Southern comfort

I’m in Atlanta. Last time I was here was a few years ago, when torrential downpours along the east coast dampened a hiking trip and kept pushing us farther and farther south (we ended up in Alabama and it was still raining).

I’m here for a shoot, and I actually had scoped out the hotel to check out the amenities – something I hardly ever do. The pool looked inviting, with cabanas surrounding the deck. Sign me up.

I packed a bathing suit and did most of my work on the plane, so that I would have ample time to bask in the sun.

So here I am again. And again it rains. Atlanta, why do you hate me so?

And my room? It faces the damn pool. And the stupid cabanas. Looks lovely indeed, if not a bit soggy.

So I did the only other sensible thing to do. I ordered room service.