Thing I learned this week: The Ross Dress for Less in Denver reeks of weed.

I just got back from a trip to Denver and Salt Lake City- and it was yet another one of my stellar planning jobs for business trips. Why is that you say? Oh just the fact that I seem incapable of remembering that just because it is 70 degrees here DOES NOT MEAN IT WILL BE IN DENVER JESUS PACK A JACKET FOR ONCE!!! (second time this has happened)

So, there I was in a Ross on Tuesday night, getting a fleece jacket so I don’t absolutely freeze to death on this trip. (Good thing I did- it snowed in SLC) And it reeked of weed… in the baby section. I don’t know what else I expected. I really don’t.

But I seem to have a real trend going of forgetting important items on business trips. Like the one before this where I got to ride around with the Marriot shuttle driver at 11pm trying to find some contact solution (a gas station didn’t have any, but we finally found a Walgreens I could run into). He was from Jamacia and had been in the US 6 years. When I asked him how he liked it here he seemed terrified to answer but stuttered out an  “It’s GREAT!” Though it was obvious the subtext was: “Oh god what is the right answer here..what the hell!” You’re in Dallas, TX dude, I get it. Back to general platitudes and small talk.

I’ve forgotten toothpaste on trips. Tooth brushes. Often forget a hairbrush. Never seem to remember hair ties. Or socks. ALWAYS forget Q-tips… the list goes on.

But I must tell you NOTHING beats the time I wore my cowboy boots on the plane (they’re a pain to get off to get through security, but needed the space in my carry-on)… and forgot to pack my boot jack. And I of course forgot that feet and ankles swell on planes. I was THIS close to walking down to the front desk and having the kid behind the counter pull my boot off for me later that night. I was stuck in boots for about 20 minutes, furiously hopping around my hotel room trying to get them off. I would have done it too, but I did finally get them off. Can you imagine? I would have just been doing my part to reinforce the national perceptions of Texans as total jackasses.

“Well ‘schuse me there, Buddy- mind helping’ me outta these here shitkickers? I’d me mighty ‘bliged.” *Ptew!*

That last bit was me spitting into a spittoon.

In case that wasn’t clear.