So back to LA for the fun and non-frugality that every decent trip provides. Sitting at the airpot bar and this "gentleman" walks up next to me and says, "So, where are your wines from"? After my noticeably over the top eye roll, the guy orders a merlot...a fucking merlot. Alright then Mondavi, I'm pretty sure you going to be that dude I end up sitting next on my flight. You'll tell me all about the money you have and the places you've been. You'll be that guy who "this one time sat next to Michael Jordan" like one of those commercials on television. It's Southwest fool, MJ rolls solo. GOD. I just want to be there.
Stay up. It's gonna be a good one.
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