I was really hoping that this would be more interesting. But here you go, nevertheless.
I wake up at oh my god o'clock on Tuesday to get to the airport. The travel out there was fairly uneventful. The Atlanta airport has smoking lounges, for which I was most grateful, until I got out of them and realized I had to smell like complete awful. We get into Ft. Lauderdale and, after a brief yet spirited debate over whether we should drive the HH3 or the Pontiac SUV, we get to the hotel. The Hard Rock. Most excellent. If there's one thing I love more than travel, it's music history. I had, of course, a sweet ass room. And I've decided that ritzy bathrooms with way too pretentious showers make me almost as happy as travel and music. Especially after a day on an airplane. So it's dinner, drinks, and bed.
Day two. Drive around and visit most of the dealerships in the area. All I remember about that day is the (excuse the overuse of the word) most pretentious mall I've ever seen. Upscale foodcourt with nearly the best salad I've had in my life. I later learned those monsters started at $24 each. Glad someone else paid. I called it a fairly early night that evening, since the day before was a beast. Thanks Denise.
Day three. Quite possibly the best day at, ahem, work I've ever had. From about 9ish to noon we go to the other dealerships, then it's back to the hotel for a bit of down time by the immense and wonderful hotel pool. The tan is maintained through at least the end of October, a good run for the year. Thank you southern Florida.
Day four involved four of the most painful hours in a car I've ever experienced. Florida doesn't have much in the way of scenery along the main interstates. But anyone who has taken their bike out for any amount of time knows that to be true of most states. The rest stop on ramps were fun, and the brakes on the car work just fine, thankyouverymuch. Also, radio down there sucks. They love Nickelback way too much.
The rest of the trip was spent in Daytona, at the massive Rossmeyer compound surrounding the dealership. The fundraiser dinner, I hear, was good, but the party afterwards was killa. This was the introduction of my girl Shel to the trip, the beginning of several late late late nights, and the reason I'm still probably hung over. Managed to find a few dives with great patios and views, as well as an education about what they call Red Tide.
Small annoyances on the travel back home, but ending with dinner and a few beers with a good friend. I missed you guys.
I saw some interesting things, had a really good time for a work trip, but found out a little more about myself. This was, I believe, part of the plan. I need to drink less, smoke less, eat less. None of that is news. I also need to worry less about what I think people are thinking. I will start finding those cool things that I want to do, instead of sitting around wishing I'd done them when I had the chance. I should have learned that lesson while riding through the Black Hills a year ago, but I didn't. But like a really smart guy pointed out to me one time, I need to learn every lesson twice. And, after reading this, I also resolve to remember more, and write like I know I can.
