I’ve mentioned before that I am headed to Florida in a few weeks for a business trip. Did I mention it was to a beach resort, right on the ocean? I was looking forward to an almost completely stress-free journey, albeit with a glaze of business-related boozing and schmoozing brushed sticky-sweet upon the few days I was to be there.
My fault for even thinking that way: I’ve learned today that I am now a speaker at one of the sessions at this particular event. It’s not that I’m especially nervous about it, (in my own microscopic niche I am somewhat of an expert, and I’m no more afraid of public speaking than the average misanthrope), but this means that the entire time I am there I am going to have goddamn speechifying on my brain, instead of thinking about the important things, like what sort of expense-accounted umbrella drink I want delivered to me poolside at the top and bottom of every hour, starting at noon. (”rum-based? tequila-based? hmm, I don’t know. . . how ’bout one of each?”).
