Summertime in Georgia

Summertime in Georgia

Warren Ellis on the joys of international travel and summertime in Atlanta:

Atlanta airport is a hellhole. An hour and a half queuing in
Immigration. That's worse than JFK. Took another half hour after that to
actually get out of the airport. Finally got into the hotel to find
messages from the organisers asking if I'm alive and pleading with me to
light a signal fire if I'm lost and wandering in the outback.

Atlanta is misty and hot: eighty degrees and solid grey. I missed out on
my dinner appointment due to having been standing in eighty degree heat
for ninety minutes wondering if the immigration officer at the end of my line
had died in his booth. So I'm going to make the nice hotel people bring me
beer until I fall asleep.

You don't breathe the summertime air in Atlanta, you drink it.

A teacher once told me that when she dies, she'll probably pass through Atlanta's Hartsfield on the way to heaven or hell.