Okay, so I'm not actually going to Vegas. I'm going to Henderson, Nevada. Presumably, the Hendersons will all be there, etc. It is the second largest city in Nevada next to Vegas, and is actually right next to Vegas, making the latter seem much larger than it actually is. That is just the boring geographic data. The other part is that it's in the desert.
I forgot to choose my seat on the plane, so I am potentially in a middle seat. I'll order sixteen whiskies and hope for the best. I've become terrible at flying, a regular Joe Schmo. maybe I'll stop at Cinnabon and bring it on the plane in its entirety and then try to eat is as the plane is taking off. Put the seat tray down and everything, recline my seat back and get comfortable.
Okay, I have nothing to report here. I am running around like crazy trying to be prepared for a Russian-themed birthday party that I'll be going to over the weekend. I'll be wearing the below hat, and maybe my KGB jacket, or perhaps my Himalayan. Who knows. I can claim that I am in transit, and with some verisimilitude believe that I should be able to pull it off.
Pull it off. That phrase makes me giggle.
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