"Kentucky is sucky," I childishly hypothesized.

As excited as I was to go to Louisville for the College Media Convention and spend three days away from school, the idea of Kentucky was not exciting.

While the sucky-song was clearly a product of airline-induced insanity, little did I know that I would soon be changing my tune. Not only was Kentucky fabulous and un-sucky, but I also found my true calling: I am meant to be a jockey.

My share of the $1.425 million check from my inevitable Kentucky Derby win will obviously be the biggest perk, but Louisville has several advantages that South Dakota does not.

As a devoted fan of all Top Chef spin-offs, I am a closet foodie – Kentucky is the foodie's dreamland. With a plethora of restaurants touting foods from around the world lining every block, a person could spend years sampling every different venue in the city.

From Waffle House to Food Network-featured greats such as Lynn's Paradise Café, Louisville presented me with thousands of options for great dining.

Louisville satisfies another not-so-closeted element of my personality – my profound love of hippies.

During my visit, I found an entire street filled with hippie shops, where hippies were very much "on the bus" á la Ken Kesey. And Louisville is the childhood home of my favorite alternative writer, Hunter S. Thompson.

What could be better? And, on my second to last day, I found the ultimate selling point for Louisville: ghosts.

Since I'm already on a roll for admitting deep-dark secrets, I might as well acknowledge that I am an avid fan of the show Ghost Adventures.

There is something about the ridiculous bros on that show spending nights in creepy buildings, searching for electronic voice phenomena (EVP) and ghostly orbs of light that just draws me in.

I can't explain it, but sometimes, smart people just watch really stupid television.

The beautiful homes in the heart of Louisville are filled with shady pasts – elderly women who never moved on after their deaths or the spirits of lynched slaves haunting the homes of their murderers.

Between the ghosts, hippies and wonderful foodie haunts, Louisville is the ideal home for me as a future jockey.

Of course, that includes me avoiding the obvious negatives of being jockey.

Principally, my height and the fact that I've never once ridden a horse. And, after I have eaten all that food, I don't think I'll make the weight limit. I suppose those are barriers to overcome.

In the end, I'm sure I have just as good of a chance of becoming a jockey as I do becoming the President of the United States.

But really, the lesson learned in the end was that Kentucky is in fact, not sucky at all.