And we're back...

Okay, we'll try not to make this too stream-of-consciousness, but it'll be tough:

First, let's address the city of Atlanta: What's the deal? What happened to sweet tea? Some friends took me out to an otherwise pretty hep little southern restaurant, which resulted in my first-ever exposure to fried green tomatoes. The biscuits were great, the eggs first rate (I'm not sure I'm that excited about "creamy" grits). But sweet tea? Not an option. I would have been completely lost had it not been for the seven sugar packets I dumped into my unsweetened iced tea. Even worse, the "southern" specialties restaurant in the Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport offered no iced tea of any kind. But I made sure to add a few extra sugars in my Mr Pibb, just to be safe.

Okay, moving along past security at Hartsfield, America West Airlines was charged with flying me back to Flagstaff late Thursday. They flew me to Flagstaff -- what we didn't do was land in Flagstaff. After waiting through the 75-minute delay in Phoenix, we took off, flew the 25 minutes to Flagstaff, tried to land twice in the fog, and then flew back to Phoenix. The highlight of this hour-and-40-minute trip to nowhere was when the flight attendant, as we were preparing for our final descent back into Phoenix, launched into his standard spiel, noting that -- if this was our final destination -- we should have a great evening. Considering the facts that we were all on a flight to Flagstaff, and that the plane was about to land in Phoenix, it seemed unlikely that this was anyone's final destination. But it's good to know that the cockpit is not the only place on an airplane you can find "auto-pilot".

And finally, addressing the eight-minute commute to work this morning, this is a message to the person in the late '80s Honda Accord hatchback with the "If You're Not Outraged, You're Not Paying Attention" bumper sticker: I have been paying attention -- to your driving. And I am outraged.