It's not called fun travel.

Am I the only sour puss who really hates traveling for work? I don't mean to sound like a princess complaining about going to Chicago for a business related weekend... But what the hell, anyone who seriously likes going out of town with people they only see twice a year only to be forced into awkward conversations about babies and fat husbands and when the uncomfortable convos aren't underway we're actually working long hours after I've been working 30 minute days for the past two months is, well, I guess a much better person than me. I'd rather just save the company some money and have a three day web conference. I thought that was what technology is for.
So finally up in the air, I just got my Sierra Mist, but after one sip I can tell it's not diet so I won't drink it. If I'm going to drink calories I expect to get a buzz from it. And of course I don't want to be that paranoid girl complaining about her non diet pop while the large woman next to me is making love to what smells like an Italian meatball club sandwich combination. She had to have brought that from home. The only place I'll send a non diet drink back is Sonic. The fear of drinking a Route 44 non diet Limeade is right up there with burning to death.
Whenever I'm aboard a plane not particularly happy about where I'm going I can't help but daydream I'm actually with the McCallister family going on one of their great vacations. Even though uncle Frank seems like a real ass I always think about how fun it must be to travel with such a big rambunctious group. But no fun family vacation for poor me. My life is so un fair sometimes. I was sure I would have at least figured out how to fly first class by this point in my life. My only hope at this point is that by the good graces of God I'll have my own room.
I fear a snoring roommate wouldn't appreciate me throwing random objects at their face and screaming "shut up!" through out the night as I often have to do when on vacation and sleeping in the same room as my brother.