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"Biz-con in the Dirty South, yo!"
Have you ever gone on a business trip, gone to a business conference?

I haven't.

It's rare that I have been at the same job for this long (2+ years.) Usually I last about a year and when the time comes for "the Man" to ship me out for some training or networking opportunity, I am already packing my successories trinkets in a box and trying to figure out how to slip that $200 I "borrowed" back into the safe with out anyone noticing.

I've never even been on a Biz-Lunch (Thai special, $9.95 BIZNATCH!)

So this is exciting. I'm going to South Carolina baby. Land of the confederacy.

Since I was a teenager, I have always had an Ego driven fear that I would die before I hit the age of 28. Makes sense, no? Hendrix, Kurt, Jim . . . me. This is also the first time I will step foot on a plain since Sept. 11, the world hates us, we have a goober for a president, and my birthday is next week. This could be goodbye. It's been fun. Tell Ben he can have my pants.

Hopefully I will make it to the conference before I "pass on." Don't they have great night-time events at these things? Scavenger hunts, cheese tastings, wet t-shirt contests. That's what I am really hoping for. A group of 40+ fundraising professionals in Biz-suits and t-shirts. Me and the other two men who will be at this thing pouring pitchers of ice water over some lonely, flabby nubs. "Let's hear it for the Museum of Science!"

My boss asked me if there would be bitches to take me from the hotel to the Airport. She meant busses . . . but secretly I am hoping for both.

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