This report is going to be so strange that the best way to start would be "I don't think we are in Kansas anymore"; alas, as it involves Saint Louis and Atlanta, neither of which are in The Tornado State, I can't.

To begin with, I flew TLV-ATL in Delta's Biz Class cabin. This, in itself, is an oddity for me as I am well known in the Delta Forum for inhabiting the back of the bus and staying at hotels which have been rejected by their local Board of Health.

The flight was fantastic. It was in a 777-200, I had nobody next to me (in either direction) and the food was better than anything I have experienced in CO's or AF's Biz cabins (on the rare occasions when I got it) and definitely overshadows AZ's Y class cuisine.

Of course, Burger King also out-classes AZ Economy so that is not saying much.

The trip immediately went downhill after arriving in ATL. I made my connection to STL and found myself on an ASA miniplane, which if it had props would have been powered by a rubber band.

Can anything be tinier and more uncomfortable than a CRJ? The answer is "yes" but I wasn't to find that out for another hour or so after landing.

Scoow met me at the airport to give me a ride into town. Well, she almost gave me a ride. Saint Louis was covered with ice and snow so she drove to a train station and took the choo-choo the rest of the way.

While waiting for the train into town to show up, we stood on the freezing outdoor platform and I lit up a cigarette -- and was immediately told by two cops to put it out. Saint Louis, I learned, allows smoking in indoor restaurants but not on outdoor train platforms.

When we arrived at her car, I learned just how luxurious the CRJ is. It was so tiny that my suitcase (normal size) would not fit in the trunk. It also has no back seat, so we drove with the trunk open and my praying that my suitcase wouldn't fall out. Scoow had no such concerns as the 27 bars of Israeli chocolates which I had brought her were safely in my hand luggage.

Lehava, who I was to meet in ATL later in the week, has "More Chocolates for Medallions" as her signature block. Scoow and I felt it would be needlessly cruel for her to learn of this hoard (totaling over six pounds) so I made certain to post it in this thread.

I managed, somehow, to get into the mini-car. I am still not certain how. I did, however, have some choice words for it and it has now been officially dubbed "Torture Car".

But for all that, I had a week in Saint Louis. Just think of the fun, thrills, and excitement that promises! It didn't help that the Mardi Gras parade was snowed out and about the only thing left for me to see was the Arch and U.S. Grant's house.

For the life of me, I can't figure out how the city which the FBI has officially termed the most dangerous one in America can be so boring. Well, perhaps I am exaggerating. It did have a fantastic ice cream parlor (located in the city's highest crime district) and a sign which fascinated me. It it is where Saint Louis County hits the city limits and gives the exact population of the city. It is a painted (not electronic) sign and I still can't figure out if they have somebody run out and re-paint it every time somebody is born or dies.

High spots of the visit: A small meet we had and spending some time with Scoow. Low point of the visit: Discovering that the Arch is silver and has no twin -- making it much less valuable than McDonald's.

From STL, I headed back to ATL. We had a bigger meet there, right in the airport itself, and, as I arrived about 5 hours early for it, aucarol met me (in a pick up truck, which was much more comfortable than Torture Car) and took me to my hotel, where she proceeded to reject all of my lewd advances.

The Meet, itself, was fantastic and was spiced up by four soldiers sitting nearby who got so drunk that they missed their flight. UnderPressure, who had been a JAG officer, had the pleasure of informing them just what the legal penalties are for "missing movement of ship". It seemed to sober them up quite a bit.

The next night, Canarsie, accompanied by the incredibly lovely Mrs. Canarsie and their son, took me to dinner at a great steak house called "Prime". This is where most ATL meets are held, is Lehava's favorite place, and where she had wanted the previous night's meet to be. We decided it would be needlessly cruel for her to learn of this dinner and so, once again, I am making certain to publish it here.

Canarsie had agreed to meet me at the airport at 5:05 pm and showed up some 30 minutes late, giving me the opportunity to notice some interesting things. There is, for example, a sign in front of it, written with incredibly poor grammar and capitalization, informing us:

Notice: The activity conducted from this booth is not licensed or condoned by the City of Atlanta or this airport. Such activity has been held in court to be protected by the first amendment U.S. Constitution by court or order.

There was, however, no booth.

I was also fascinated by the police cars at the airport. They looked like police cars in most other cities, except for the fact that on both their sides and rear they had written, in 6 inch high letters, "VEHICLE FOR HIRE".

They did not say whether or not the rental price includes the cops.