Taking Liberties with my Liberty

I have a job.
It pays me.
I like that.

It also requires travel from time to time (usually on a monthly basis- give or take), and this past weekend I was forced to travel to Las Vegas- this required severe arm twisting on the part of my superior, since why on earth would I want to be warm and drink in the sun when I could enjoy the relentless drizzle and the muted daylight that weaves its way through the low-lying fog? Who could pass that up?

So I nobly endured this sacrifice- for the greater good of my employer, of course- and packed enough possesions to get me through 2 days of misery in the city of Las Vegas where there is nothing at all to do.

I should note here that 2 days is not my typical travel time. Usually, I'm gone for four days or more, which necessitates more than one change of underwear and at least two pairs of slacks and button up shirts because I will invariably sweat in... THE POINT BEING, I usually carry more luggage than can be safely stowed in the overhead bins, which means I must check it in. And after a long flight where you've had to take 2 Xanax (Xanexes? Xanaxees? Xanaxi?) because you're terrified of flying, but you were seated next to an obese, sweating and cheerfully good-natured lady (which means that you want to throttle them) who insists on carrying on a conversation despite the fact that you are giving monosyllabic replies and deliberately closing your eyes to feign sleep, or pulling out your laptop and saying 'That's really neat, your membership in the DAR, and I had no idea your ancestors founded the town of Really-Small-and-Completely-Irrelevant in the late 18th century, but I really must get back to my work...', the last thing you do is want to go to baggage claim to stand around for 30 minutes waiting to retrieve your carefully packed underwear.

I do believe that would qualify as a 'run-on sentence', that last bit there.

Regardless, as my trip would be no more than two days, I had the bright idea of packing lightly and doing everything as carry-on. After all, if I had to sit next to another Daughter of the American Revolution (DAR, in case you were wondering), at least I know that when the plane landed I could flee quickly. ZERO risk of having to listen to how her great-great-great grand uncle managed to dodge the American Revolution draft by feigning narcolepsy, and then later became one of the founding members of the American Chapter of Philatelists (that's 'stamp collecting', for those of you with naughty minds).

The Chinese food that I've ordered has been delivered. This thread will therefore be continued tomorrow in what will cleverly be titled 'Taking Liberties With My Liberty, Part II'.

Because I'm sure those two readers I have will be anxiously awaiting the newest chapter.