The aiport at ATL is Arkham Asylum with Starbucks and Coca-Cola products.

ATL.


You may not know this, but the flight from Savannah to Atlanta is about as long as it takes to get to cruising altitude.


The planes they use for such puddle-jumps are, in a funny word, dinky.


And crushingly full.


Of infants, toddlers and slightly older smaller people.


I really wanted to see if they could cry and scream the word "NO" in some kind of harmony.  It would've been fun to try.


No, it really wouldn't have been fun to try.


And the standard caveat applies; I never had to deal with the smaller version of children on a regular basis, and I am completely mystified by the ability to do so.


So, since I was feeling a bit cheap because of my slightly negative feelings, I decided to balance the scales a bit.


I helped a young Mother out by carrying her carry-on as she wrestled with her infant child.


A very large infant child from a very small woman.  The physics (what limited physics I remember) boggled my mind (which should come as no surprise).  It was akin to actually putting ten pounds of mud in a five pound bag.  And then releasing it through a spigot.  All at once.


Bless all Mothers.


She was grateful for the help, by the way.


I then went and had lunch, and not only offered half my table to a Grandmother (seating was at a premium) but also bused the table for her.


She was grateful. 


But not grateful enough to actually leave a tip.


Are you listening, Karma?


Okay, three hours here, and then on to MSP.  And then five hours there, and on to Minot, ND.  And then a hundred mile drive back to BIS.