I leave tomorrow for a business trip to Atlanta. Let me first preamble with the fact that I love to travel, but I don't like traveling for business. It seems all glamorous and stuff, and one would think that I could use the company resources to see old friends and take time to enjoy a bit of my surroundings, but inevitably, I know I'll be working non-stop. For three nights and four days. I like my house, my bed, and my family. So, I guess I'm becoming an old, set-in-my-ways kind of gal, but yeah, I'm not a fan of the business travel.
I'm leaving for the place in which I grew up...the quaint little southern city that I spent my fun/formative years, as well as my divorce/pain years, giving me a nice dichotomy of love it/hate it feelings. Atlanta is WAY different now than it was when I was an 8-year old kid. I lived there before the superhighways and the traffic that rivals L.A. I lived there when people seemed to be a bit more laid back and the smog wasn't quite as prevalent. People still had lovely southern accents and the Yanks hadn't yet taken over. But by the time I left, it was just another pretentious city full of too many people living way beyond their means, an overabundance of mini-malls, and poor air quality, really. Still a great place to visit to shop, eat, and bar-hop of course, but I knew I'd probably never live there again by choice when I made my life-changing trek north a little less than 5 years ago.
I'm trying to be positive about my trip, even though I'm gripping myself for a week of being a pee-on at the hands of a very needy client. The client's always right...the client's always right. I'll keep telling myself that and pretending that I'll look like Victoria Beckham when I get off the plane. Ridiculously flawless.
