Drunken Bahama Mama For Hire

I am not a religious person, but if I were, this would be my travel prayer, from my mouth to god's ears:

Please don't let me overpack my carry-on bag so it fits in the overhead.
Please don't let there be a lightening storm so that my flight ends up delayed.
Please don't let me forget anything vital, like my passport or my birth control pills.
Please don't let me get sunburnt on the first day.
Please don't let anything go wrong with the hotel reservation.
Please don't let me lose my wallet or any other important things.

But most importantly, please let me come back to a job since my company has just merged with another so I can afford more vacations like this in the future. Please, God! I promise not to say mean things about people or to wear blasphemous t-shirts that say "Jesus is my homeboy" anymore if you just grant me this one wish. Let the job that I dread coming to in the morning, and can't wait to leave at night, still be waiting for my sunkissed body to return. (At least for one more month so I can pay off all the $9 fruity liquor-laced concoctions that I plan on drinking while on a beach in the Bahamas...)