There are two absolutes that apply to all journalists, whether they work at In Touch or the the Economist: 1) They like to drink, and 2) They like free stuff. Which is what makes the press junket one of the most coveted assignments around. The premise of the press junket simple: A company/service provider looking for exposure ("press") invites a bunch of journalists ("journalists") to partake, free of charge, in whatever product they are hawking or service they are providing. There is no signed contract between the company/service provider and the journalist, but the idea is that the journalist, having had an enjoyable time out on the town on the company/service provider's dime, will return home and feel inspired to write a story about just how enjoyable/beneficial/awesome the company/service is.

If you work at the New York Times or some other such bastion of journalistic integrity, company policy expressly forbids you you from partaking in this sort of ethically dubious behavior. (Getting outed on a junket can be awkward no matter where you work.) But if you work at a less savory institution, the fact of the matter is you probably go on junkets, which is how you (the reader) end up reading about how JOE PANTOLIANO was hanging out at the MAXIM BUNGALOWS in the DOMINICAN REPUBLIC in the New York Daily News or whatever.

If you work at Radar, your editor, feeling generous, might even encourage you to go on a junket to Las Vegas sponsored by VIRGIN AMERICA and HBO'S ENTOURAGE (starting SUNDAY!) to write about the peculiar experience that is a press junket. This is how it will play out:

Your cab driver will drop you off at a private airplane hangar on a tarmac lot of JFK airport. You will be greeted by a phalanx of models in black cocktails dresses holding platters of champagne flutes. They will smile at you and encourage you to take a drink. One of them will take your bag. (Your comfort is important.) At one end of the hangar will be a large VIRGIN AMERICA commercial jet with the word ENTOURAGE painted on it. Surrounding the plane will be a series of makeshift bars—really tables with white cloths on them—behind which bartenders dressed in black will dole out more champagne and cocktails. There will be a mixture of advertising, marketing, and press people systematically getting drunk on said champagne and cocktails, downing one after another in order to make the upcoming flight on the ENTOURAGE plane more tolerable, and also to more effectively flirt with the people they will be spending the next 24 hours with.

There will be more models walking around with trays of hors d'oeuvres. You will chase one down and ask for a mini-hamburger. She will laugh and kindly inform you it is not a mini-hamburger but rather a "Kobe beef slider." You will begin to notice that the burger isn't the only thing that is branded and/or sponsored: It's not champagne, it's DOM PERIGNON. It's not beer, it's HEINEKEN ULTRA PREMIUM, poured out of a HEINEKEN MINI KEG. Etc, etc. You will also think the models are flirting with you when they laugh at your bad jokes, before you realize that they are simply following marching orders from up top to make your experience as enjoyable as possible.

You will mill around a bit and make boring small talk with your fellow travelers, all of whom seem very excited to be flying to Vegas for free. (You are less excited because you don't gamble.) There will be music blaring out of an expensive sound system. It will be the "hip" kind of music you typically hear on an episode of ENTOURAGE—Interpol, Kanye West, and Bloc Party.

You will move away from the loud music and take a seat on one of the plush white couches situated around the hangar. A model will bring you another appetizer, this time some sort of crab cake with a delightful citrus dipping sauce. You will think to yourself, "I never want to fly commercial again," before you berate yourself for sounding like an asshole. A passerby will remark that the cast of ENTOURAGE, along with VIRGIN founder Richard Branson, is about to arrive via helicopter. You will think this is overkill, but then realize that the whole ordeal is by design overkill, and then think the helicopter sounds about right.

An HBO executive will take over the sound system. She will remark over the loudspeaker that Vinny Chase, Turtle, Johnny Drama, and E have arrived. (No sign of the helicopter.) Everyone will rush over to the airplane, in front of which the HBO exec is speaking, and from which the cast of ENTOURAGE, plus Richard Branson, will supposedly soon materialize.

Branson will make some introductory remarks about how pleased he is that VIRGIN AMERICA has partnered with ENTOURAGE on a direct NYC-to-VEGAS route. He will pass out bottles of champagne—ahem, DOM PERIGNON—to Vinny Chase, Turtle, et al. They will shake them up and uncork them and spray them in a celebratory manner into the crowd, which will applaud politely. Except for those who got wet. They will look slightly pissed.

Reporters from Entertainment Weekly, Us Weekly, and Condé Nast Traveler will ask questions like, "If you guys were running for president, who would you pick as your vice president?" They will give answers like "Turtle—he's been pretty good to me" (Vinny Chase), "My dad, since he's got a lot of good ideas," (Johnny Drama), and "Barack" (Richard Branson). Someone else will ask about how Virgin is expanding its flight services at a time when other airlines are cutting costs and slashing flights, which seems like kind of a smart-ass question given the surroundings. Branson will smile and answer it anyway.

You will be asked to board the aircraft, which you will do so, single file. The interior of the plane, with its purple and pink "mood lighting" will remind you of the stretch limo you took to your junior prom. You will notice more product branding: BOSE headphones, GODIVA chocolates, KIEHLS moisturizer. Later, when the flight attendant comes by to reclaim the BOSE headphones, you will tell her you misplaced yours before slipping them into your bag.

You will take your seat, which you are pleased to learn is in an aisle all by itself. An air stewardess who looks like one of the models you saw outside will offer you a drink. You decline it because you are tired and want to sleep. It has been a long day.

TO SEE WHAT HAPPENED IN VEGAS WHEN WE ENCOUNTERED MICHAEL PHELPS, CLICK HERE