Jimi and the ATL

Earlier this week I traveled out to Nashville to help one of our salespeople with a presentation she was giving to a county out in Northwest Georgia. Since I used to sell in that market and I'm familiar with those folks, management thought it would be a good idea for me to tag along. Overall, the trip was great. I always love to spend time with other salespeople and to share my knowledge and experiences with them, and it's great to get an idea of how other people approach the job too.

Both my flights into and out of Nashville went through connecting cities before I could get back to Tampa. On the way out there Monday afternoon, I had to go through Charlotte on U.S. Airways. The Charlotte airport has white, Cracker Barrel-style, wicker rocking chairs all the way through the terminal, just on the outside of the moving sidewalks. It's something that I've yet to see at any other airport, and it's a clear sign that you're in the South. The relaxed, comfortable atmosphere, the free internet, and the open space that a relatively uncrowded airport like Charlotte provides is something that I should have appreciated a little more considering what I had ahead. When I came back from the home of country music, I had to fly Delta. And that meant that, yes, I would have to go through Hartsfield-Jackson, Atlanta's International Airport, also known as the "busiest" airport in the world.

When I used to live in Tallahassee, I would have to go through Atlanta for nearly every single flight that I took. Therefore, I've missed at least two or three flights because I couldn't get from one gate to the other in time to make a connection. There are so many people, so many roller bags, and so many ignorant, wandering sheep in that place that I'm surprised there aren't more incidents that I'm sure there already are. The entire place is a mess of escalators, rude food staff, motorized carts, people standing in aisles, and terminal-transport trains. In a nutshell, it's a madhouse.

If one flight gets delayed at ATL, you can bet your bottom dollar that all the flights are going to be delayed. When I arrived in Nashville about an hour before my 5:05PM flight was scheduled to take off, I saw that my flight and the two before it (also to Atlanta) were delayed because of weather or wind or clouds or other assorted Acts of God in the metro-area. This was fine with me as I had already planned for precisely this scenario. I booked my flight from Nashville to Atlanta so that I'd get there around 6:30PM, then my flight to Tampa didn't leave until 10:50PM. I gave myself a little room to work with. However, as the flight just before mine was boarding, they called all those in the waiting area who were on the next flight (mine), to come to the ticket counter, offering seats on this earlier flight. By this point it was around 5:40PM. I asked the lady at the counter if I could also get an earlier flight to Tampa. She took a look and booked me safely on the 7:00PM flight out of Atlanta, which at first glance seems like a mistake. But no, no, my friend, she knew just as well as I did that one delay means a thousand delays, and that flight didn't end up taking off until 9:35PM.

When I got off the plane in Atlanta, I walked out the terminal to see what I'd expect Mumbai looks like if it were inhabited by the South. People. Every. Where. Immediately, I slipped my iPhone out of my pocket, inserted my head phones, and found the one thing that I knew would get me through the duration of this 1-2 hour madhouse: Jimi Hendrix.

Several years ago, when I was really starting to fill out my music selection. I randomly bought the Greatest Hits CD for Jimi Hendrix. I wasn't too enthralled with the blues or other genres like the blues just yet, but after I listened to that album once, I was. I had heard Jimi songs in the past, and I knew some of his work a little more than others, but this was an education. This was soul, and listening to it all made me sad about the fact that he'll never make music again. For the next two hours, though, he was going to be right there by my side, seeing me through, making sure that the rest of that crazy world I was surrounded by was drowned out by the electric guitars and deep rhythms that carried a generation. It calmed me, made me lose myself in the music, and helped me make it through without so much as a burst of anger.

Therefore, I'm leaving you with the first Jimi Hendrix song that I can remember listening to. It's "Red House," and if you haven't heard it before, then you haven't lived. Enjoy.