[I'M GOING]

. . . to CHICAGO this Thursday. I'll wake up before the crack of dawn and will get my butt to the airport in order to catch one of the first flights out of this town. After an stopover in Atlanta, I'll take a nap in the airplane and I'll wake up in order to fasten my seat belt and put my chair in the up right position because we're about to land in Chicago, sir.

I'll see my good old friend and his wife and we will drink and eat and drink and drink and eat and then we'll hang out with the 'dudes' and their friends and we'll laugh and talk about the future and the past and the present and we'll walk and snap photos and make memories and we'll eat and drink and party and drink and party and drink and then they'll drive my fucked up ass to the airport next Tuesday and I'll be landing in the Bible Belt at around midnight, then I'll take a short nap and it'll be time to go back to the office and to tell the story of my trip to everybody who wants to hear it.

Unless, of course, like Alanis Morrisette's song says: Mr. Play It Safe [a.k.a. Jean-Francois]/ was afraid to fly/ He packed his suitcase/ and kissed his kids good-bye/ He waited his whole damn life/ to take that flight/

And as the plane crashed down he thought/

'Well isn't this nice...' /