No, I can’t even afford to take one day off—financially or time management-wise. To me, a bank holiday simply means one less day in which to get X amount of work done. So thanks for the offer, U.S. Government, but I took a pass this year on your kind-but-deceiving offer of relaxing my Labor Day away only to ball up in knots come Tuesday when I arrive back at work a day behind. Instead, I set up shop—Team Hangover central command—in a poolside cabana at Cherry for Red Rock Retreat III. For all the strange looks my laptop and I received, I am today envisioning all those partiers in their little cubicles, sunburned and stressed out. I may be pale by contrast, but nightlife is a labor of love.