I landed in Atlanta and was met by a huge and fearsome looking officer from The United States Department of Homeland and Border Security (Customs, to you and me) who, much to my relief, told me that rather than having to wait in the airport for my connecting flight in 13 hours time, I could leave the airport and spend the day in the city.
With all my luggage (and clothes) in transit I was dressed in my finest beach sandals, shorts, shirt and sunglasses – which was not ideal as the howling wind and blizzard-like conditions quickly reduced me to shivering like one of the vagrants who I shared the train into the city with – thank the Lord I never bought those Speedo's.
I knew absolutely nothing about Atlanta before arriving in the city so randomly chose to visit the aquarium in the morning – which was fantastic – although on first arriving I was so wet and bedraggled that the ticket seller may have thought I was a new species of fish being delivered.
As Atlanta is the birthplace of Coca-Cola, I spent the afternoon at The Coca-Cola Museum – chocked to the rafters with all manner of bottles, memorabilia and advertising posters. My favorite part of the tour was the tasting room where visitors could sample the hundreds of different drinks that The Coca-Cola Company produce from around the world. After ten minutes in there, I was producing belches of such quality that I considered taking a hot-air balloon home across the Atlantic.
Back at the airport, the day finished perfectly as a plane that was supposed to connect with ours was delayed and so we took off with only about 90 of the expected 300 passengers on board. Apologies to the stranded 210 who may not have thought it so perfect.
So that's it, thanks for listening and join me next time for an epic journey with the world's wildest train-spotters through Russia, Siberia, Mongolia and Japan, I'm off to buy an anorak, a notebook and a thermos flask.
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