Jump to Tuesday night and I'm packing for a trip to Midland, TX and a visit to one of our Federal facilities. Although concerned about the swine flu that is buzzing around just a few hundred miles from this West Texas location, I'm excited for the experience of visiting one of the most pitied men in the World's childhood home location. That's right, George W was raised in this little town I'm staying in, and it is starting to make a whole lot of sense why he has visions of oil rigs dancing through his head. Flash to Wednesday and I'm driving through the desert with three women, two from Careerbuilder and the other my boss, passing as many oil rigs as what in South Florida can only be related to palm trees, and wondering how on earth anyone can live here. The only benefit to inhaling oil like I have for the past 24 hours is that I doubt any disease could survive in my lungs with all of those chemicals swirling around in there.