Let's debunk a myth. Traveling for business is not the cat's meow. In fact, sometimes, it can be a fat, hairy furball. Allow me this example: Here I am, sitting on the deck of a four-star loft hotel overlooking the 16½-block Gaslamp Quarter. My t-shirt is off because I just ran two miles along the waterfront and my shoeless feet are propped up on the steel bannister. There's a musical breeze coming from the clubs and restaurants below, making the ocean air just that much sweeter. Behind me a Gauguin sunset dips behind the Pacific Ocean. It's 7:20PM and 67 degrees. This business trip sucks.

Seriously. Landing at Lindbergh field, nearly touching the downtown towers with our wingtips, our 757 probably was grinning as much as I was. Ocean, yachts, palm trees, 70-miles of beaches. A Franciscan monk called San Diego "beautiful to behold" when he arrived here in 1769. As a first-timer, I'd even kick that description up a notch.

You think me either a bit delusional or overly ironic. "SUCKS?!? Sitting in earthly paradise SUCKS?!" Yes. Yes it does. Because it is late in the evening and I've just arrived. Tomorrow morning, I have a 7:30AM meeting (indoors, I might add) that lasts until 3:30PM at which time I get back into the Ford Taurus, drive to the airport, get on a plane and leave. I have essentially 2 hours to enjoy my new favourite American city... well, only one hour after I watch tonight's episode of "24"... actually, only 8 minutes after I run and sit here to type this.

This is like going into a chocolate artisan's shop and, after being given a sliver of dark chocolate to lick, being told you can only watch as he wraps together a large, layered chocolate cake, oozing with dark goodness, topped with chocolate-dipped strawberry slices. When he is done with the cake, he escorts you out of his shop and slams the door behind you.

So, we've learned two things: (1) don't ever come on a one-day business trip to San Diego; and (2) move to San Diego someday. It is paradise.