Hooking up with the locals

Arriving in a recently tornado-struck city has a certain ring to it. And when you’re arriving by plane the ringing gets a bit louder. So it was with a special kind of expectation that we made our descent to Atlanta after spending ten mind-numbing hours in a plane (kudos to the flight attendants who did a good job keeping my caffeine-buzz going through the entire flight).

Getting through customs was smooth sailing (it probably helped that I was hiding absolutely nothing), and ninety minutes after we landed, we were sitting in the shuttle from the airport, going downtown. We’ve settled in at a cosy rather anonymous tourist class hotel (they call themselves “Unique” which, in terms of marketing, can be anything in the spectre from topless roaches doing backstrokes in your cereals to an unrequested upgrade)) in Cone street. It’s a lovely place, and at the moment the closest you’ll get to downtown without violating the police lockdown.

Our shopping trip was cut short by the gigantic Westin buildings' inability to hold on to its windows. They were dropping from the skies, and the police decided it was simply too dangerous to let anyone into the vicinity of the buildings. Fair call, and although I can’t be completely sure, I don’t think my insurance will cover me trespassing and being lobotomized by a 2 x3 feet pieces of falling glass.

Two things have been a pleasure getting acquainted with: the people living here and Marta. I’ve often heard of “Southern Hospitality” but must admit that I’m taken back by the level of courtesy that everyone shows a tourist (apparently it’s quite obvious). I’ve never had to look at a sign for more than thirty seconds before a local stopped an asked if I needed help. This has been in the “Five Points” transit station and even in a local mall (which seems to have the size of my hometown). In Lenox Square - the nation sized shopping mall, it took a guard on a Sedgeway below 10 seconds to sneak up on me and help (I really do think Sedgeways would be the Ninjas choice of transportation, being completely quiet and easily masking the overweight of the guard).

But great service nevertheless - but next time gimme a small “Guard incoming”-cough, or you’ll be strapping me onto the hood of the Sedgeway and driving me out of the mall humming “Amaziing Grace”.

Marta is the charming - and very well functioning - shuttle system going to and from Downtown Atlanta. It’s cheap, reliant and very, very clean. The only thing I have a hard time getting is the pricing. 1.75$ for a one way trip and 4$ for a return trip just seems strange. We spent a few minutes discussing wether it was a trap or not, and finally decided on the solution that made the least sense. A polite young man informed us of the “obvious” advantages of the expensive model, and since neither of us could really understand his rhythmic Atlanta accent, we decided to heed his advice (or what we thought it was), and pay up. Oh, and we ended up paying the polite young man as well - seemed the poor fellow had lost his wallet/forgotten his moneclip/[Insert random excuse]. But again, he was awfully helpful.

And so are everybody else. Now I just need the windows to stop falling from the skies, and I’ll be able to get out there and meet them.
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