Every six months, we of the VA legal persuasion (legally accredited), descend on some unwitting city is sufficient numbers to accomplish absolutely nothing financially. Sure, the hotel will be filled to the gills but it probably would be anyway with a VFW convention or the like if we weren’t there. The only noticeable financial difference would be how much Bud Light™ was sold at the hotel watering hole that week versus Tanqueray or Johnny Walker.  

Anyway, the choice this spring by our conference committee is a chicken dinner winner. I commend them. The last time we were in San Diego, it was in some out-of-the-way hole in the wall No Tell Motel on the other side of the bridge. If you didn’t arrive in a car or have an Uber app, you weren’t going anywhere for dinner. It would have been perfect for a Chinese-American Women’s Professional Yoga Association getaway as long as you had A Fannie Mae Chocolate Confectioner’s store in the lobby and an endless supply of Dom or Perrier Jouet.

The last time we had a nice place to learn about VA’s transgressions like this was in Orlando. It was a veritable estate with a gated entry and rent-a-cops.  Balmy. Adjacent to Disney World and gazillions of killer restaurants. And warm. Unless it’s about 78 outside, I’m cold.

The Manchester Grand Hyatt is like supersizing a regular hotel and planting it alongside a town rich in military history with  a bonus of building it on the waterfront or close to. I came down in 2013 to give a speech to the Vietnam Dustoff Association. They’d taken over a Hampton Suites right across from the train tracks. We got woke up about three times a night but we did get a pretty good dose of all the waterfront. Imagine my surprise when I entered the below deck hangers of the Aircraft carrier and looked up to see an old O 1 Birddog hanging overhead. Shucks, they even had a Navy Huey Gunship topside all tricked out with quad pigs. on both sides. Sweet.

I was packing my bathing suit after I saw this and Cupcake informed me that was right out. One look at my gut and they’d probably run screaming for the exits. Besides, my pool noodles wouldn’t fit in the suitcase…

Truth be told, I expect more is accomplished at the evening meet-and greets after a day’s book learning than what’s being taught during the day. The main purpose for all that scotch and gin is to lubricate the brain after harvesting those continuing legal education (CLE) credits needed to keep our accreditation status afloat. Well, that and to renew old friendships over a good dinner. 

And, to be fair to all those who hail from the South, I would be remiss if I didn’t concede there are a few Bourbon drinkers among us who have yet to acquire a cultured tongue for the taste of Kingsford charcoal briquets. But there’s hope for them. It’s said one leads by example. I acquired the taste up in Laos because warm beer just didn’t cut it. Occasionally you landed someplace civilized like L 54 (Luang Prabang) where the Air Am hostel had everything- including ice. Granted, the Kaffir limes were those weird ones that took about five to get a  ¼ teaspoon of liquid out of but hey- it was war. We suffered in silence.

So it follows Cupcake and I will be out of the office for about five days. If you have any emergencies, who ya gonna call? Right. Ghostbusters. Or VA’s Dial-A-Prayer 800 number. It may be listed as the Prize Redemption line.