To Burbank and Back

I flew in from North Carolina the day before and got caught up on a few things. For one, I played in the Wednesday night Negreanu Open and caught up on some e-mails, hit 200 golf balls, watched the tube, and before I knew it I had to try and get some sleep for my 6:00am wake up call. After watching the season finale of The Surreal Life I looked at the clock and it was almost 2:00am. I slept awkwardly, and at about 5:00am I felt like I had to puke. Luckily, that was a false alarm and I slept for another hour. I didn’t have to pack a bag since I’d only be leaving town for the afternoon. I threw on an FCP dress shirt and some pinstripe dress pants and headed to the airport, armed with only a few issues of The Hockey News. My flight was scheduled to leave at 8:35am and I didn’t get to the airport until 8:00am. Normally, that means you miss your flight, but with no bags to check and my boarding pass in hand, I went straight to the security gate and made it there during the boarding process. I was picked up at the Burbank airport- my favorite airport in the world- and we headed to a studio about ten minutes from the airport. When I got there, Brian Fidler, my prot

 
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