Complex Numbers

Vegas, baby!

Leaving tomorrow.

At six in the goddamn morning.

My hometown airport being a lot smaller than, say, Richmond's or DC's, there aren't long lines at security, and I don't think they've implemented the nudie scanners. So I figure I can get there around 5.

Which still means leaving home at 4 fucking thirty.

Have I mentioned I'm not a morning person? And tomorrow morning will be three hours longer than usual, because I'll be jumping time zones.

So my solution is to stay up until it's time to leave. My friend is going to drive me to the airport (which makes him, in my book, a GOOD friend, since he's getting up at four to do it), and I figure I can sleep on the planes. Maybe. Unless I get stuck next to some infant - which is a nightmare worse than security checkpoints.

So I've got my stuff together, eliminated contraband such as shampoo and toothpaste from my carrion (vultures have carrion luggage), and stashed a couple hundred in cash that I fully intend to lose at the tables.

Now I just hope they let me on the plane with my trench coat...