Oh Atlanta

Last week I went back to Atlanta for a deposition. The hotel I stayed at, the Intercontinental, has these door bells outside of each room, which are really loud. The visitors kept me up periodically all night -- they we're probably dealing drugs in the room down the hall from me.


The next morning, I get an email from the partner:

DS: Do you have a copy of that requirements doc?
G-man: Yes, I think so. I can probably print it out downstairs in the business center. Call me and let me know -- room 410, the room right next to the crack den.

Then, I went down to the front desk and checked out:

Desk Clerk: So, did you enjoy your stay with us?
G-man: No, I didn't sleep very well. The folks in the room next door were ringing the bell all night.
Desk Clerk, laughing hysterically: Are you making a metaphor?
G-man: No, it was a literal statement. The metaphor occurred this morning after their guests left.
Desk Clerk, appearing shocked: Oh, I'm really sorry.

P.S. Who sang the title?