This job of mine

So I'm the associate editor of a neato trade magazine that covers the exciting world of airline food. No but really, it's preety sweet. To say that we only cover airline food is a massive understatement. We write about everything above the wing from interiors to entertainment to amenities and yes, food and beverage. We do the same for other fancy modes of transportation like trains and cruise lines.

My boss sends me all over the place to stay in swanky hotels and rub elbows with people possessing substantial wealth, influence, talent and the ability to consume mass amounts of drink. Not a bad gig. Especially since bars are always open and the dinner menu is typically comprised of things like buffalo steak, foie gras, caviar and all manner of fancy pants stuff I would never get here.

Two weeks ago I took a little jaunt over to Barcelona for a trade show and conference. What a gorgeous city! People party like freakin animals there. I shit you not, if you go to the club at 1am you are an early bird an you'll dance by yourself for 2 hours. My first night I went out for Tapas with top dogs from Bacardi and MillerCoors. Needless to say that sobriety was not an option.

Night two I had a fancy dinner with some executive cruise line chefs, saw some opera singers and went to a private party where me Austin Powers' dad did a photoshoot...grrrrr baby. Grrrrrrr.

Clubbing ensued....

Night three was much of the same. Dinner at a winery. Caviar and duck. Alcohol. Hotel Bar. Clubbing ensued....

Day four was all room service and sweating as my body fought to rid itself of the poison that I had been feeding it for the last several days. In the afternoon I managed to get dressed after showering for the second time and drinking Strong coffee. I bought stuff for my friends from some gypsies at on La Rambla (Barcelona's main drag, to to speak) before cabbing back to the hotel, crawling into bed, and sweating for another 15 hours and half-sleeping until 6am, when I went to the airport.