I woke up this morning feeling not quite altogether what I would call good, due to what some might consider excessive drinking yesterday.* I stumbled around my small room for a while trying to orient myself and started dreading getting dressed and prepared to exit my room to find some anti-hangover type mechanism such as breakfast outside. "Get dressed, eat, come back? Or wait till the walls start spinning less? But how will the walls steady if I don't eat? With force of ha ha ha will? What if breakfast ends at 10am and I've missed it? Why can't I just stay here for another long while and then find food? Why did I drink so much? Since I'm having trouble focusing on anything at all before I eat, how will I get dressed? Why doesn't this room have coffee at least?"

In the midst of this muddled-thought jamboree my eyes fell upon a plate of fruit and desserts I had apparently brought with me when I returned to my room last night. It was then that I realized, and said to myself, aloud, "I'm a genius."

* I wonder if I drank more or less than the married dude who kept propositioning me. Jesus, people. We're at a wedding.