I’m not sure if it was because I’d embarked on some crazy vegan diet shenanigans, whether it was the altitude, my early morning cocktail or if it was due to getting three hours of sleep last night. Whatever it was, it gave me buttercream dreams somewhere over New Mexico.

I woke up after dozing for a short while — a brief slumber which had allowed me to gallivant through a cake-centric version of CandyLand. My dream involved twirling atop a massive chocolate cupcake with a pile of vanilla buttercream frosting on top. Don’t bother to wonder about the feasibility of such twirling, given that the frosting was likely knee-deep in my dream — it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that there was a lot of it. Gobs, in fact.

When I realized what prompted my dream, it sped up my coming to. Nope, there wasn’t an opened tub of Betty Crocker buttercream frosting in front of me on my tray table — it was a fellow passenger who had been enjoying (read: sucking on — loudly) a butterscotch candy. The hard, transparent, golden kind — like the ones out of a bulk bin at the grocery store.

Definitely not as good as frosting.

My insta-sleep was the byproduct of exhaustion paired with the Most. Delicious. Screwdriver. Ever. I’ve never squeezed lemon into mine, but I did today. Holy tastebud rejoicing. Leave it to Virgin America to surprise me yet again.

Tonight I am thankful for making it through my manic Monday to my travel Tuesday, for a strange state of sleep high above the states below, and for a long-awaited, post-vegan-diet cocktail made extra sweet by a squeeze of tart, sour lemon. Such a week of opposites thus far — here’s to the rest of the week full of delightful wedding festivities!