I spent last weekend at an art fair in Los Angeles, ogling the latest offerings from galleries around the country, sipping cocktails with our editorial team, and soaking up the southern California sunshine. The trip was a huge success in terms of networking: from roadtripping down there, to staying out way too late, to wandering through the fair, opportunities abounded to bond with my fellow editors and meet new people in the art world.
The trip was less successful from a health standpoint. As much as it makes me want to hide under my desk for the shame of it, I ate Taco Bell. It was just as foul as I remember it being the last time I had it, over ten years ago. (Who knew that a food as simple and delightful as a quesadilla could be so utterly, utterly screwed up?) I clearly should have just ignored the hunger pangs and waited the extra 100 miles until the next grocery store. Or, you know, planned ahead.
There’s no way of getting around the need for junk food while driving late at night, though. In my experience, the most effective way to keep your eyelids from drifting downward is to keep your your blood sugar sky high. (I once drove through the night across Nevada, one pita chip at a time.) Staying awake on the way home from Los Angeles was less iffy, but there was still a veritable flood of chewy, sugary Swedish fish that leaped out of their bag and into my mouth.
Please don’t tell my dentist.