Lemme just start by saying – I love the Burbank airport.
It’s easy to get in and out, unlike the HELLSCAPE that is LAX.
The security line is shorter than what you’d find at your average Kroger-Ralph’s-King Sooper-Fred Meyer-One Eyed O’Houlihan’s.
But once you get through, there’s two gates and not much else.
I was taking the Frontier flight to Vegas, which sounds like something out of a Cormac McCarthy novel.
I had a few minutes before the flight, so I decided to partake in an alcoholic beverage.
I sidled up to the only dining option, Guy Fieri’s Bar & Grill, and since I was in a rush, ordered a double mule (and given a vodka choice, gave Goose).
What came in a plastic Bud Light cup was a goddamn mojito that tasted like it was made with Sprite.
The waitress handed me the check. $43.
So $50 with tip.
It’s by far the worst mule of my life, but it got the job done.
All for the price of an actual bottle of Goose.
As I chugged my drink, and headed to the gate just as they called my name, I furtively texted my friend to see if I could write this purchase off.
After all, it’s a travel expense.