More and more, these vacations become necessary for me to get away from the ugly behemoth that is Atlanta and spread out across the country. And again as spring dawns, that destination is south Florida, where the palms wave in the breeze and you never need a pair of pants.

As usual, we use the Rushing gift of Planned Spontaneity: A week set up far ahead of time, of where to be and when, but hey, at least the times could vary by an hour or so.

The Schedule

I surely wasn't heading south like the Snowbirds from the North to escape the cold. The day I left it was 76 degrees in Atlanta, while Miami had a high of 82. But, it was the breeze that was golden. Forget the 100% humidity, sweating-just-walking-out-the-door nonsense like in Hotlanta.

Although, one thing that I do like about my hometown is the airport. Hartsfield International is easy to get through, and despite being the busiest in the world in terms of foot traffic, there are never overwhelming crowds. In fact, I got to the airport two hours early for my flight but it only took fifteen minutes to check my bags, where I was able to arrange an earlier flight at 2 p.m. rather than 3:30.

Security took thirty seconds, although I doubt it was because of my "experiment," wearing my CNN ID badge to see if it made a difference. The screeners barely looked at me, let alone pull me aside. I guarantee I get the touchy-feely treatment in Ft. Lauderdale, though.

My advice: fly on Saturday afternoons! From the time my MARTA train pulled into the Airport station until the time I got to the gate after checking my bag and going through security, only 40 minutes elapsed. Of course, it didn't matter as much when the plane wasn't even at the gate by 1:45, so we didn't leave until a little past 2:15. Even though there was no plane outside, clearly visible to all of us in the chairs, they didn't even post a new departure time to note a late flight until 1:45. If anyone's calculating, on leg one of my trip Air Tran has a 0% on-time rate.

Here are the people pulled aside for checks at the gate prior to boarding: Two very blond (and leggy) white girls, a baby boomer white guy with a NY Fire Department cap on, a baby boomer white couple, he balding and she a tall blond. Meanwhile, in just the few minutes I note this occurrence I see three Hispanics, three African-Americans and three Arabs (the woman in a headscarf) board the plane without so much as a second glance. The Politically Correct Airlines, rejoice! I feel safe knowing that the mascara cases of the blond chicks have been thoroughly checked (never underestimate the scourge of those with Scandanavian ancestry - haven't you read "Hagar the Horrible"?).

Whatever. I just enjoyed having an exit row all to myself. And the flight was an uneventful couple of hours, with Dad and Danielle waiting to welcome me in time for dinner.

Speaking of which, we quickly headed to On the Border for some Mexican grub, with a cutie named Brandy as our server. She was from Marietta, a suburb of Atlanta, and she kept the chips and drinks coming as fast and furious as we ate them. She needs to come back to Atlanta and look me up, because she's certainly Buddy List material. Yeah, yeah, "Oh, Jeff, you just want a woman who serves your every need and brings the food." So, what of it? And no, I haven't had a date in a while. I wonder how come?

By the end of the night, I'm probably the only person to go to bed at 9 p.m. on a spring break who wasn't drunk out of their gourd.

Random Florida trivia: No part of the state of Florida is more than 75 miles from Atlantic or Gulf waters.

Some seriously weird dreams woke me up a few times. Here's the one that really had me scratching my head:

I'm in Israel to cover the conflict. Israelis are throwing an elaborate party on top of one cliff, while down below in Palestinian areas their side is a hellhole, and Israeli soldiers are rounding up terrorists. Driving home, amazingly back in America on the highway (hey, it's a dream), I couldn't find a comfy position to sit due to my bad back (sheesh, even in a dream - what happened to fantasies with supermodels?).

Still dreaming, I keep adjusting my seat up and down and forward and back. I think it means my big butt is getting bigger and I can't get comfy, but I'm sure a psychologist will tell me that my life isn't in the 'right place' and my attitude needs adjusting. Bite me, you imaginary shrink.

Continuing, I'm now at work watching the footage from Israel with colleagues, and flirting with a very cute curly-haired brunette, who's very much flirting back. So if anyone knows this cute curly-Q from my dream, tell her my email address is eeyorejeff@yahoo.com. And no, unfortunately she wasn't one of the adorable S Club 7 girls, 'cause she had an American accent. Still, there are others to fantasize about and I'll keep on the lookout.

In real life, Dad and I drive west to Ft. Myers, leaving at 6:30 in the early early morning to get to the City of Palms Park, home of the Red Sox spring training facility. We didn't have tickets, so we got to the booth at 8:30, since standing-room-only tickets go on sale at 9. Luckily for us, though, many people had returned season tickets, so we actually got some very nice box seats on the fourth row of the first base side.

If Fenway Park is God's Playground (and it is heaven blessed), then the Red Sox spring training home at City of Palms Park must be God's Little Acre.

IHOP for breakfast, back to the park at 11:30 to take in the pregame batting practice and check out the facility, then the game started at 1:05.

It's hot, real hot, so hot I saw a cactus holding a sign begging for water. The scoreboard said the temperature was 86 degrees, with only a slight breeze and virtually cloudless sky. Once in awhile an itty-bitty cloud would cover the sun, and I would let out a brief "Praise be the Lord" until the cloud moved away, and I wondered why God punished me so. Later that night, weatherbabe Sharon from the Weather Channel informed me that Ft. Myers actually had a record high of 89 degrees. That's all?

Random Florida trivia: The "Sunshine State" is the state struck most often by lightning. On average, about ten lightning bolts strike each square mile of central Florida each year.

It's St. Patrick's Day, so the mood is an even more festive than usual at the park as the Sox took on Philadelphia. Of course, Philly's citizens have more German ancestors, so we painted Bratwursts green and threw it at them (people at Philly games would take that as a compliment).

There were three shamrocks painted on the infield grass; behind the mound was a four-leaf clover, which probably isn't enough to overcome the Curse of the Bambino. Fans were decked out in plenty of funny big green hats and green beads, as well as buying the special green shamrock Sox shirts and green Sox hats with a shamrock on the back that many look forward to every St. Patrick's Day. Crud, I just realized that I should have bought ten hats to sell on eBay. I have no entrepreneurial spirit, and thus will lavish in middle class mediocrity forever. I also just noticed that a regular ol' spring training program is up to $15 on eBay. Like I said, I'm an idiot, but you knew that already.

The game was a squeaker, a rare American League pitcher's duel. Boston won, 2-0, when Beantown Bombers Jason Varitek and crowd-favorite "Louuuuuu" Merloni hit back-to-back dingers in the fourth inning. Though scores don't matter much in spring training it's still nice to see a win, especially one where the pitchers performed well, giving hope for the Sox this season. Hey, all we've got is hope, so don't go ruining my dreams!

Revealing my Trekkie pedigree: "Each of us hides a secret pain. Share yours with me and gain strength from the sharing." *Said in best Shatner imitation:* "I don't want my pain taken away. I need my pain! Even if it means the Red Sox squashing my hopes by August! But what does God need with a starship? Or a spring training park, for that matter?"

Meanwhile, did I mention that it was hot? At least the game was over quick, in about 2 hours, 15 minutes.

By the sixth inning the Beer Man, John, retires for the day to sit down behind us with a season ticket holder. You know that if you're on a first-name basis with the beer man, and the beer man buys the next round, then perhaps you've supplemented his income a little much. John was a nice guy, a laugher, and gave us the inside scoop on spring training in Ft. Myers, the Red Sox and just being Guys talking Guy things. Good times. Good times.

Random Florida trivia: Juan Ponce de Leon was one of Florida's first tourists, arriving near St. Augustine in 1513. He was killed by Indians in 1521 while attempting to establish a colony near Ft. Myers. Considering how drab the town is, the Indians no longer care enough to kill those who want to settle in Ft. Myers.

After the game we went to Danielle's father, Rusty's, home in Cape Coral, to the west of Ft. Myers near the bay. His better half, Esther, lives with him, along with their dog Susie. We kicked back in their very nice back porch, enclosed by a screen, where Rusty grilled some burgers. He and Esther prepared a nice dinner for us to eat outside at the table, and joining us were Danielle's grandparents whom I hadn't seen since Dad and Danielle's wedding in Sept. '97 in Orlando.

Rusty is a Vietnam vet, who spent a lot of time inland among some of the severe fighting. He has some amazing stories (not glorious in any manner), and his father, Danielle's grandfather, has his own to tell from World War II (for one, he fought in the Battle of the Bulge), but doesn't like talking about it. Understandable, for sure.

Danielle's grandmother is very sweet and a laugh riot (if she was twenty years old I'd be tempted to call her flaky). We had something to talk about, being that she grew up in a Southern Baptist family in Paducah, and I promised to look up her grandfather, a well known and well respected pastor, she says due in large part for his ability to convey the Bible in a simple way.

Meanwhile, the Georgia Bulldogs lose to Southern Illinois in the second round of the NCAA Tournament. While disappointed that the Dawgs blew a 19-point lead, I expected it nonetheless and picked the Salukis to win in my bracket. Does that make me a bad fan?

That night me, Dad and Danielle stayed in a suite at the Courtyard by Marriott in Ft. Myers, about ten minutes from the City of Palms Park, for an easier commute to the stadium.

By the way, did I tell you that it was hot? I guess you could say that this weekend I laid down my 'base' sunburn for the rest of the spring and summer. At the grocery store that evening I decided to prevent a repeat of that afternoon by looking for SPF 300 lotion - not just to protect me, but enough to cover the people around me as well. I settled for Coppertone Sport with an SPF of 48, but those around me know that even 52% is still a lot to cover.