Airport Drunk Me

I'm sagged down in an oversized red leather swivel chair at Gate 53 in Terminal 2 at San Francisco International Airport again, which means I'm mainlining French fries and overpriced Pinot Noir again, because I'm due in Vegas three hours from now and then in New York eight hours after that and I'm not entirely sure when I'll have access to the World Wide Web again so, ugh, cheers. And also, um, goodbye.