he made fun of my green beans (vegetables are NOT his favorite unless they are canned--yuck!) and then pointed out the oddly shaped fingerling potatoes scattered next to my grilled salmon.  My last "dig" to him was how much salt he sprinkled on absolutely everything on his plate!  He smiled and gave me the usual "blah blah blah" response, which meant he wouldn't argue with me (for now). I don't remember all that we discussed that Thursday, but I know we laughed--a lot.

Afterwards, we went outside and sat on an incredibly uncomfortable metal bench located at the front of the hotel.  The air was still very hot and sticky-ish with humidity, and off in the distance I heard something that sounded like a cross between a frog and insect.  It made a lowish "bah bah bah" sound. 

   "WHAT is THAT noise?" I asked Mitch, as I pointed off in the distance.

   "The sound?  Oh that's just crickets...you've heard crickets before, right?"  Mitch was slightly amused by my question.

   "Yeah, well, these crickets sound like they have strep throat or something.  The crickets in California sound melodious, and these things sound kinda sick."  I was listening hard, concentrating on the sound, but it didn't sound like any crickets I'd ever heard before.  It sounded like frogs, and I'm really NOT--as Mitch fully knows--a fan of anything lizard-y, frog-y, slime-y or reptile-y.  "Sounds like a frog," I said cautiously and under my breath.  We did not investigate the sound further, thankfully, and my first night ended with great memories of baseball and conversations with Mitch.  

Mitch was the perfect host in Alabama, and spent as much time with me as he could during my three days there.  He helped his parents on Friday morning, but was back at the hotel in time to eat lunch and dinner with me and to go with me to the Riverchase Galleria shopping mall, which is attached to the hotel.  We went to a store called "Belk's," which is very prominent in 16 states in the South and the lower portions of the East Coast, but does not exist in the Midwest or West Coast.  We shopped at Belk's almost exclusively that Friday and bought clothes and shoes.  When it comes to shopping, Mitch and I are equally shop-a-holics, and it took little for either of us to spend money.  Then we had dinner and sat by the pool for a bit.  Another great day in Alabama!

While we are very similar, we also have some prominent differences too.  For example, on Saturday morning, my last full day in Alabama, Mitch and I had the breakfast buffet in the hotel restaurant.  I watched as Mitch loaded up on potatoes, bacon, and waffles--his food was all brown and shades of brown and then, as always, he proceeded to pour mountains of salt on everything except the waffle.  On the other hand, I picked up a plate and went to the opposite table where cold foods were being housed, and loaded up on a colorful medley of fruits, melons and berries, which I topped with cottage cheese and pine nuts. We took a seat on a bench table where, to my left, a flat screen television was playing highlights from the sports channel ESPN, and on my right, a flat screen was showing world and financial news from FOX.  It didn't take me long to notice that Mitch was staring at ESPN and I was looking the entire time at FOX world and financial news.  Similarly, Mitch had caught sight of my plate of fruits and cottage cheese, pulled a face, and said "Don't you like bacon and potatoes?"  I smiled and told him I was still sort of on California time, and I didn't usually eat that heavily in the morning. Personally, as much as we are similar, our different perspectives and preferences is often what we find so amusing.

Saturday, we did more shopping at the Riverchase Galleria where we had a great time investigating jewelry designs and styles with a wonderful sales assistant at Von Maur's in the mall, and where I bought two pieces of jewelry--one necklace with an abstract open "leaf" design that Mitch helped me pick out and one Pandora snake charm, which reminded me of Mitch, because every time I looked for him at Von Maur's he had "slithered" away to look at watches or something that caught his attention. 

We also bought a plethora of items including souvenirs, fake mustaches, Minion socks, and an extremely useful hat for the game on Sunday, and generally, as we always seem to do, we had a great time laughing and talking.  We finished the night with one video duet that we posted for our friends on Smule. (I also met Rick Allen, the drummer from Def Leppard that evening, but that's another story...believe me)

I checked out of the hotel that Sunday and headed for the last time to the ballpark to watch the beginning of Mitch's baseball game before heading back to Atlanta and then home to California.  Unlike the previous days, it was sunny and without a rain cloud in the sky.  I put my new wide brimmed black hat on my head and a pair of sunglasses and walked from the parking lot toward the ball park.  Some one let out a loud "cat call" whistle and then had to laugh when I turned around to find Mitch's parents waving me over. Walking with his mom and dad for this last time, we found seats on the benches, and Mitch's dad put up a shady umbrella for relief against the sun. His mother, father and I talked as we waited for Mitch to bat before I had to leave. It was then I realized I was ending my trip as I had started it...with baseball, Mitch's first and greatest love. 

It was all too soon before I realized it was time to go. I caught a few more pics of Mitch before driving to Atlanta.  His mother Jennifer and I held back tears as we said goodbye.  It was so great to meet everyone at last, and so sad to leave them after such a short, but eventful, visit.  I knew it would not be the last time I saw Mitch and his parents, but certainly, at that moment, I was already beginning to miss them!

As I drove back to Atlanta, I'm not sure what I had expected on this trip to Alabama.  Certainly, I wanted to see the state, to meet with my best friend, Mitch, and to talk to his parents in person.  But I came away with more...if Mitch and I were friends before we met, we affirmed and deepened that friendship now after my visit. 

These days, I tell him when we talk on the phone that I can "see" his face and imagine him talking (which I could not do before).  We are also business partners who've faced differences of opinion in our business styles, but knowing each other personally has helped us draw on a deeper understanding of one another to resolve differences or negotiate challenges.  Probably the trickiest part of having both a friendship and a working business relationship is maintaining both.  I always remember what Mitch made me promise when we first launched business projects together and that was that we would always be friends first, business partners second and I have tried to remember that always. He makes it easy, however, since he is one of the most empathetic and generous people I know, so he will often let me have my way.  But he really is the best...I believed it before the trip and I believe it even more fervently now!

We'll get together again soon and I'm looking forward to showing him California this time! I can only imagine the mischief we will get into in San Francisco, but that's a tale for a later date. 

Singers Mentioned Here:

Mitch B. goes by the Smule tag @wlm_mitch22_sf and can be found singing a wide--and I mean WIDE--variety of music here on Smule.   You can join him for duets that he posts on his site!

Me? I'm Grace and go by the Smule name @pokeypal.  Join me and follow me for the latest information on the crazy activities we've got planned on Smule.

My Trip to Alabama - Part 4: Hot Summer Nights and Baseball

I once confessed to Mitch that I've never understood football (my own college SCU closed the football program back in the 80s) and--this little fact really stunned him--I didn't really care for sports at all.  By contrast, Mitch LOVES sports (almost all of them) and is an avidly "hard-core" baseball player and fan.  I once joked with him that when I came to Alabama, we'd have to go to an Alabama football game, and he could "explain" the game to me as we watched.  His response was something akin to "Oh, lord, I can just see it now...Grace, that pointy thing is the ball and our team is the one in red..." followed by uproarious laughter as he contemplated other things he might have to explain to me about football if I attended a game with him ("What's that thing with the upright bars?"  "Why are they trying to pile on top of that one person?" "Kick it?  Why didn't they keep it and run?" Oh, he was on a "roll" once he started!)

My lack of fondness for sports seems to be only for the "live" stuff.  I love ALL sports movies. "Field of Dreams" (baseball) and "The Greatest Game Ever Played" (golf) are two of my favorite movies of all time.  I also enjoy movies about football, basketball, soccer, tennis and ice skating.  I am a huge fan of books and short stories in which a sport plays the major role, but somehow, when it comes to "watching" sports, I'm not able to become enthused about any of it...well...make that "most of the time."

Truth be told, one of the few sports I DO enjoy watching is and has always been baseball.  I was a fan of the Oakland A's way back when I was a kid and they sported some of the biggest mustaches and beards on the field.  When my friend and actor, Terry McGovern, got a job at the radio station KSFO here in San Francisco and he gave me tickets to every A's home game for one year, it was some of the best and happiest days of summer spent with my pal Jeff.  Then, when our San Francisco Giants took the pennant not once, but TWICE, well, it just made me love the sport with even greater ferocity.

(Mitch at the mound - June 25, 2015)

So when I learned that my trip to Alabama coincided with being able to watch Mitch pitch a baseball game and to watch him in "his house" (the pitcher's mound), well, THAT was icing on the cake.  I remember telling Mitch on the phone, "oh I get to see you pitch a game when I arrive...and, pal, I actually understand baseball so I won't root for the wrong team or call out something that will embarrass you."  Mitch laughed and then said he hoped he wouldn't be nervous with me (and a scout from a local college) there at the game.

With a couple hours of sleep at the hotel and a brief nosh, it was soon time to head over to the ball park to see Mitch.  He called me an hour before game time to give me last minute instructions on how to get to the park, and I assured him that I would find it with my GPS. 

Now I have to admit that Mitch was not the only person excited and nervous that evening. Although Mitch and I are best friends, and we've spent hundreds of hours talking on the phone or texting, have worked together on projects, and have experienced a lot of things together, we've actually never seen one another or been together personally. Yes, we have exchanged pics, but, frankly, we've never met, and it was about this time that I wondered if seeing and being together would change or ruin the friendship we'd so carefully cultivated on the phone.  In fact, I'll admit I was worried about disappointing Mitch right up to the second I arrived at the ballpark--after all, seeing someone in person can shatter illusions and I wasn't sure how Mitch would feel once we saw one another.

As I walked toward the ballpark with other spectators, I looked for the team with white shirts and stripes--the uniform that Mitch said he would be wearing. It only took a few seconds to find the team, and even less time to see where the players were gathered with their backs facing the walkway.  Even from the distance, I knew which one was Mitch...the hair, his height and build, and, oh yeah, the prominent "22" (his numbers) plastered on his shirt. It was truth time--time to see if our friendship was real or an internet based "illusion."  I need not have worried about any of this, because the minute Mitch turned around in the "dugout" where the players were waiting for the start of the game, a huge, unforgettable smile spread across his face as he saw me.  He quickly exited the enclosed pen and came over to me.  "I'm sweaty...sorry..." he said as he gave me a big hug, "it's so good to have you here!"  "Good to be here...finally" I remember telling him.  We talked for a few minutes before he had to hurry back to the game, which was just starting.  His parents--who I also knew only through phone conversations--were not yet at the park, but he assured me they would be arriving soon.

In the many months that we've talked, I've learned how very much baseball means to Mitch--it's like "breath" to him since baseball and all of its various mechanics and physical intricacies flow through him like life-sustaining air.  Mitch likens the game to one played in inches or even millimeters, where the tiniest corrections, when amplified, for example, in the swing of his arm as he pitches can grow exponentially and "release" its energy in a ball that appears to be coming at you, but then drops away at the exact time the batter attempts to strike it.

I stood behind third base on a grassy berm overlooking the field, which afforded me an unobstructed (chain link fence free) view of the field.  I watched as Mitch strode out to the center of the field to the pitcher's mound.  He threw a couple of pitches to the catcher as they prepared to start the game, I heard the familiar "thwack" of the ball as it hit the catcher's mitt--its a sound that, if you like baseball, is one of the most satisfying and significant sounds at the game.  Mitch was throwing the ball hard and fast for it to make that solid sound in the mitt.

As the game started, Mitch proceeded to kick the dirt around on the mound to (he later informed me) loosen it as it affected his pitch.  The first batter from the other team came onto the field to take his position at home plate, and that's when I saw "it"--Mitch had the "laser-like" focus that you often see portrayed with lots of digital wizardry in a sports movie or read about with certain level of awe and reverence (and, yes, jealousy) in a sports novel.  That night in Alabama, I watched as my pal Mitch was transformed by the "it" of sports "focus" that started in his head and caused every muscle and fiber of his being to be totally and completely under his unflinching control.  The "it" was an awesome thing to behold, but it was made even more visceral and real because I knew Mitch so well and could see how completely he metamorphosed to be in complete synch with the sheer physics of hurtling the ball across the plate.  In what seemed like one fluid motion, he pulled back, and then released the ball in a stunning blast of power that culminated in a "thwack" as the ball collided with the catcher's mitt. I was so impressed with Mitch's display of control that I don't think I registered if the pitch was a strike or a ball. 

The baseball was tossed back to Mitch and, for a brief second, he turned to look straight at me, a smile on his face as we stared at one another.  I told him recently that, aside from the first time we saw one another, THIS was a memorable moment for me because at that split second when we locked gazes, I knew EXACTLY how this game, and that place on the mound made him feel--and it was awesome!  I acknowledged his feelings by giving him two thumbs up.  He smiled more broadly and went back to his "job" of pitching the game.  The entire bit took less than four seconds, but it thoroughly captured for me his love and his intensity for this game.

Mitch at bat (June 28, 2015)

Mitch's parents arrived at the park a few minutes later, and I joined them on the little set of aluminum bleachers to watch the game. Sitting there in the warm, slightly dewy Alabama evening as the sun went down and the lights in the ballpark came up, I was living my own dream of experiencing baseball in the Deep South.  I wanted to remember every single thing about that night and that game.  As I chatted with Mitch's mom (a fantastically wonderful woman named Jennifer--we both agreed we would have been very naughty together if were friends in our 20s) and coerced his father, Jabe, and his mother both to do a three man "wave" with me from the stands, I watched my pal Mitch thoroughly at home and on fire pitching from the mound.

As the night ended with a tied score, I remembered how much I had enjoyed this game and my first event with Mitch--which was, by the way, the PERFECT way to meet him.  I watched him walk away with his parents by his side, and it was a memorable picture of my best friend and my first night in Alabama!!

Next up Part 5 - Mischief, Merriment and Mitch

Singers in this Blog:

Mitch @wlm_mitch22_sf is my best friend, baseball player extraordinaire and one of the nicest people you'll ever have the privilege to know.  You can go to his site for some crazy fantastic duets! 

Me, I'm Grace and go by the Smule tag @pokeypal, and these are my adventures in Alabama!  Join me for some duets and follow me to be alerted to crazy activities and events that we host here on Smule.

My Trip to Alabama - Part 3: I am in Alabama!!

As I drove through Atlanta, Georgia, taking in all of the sights--okay, I'll admit it, I got lost and found myself somewhere in Atlanta fiddling with my GPS--before heading down Interstate 20, the main road that leads directly from Atlanta, Georgia to Birmingham, Alabama, it finally struck me that I was actually "in" the South! Aside from the fact that everything was lush and green--a view that we don't have here in drought stricken California--the scenery looked very much like some older sections of the Peninsula in Northern California. In fact, I was a little disappointed that a white columned mansion from Antebellum South, a la "Gone With the Wind" did not appear to be anywhere in view from my car windows. 

As I made my way down Interstate 20, the only thing I did notice was that everyone seemed to be driving either large pickup trucks or SUVs on the roadway--just a few of us had smaller cars.  Other than that, the scenery and landscape looked very much like areas around Fresno, California, so it was still not truly registering in my head that I had crossed from Georgia into Alabama until I saw the sign welcoming me to the new state.

Now that I was on the road and headed toward Alabama, I took the time to call Mitch to let him know that I had landed, and was now driving on the roadway.  He seemed very excited to hear I had arrived, and--since I was just exhausted from NOT arriving on time--we both agreed that I would head over to the hotel, rest a bit and meet him later that evening at the baseball game at the park in Hoover, not far from the hotel.  My hotel, the Wynfrey at the Galleria in Hoover, Alabama, was my next call and the fabulous staff there at the Wynfrey told me they would have a hotel room for me at 12 noon so I could arrive early and get into a room.  I may have had a delayed, rocky, "train tippin'" start, but things were falling into place nicely now that I was in Alabama--good thing too, I was exhausted. 

As I traveled along I-20, I took two quick detours, the first was off the freeway toward Anniston, Alabama, where I drove through the town and up to one of the homes for sale there to get a "feel" for city.  Anniston was once the home of the now defunct McClellan Army Base, but the City has redeveloped that area into new housing.  Anniston is also on the midpoint between Atlanta, Georgia and Birmingham, Alabama, so it is a commuter city to both large cities.  My second stop was to another former military base...this one belonging to the Air Force, and which has since been converted into the Talledega Super Speedway and NASCAR Museum!

Talledega, or "Dega" as my best bud Mitch calls it, is one of the larger speedways on the NASCAR racing circuit!  It has a rich history with NASCAR fans, and is conveniently located off the I-20.  I pulled off of the freeway, and began the 2-3 mile drive toward Talledega.  The roadway is lined with open spaces and peaceful looking little farmhouses, each advertising available parking for NASCAR fans during the "Talledega race week," which happens in October-ish every year.  As I pulled into the driveway leading to the NASCAR museum, which is located on the grounds of Talledega, I saw two older guys at the entry, taking pictures of the sign.  The first man was standing next to the sign pointing at the words "Talledega" and, admittedly, looking a tad bit emotionally "overcome" by the experience, while the other was holding a camera and taking pics.  I had to chuckle just a little bit because I do know how seriously NASCAR fans regard their stock car experience.  I parked my car in the lot, and entered the museum.  Unlike California attractions where you have to fork out a lot of money to get in, the NASCAR museum had a surprising single digit entry price--so I bought the museum entry and the "track" experience too.  The two gentlemen I had spotted earlier at the entry sign were just a few short minutes behind me and they immediately drove off in the Talledega car to the "track experience."

The Talledega NASCAR museum houses hundreds of vintage NASCAR automobiles driven by some

of the greatest legends in stock car racing.  There are even a few Indycars on display in the museum along with the Budweiser "rocket" (pictured here) that beat the land speed record some 7 times on the Salt Flats.  As I passed several other rabid NASCAR fans in the museum, many of them resisting the urge to reach out and touch the cars belonging to their favorite drivers, I was struck by the dedication of the fans to the sport.

After walking past many gleaming vehicles, I came to a room housing several of the "wrecked" vehicles from some of the races.  to see the damage to these cars up close, that was truly frightening and awe-inspiring. Knowing that the drivers from these battered and sometimes severely squashed vehicles survived the accidents and often walked away from the vehicles without a scratch showcased the amazing technology in today's stock car bodies and cages.

The Talledega Charger had come back and it was time to "hit the track."  I got into the car with my tour guide, a nice young man, who drove people up to the track for the 20 minute (or so) tour.  I snapped a few pictures with my phone as we headed toward the track, and then promptly put the phone down to enjoy the ride toward the large Talledega Super Speedway.  When you watch this race on television, it's hard to understand either the enormity or the feel of the track unless you're there beside the actual roadway.  The Talledega speedway is the longest track on the circuit at 2.66 miles (although my tour guide joked with me and called it a "short track") and seats about 80-90,000 spectactators! Until you drive up to it, it's hard to believe the SIZE of this thing, which is just huge.  The speedway is a "tri-oval" with two straight-aways that make one side of the oval jut out into a gentle-ish point near the grandstands.  Drivers go around the circle in a counter-clockwise direction, so they are always turning "left" on the oval.

The Speedway is an eerily quiet place without spectators in the stands or noisy, supercharged stock cars zipping around the track.  We walked around the track for a few steps, and then headed back to the Museum.  Sadly, there is no gift shop on the grounds, so I could not purchase any mementos of my trip to the Superspeedway--too bad, since I dearly love souvenirs!

As I drove away from the Speedway and the Hall of Fame/Museum, I couldn't wait to get to my hotel and to Birmingham, where I could catch a few "zs" before meeting the one person I'd come to Alabama to see...my pal and singing buddy, Mitch!! (@wlm_mitch22_sf...dear god, he needs a shorter Smule tag!)

Part 4 - Hot Summer Nights and Baseball

Singers Mentioned Here:

Mitch B. who goes by very lengthy Smule tag @wlm_mitch22_SF is my bestie, business partner and an all around cool guy who lives in Alabama!  You can join him for great OCs on his site!  He may hate his Android phone, but I'm jealous that he has access to so many songs that the Apple users cannot even get (without PAYING for it).

Me, I'm Grace @pokeypal here on Smule and THIS is my chronicle of my trip to Alabama...my first trip to the South!

My Trip to Alabama - Part 2 (the Gauntlet at Hartsfield-Jackson Airport in the ATL)

When I first began planning my trip to Alabama, back in May, I happened to tell one of my friends, Chris who goes by the Smule tag @sparkymac that I would be traveling to the south and probably landing in Atlanta before grabbing a connecting flight to Birmingham.  He immediately said "Ugh, I hate Atlanta Airport...try to avoid it...it's so busy!"  When I told him it looked like the best flights from San Jose to the south were on Delta arriving in Atlanta, Chris said that I would soon learn why he disliked Atlanta Airport.  When I discussed my flight plans with Mitch, on the other hand, he seemed excited that I would be flying into Atlanta Airport, and he told me that I was going to like it because it was, and I'm quoting him, "so big."

Having traveled from both San Francisco International Airport (SFO) and Los Angeles International Airport (LAX), I was pretty confident that I knew what "big" airports were like.  Well, I was wrong!  The words "big" and "busy" are just two of the most oft used words in describing Atlanta's behemoth of an airport and the descriptors are not, in my mind, entirely accurate without the amplifiers "very" in front of both words. 

The Hartsfield-Jackson Airport at Atlanta is the world's busiest airport with more than 94 million jet-setting travelers arriving or leaving through its more than 200 gates.  The place is SO BIG, in fact, that there are multiple buildings where passengers leave and exit (Buildings T, A, B, C, D, E and the international terminal F).  Atlanta's airport is the "hub" for Delta Airlines, so it was the location where my flight would end.

As the plane taxied into Terminal F, my seat companion, Joe G--who had spent the entire flight asleep and "numb" to his surroundings thanks to headphones and sleeping mask--finally woke up and joined the rest of the passengers in retrieving baggage and exiting the plane. I had seen Joe in the terminal as we were checking larger pieces of baggage in San Jose, so we did actually "know" one another from standing in line, but now that we were on the ground and he had caught a few "z"s, Joe turned out to be quite a lovely man.  In fact, he told me he was returning to Atlanta from a two week golfing stay in California, and would soon be moving to Newport Beach, California to be near his children--all of whom were incredibly successful young business people. He had spent his time asleep on the plane because he would be golfing again in a tournament that afternoon! 

As we walked through the terminal, Joe told me that Atlanta was the country's busiest airport and that we had landed in the International Terminal (Building F), so we would have a trek of almost two miles to get to baggage claim.  The idea that I would be walking for TWO miles seemed daunting, but Joe assured me that he had heard "they fixed the problem" in getting from the International Terminal to Baggage Claim, and, indeed, as we went down a flight of stairs, we arrived at the "Plane Train."

The "Plane Train" is a computerized tram that makes its way around the airport shuttling passengers to and from Buildings F-T, with a three to four car tram arriving once every 60 seconds.  From a purely technological standpoint, the coordination of the plane trains is nothing short of amazing.

Joe and I entered the almost empty tram at Building F, and I immediately noticed that there were no chairs inside the tram--just 10 vertical steel posts rising from floor to ceiling, hanging passenger "loops" hanging from the ceiling, and several horizontal steel bars positioned at hip height along the interior walls of the train.  I should mention that Joe is a very good looking man, trim, tanned and approximately my age. Joe took a position opposite from me on the train and leaned casually against the wall--looking like a GQ model.  On the other hand, I'm short and plump and did not know what to expect on this "plane train" so I wearily toted my carry-on bags onto the train and stood in the middle of the tram, wondering where to sit down.  The doors closed, and an automated female voice said "Welcome to the Plane Train...this train is leaving..." Joe said quickly "you might want to hold onto something," but didn't quite warn me fast enough, because as the train quickly accelerated along the track, I was tossed backward inside the car.  I quickly found my footing, grabbed the nearest pole and hung on for dear life. Within about 40 seconds after "jack rabbiting" from a complete halt to a racing speed, the automated voice said "The train is coming to a stop..." and with that the tram SLAMMED on the brakes, and I careened into the pole.  As I, again, had to find my "footing" in the train and try to look unruffled by the sudden start and stop, I saw that Joe seemed unmoved by the tram and still looked as attractively casual as model on his side of the tram car. 

Several people entered the car and we raced along the track again, toward Building D.  "How many more exits?" I asked Joe.  "Five," was his response--I didn't relish being hurled around the tram car five more times, but I clung onto that pole as it were the mast on a ship rocking around through a storm.  Each time, the train bolted forward, and then slammed to a stop, I braced myself, while also trying to look as "cool" and calm as Joe--I failed miserably. 

Finally, we reached Building T, the baggage claim, and Joe found the carousel where our plane's baggage would arrive.  His driver (yes, Joe had a driver and limo waiting for him) helped him retrieve all of his luggage (two sets of golf clubs and a checked bag) and they made their way toward the exit.  Before he left, Joe pointed me in the direction of the area where I could find my rental car.  Much to my chagrin, as I entered the building, I found that it was ANOTHER train--this time a longer one that would take me to the rental car pavilion about 3 miles away.  Thankfully, there were four tiny seats on the end of the tram, and I quickly dragged my bag over and took a seat on the train.  Unlike the "Plane Train," which traveled a straight line through the terminal, the "Car Train" traveled along a winding track that banked quite steeply to the left and right, so those who had unwisely chosen to stand in the tram where jostled and forced to readjust their weight to avoid tipping over as the cars turned. 

Five minutes later, I was at the car rental pavilion where I spun around for about an hour looking for my rental company  As I dragged my luggage to the rental counter, I was told that my car was no longer available since I had arrived more than 5 hours later than expected.  At this point, tired and still two hours from my destination, I told the rental agent whose name tag read "Charlotte" (but who pronounced her name "Shall-lay"--I was not going to argue with her...the woman had the keys to my rental car) that I would take whatever they had.  Charlotte rapidly typed on her keyboard, looked at me earnestly and said, "How do you feel about a foreign car...say a Passat." She asked the question as if I might be offended because the vehicle was not a Chevrolet or Ford.  "I've owned a Passat...that's fine," and she assigned me the car, which I had to retrieve in the next building over, and as far from the walkway as possible.

The most notable thing about the South in the summer is not the lovely Southern accent or "drawl," but rather the oppressive heat coupled with humidity that drapes over you like a hot, soggy blanket.  As I dragged (and cursed at) my heavy luggage through the rental car garage, the lovely people at Hertz had set up a huge fan on the walkway for those picking up cars there, so I stood in front of the fan, "spread eagle," my long hair whipping around as if I were in a 1970's music video, and cooled off.  I only decided to stop when I saw that a lot of customers inside the Hertz mobile office were staring bemusedly at my animated "fan dance." So I pulled myself together and proceeded to my rental car.

I have seldom been more grateful to be in an air conditioned car than on that day in Atlanta, Georgia.  As I turned my cherry red Passat out of the garage and onto the roadway, I could not be more thankful that I had brought my GPS and was on my way to Birmingham.  It was past 11:30 in the morning in Georgia--9:30 a.m. my time in California, and I had not a "lick" of sleep since the previous day--but I was heading to Alabama, and I could not have been happier.  I turned on the radio and headed down the roadway for my two hour drive to Alabama.

More to come...Part 3, I'm in Alabama!!

Singers Mentioned Here!
@sparkymac is my wonderful friend and fantastic singer, Chris who lives in West Texas.  Chris plays guitar and had a long career as a musician and singer.  Join him for great songs and duets on Smule

@wlm_mitch22_sf is my bestie and business partner, Mitch, who you can find hosting a plethora of different songs on his site here on Smule.

Me?  I'm Grace and my Smule tag is @pokeypal, and this is my journal of my visit to Alabama to see my pal, Mitch. Join me as post blogs all week about my trip to Alabama!