Changing planes (not underwear) in Atlanta. Smooth, easy, and MUCH better than the last time. For one thing, no one died. That's actually not a joke. Rode a motorcycle through Atlanta once; #neveragain. Changed planes a couple times in Atlanta, which is when I found out my mom passed away. Changing planes, changing attitudes - people get chill, crack jokes, dress down a bit. Ever leave a dairy farm in the dead of winter? Imagine trying to remember whether or not you closed all 1,500 garage doors or shut off all 2,000 ovens. It's all right here. Everyone needs to start somewhere - I'll start with a rum & coke.