Friday Night In Atlanta

It seems that my mother and me have been spending an awful lot of time together lately which is a good thing I guess. After our two consecutive weekend attempts of yard selling together we thought we would each do our own thing this weekend. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I haven't been around much lately because I've been tending to a sick family member. Things were going as smoothly as could be expected when hospital staff decided that a transfer to a bigger hospital was needed, in Atlanta, which is 75 miles away, on a Friday night. I used to go out in Atlanta years ago before I became the MA Fat Woman. I used to be known as the twenty-something chunky gal heretofore known as Thunder Thighs. I used to love going to night clubs and all of that jazz then I realized it was a waste of money. I could buy a six pack, turn up my radio real loud, smoke a pack of cigarettes in 3 hours and get the same effect at home without worrying how I was going to get home from the club. That being said, I don't come to Atlanta very often. It's usually just passing through on my way to Florida. It's not a bad place, the traffic is horrendous and there is always a traffic jam somewhere, day or night. I usually get in the far left lane and go as fast as possible to get the hell out of there. Anyhow, after several hours of negotiating construction sites, Friday night party goers and reversible traffic lanes, we finally made it to the hospital at 1:00 AM. My mom was riding in the ambulance and I was following in the little red Mustang. You know, I almost outran that ambulance. I kept having to put on my brakes, and waiting on them to catch up. I think they saw me pass them one time because all of a sudden, they took off like a shot and I had to floor it to keep up. I was following the ambulance with my hazard lights flashing, we passed 3 cops and not one of them looked our way and we were going 85 in a 55. I guess I have found another way to get through Atlanta traffic--find an ambulance and follow it.