12/30/2013
After 4 consecutive nights of partying with my friends and family in Casper, my trip begins today. Kind of. I am on a plane from Casper to Denver, and after a short layover, I'll fly to Dallas. Then tomorrow I'll fly to Mexico City for 7 days to meet Neil, aka Tunechi da Cockboii, for New year's. Shenanigans are anticipated.
This'll be my first time back in Dallas/Plano since The Great Layoff, and instead of the usual depressing feelings that accompany leaving my friends and family to go back to work, I'm excited, happy, and craving McDonalds.
I managed to go sledding twice over Christmas break. Never wear steel-toe cowboy boots to go sledding on ice. The result was Greg having to pull me back up the hill. Otherwise, I would get halfway up, only to slide down as if on skis.
Paul TIP: To maximize fun, grab 4 or more people, sit on your sleds and arrange yourselves in an inward facing circle. Link arms and go down the hill. Rinse and repeat. Also, have peppermint schnapps. Obviously.
At the Denver airport, I order my habitual pre-flight McDonald's. I head to the United Club lounge. As the tasty fry odor wafts through the greasy paper bag and into my nostrils, I am informed by the peasant working the counter, that outside food is not permitted inside the lounge. As her beady eyes hungrily follow the movements of my Southwest Chicken sandwich, I understood her TRU intentions. Nice try gypsy woman, but your witchcraft will not work on me.
After wolfing down my valuemeal like a fat-camp kid eating his sorrow, I settle into this anti-Mcdonalds establishment. I attempt to get upgraded to first class, but they are full. Disheartened by the bitter taste of defeat, I sulk down into my seat, cursing the world, as I eat free cookies and drink free beer.
First World Problems are the worst kind of problems, 'cause First World Problems don't stop.
