I am epically overstimulated these days. I am also sleepy. I flew to New York a week and a half ago for BEA, the annual book conference. In addition to building three slide presentations that would endure much scrutiny (and turn out to be as effective as they needed to be, thank god), I also gave a talk to several hundred people. It went fine.
Then it was time to celebrate. We hosted a big BBQ for the publishing world at the Google NYC office. It has the benefit of being fun AND impressing the bowties off people.
We also had a team dinner, which devolved into a game of Jeopardy about my boss and emo/raucous toasts (including one in honor of me and my PowerPoint labors). We then took over a hookah bar on the Lower East Side and turned it into a huge dance party.
The next morning I was at the airport at 5 a.m. for a flight to New Orleans. Pictures of that are yet to come (my camera cable is back in SF), but suffice to say it was absolutely awesome. We went to a cowboy wedding, we ate shellfish, we listened to jazz and wandered the streets all night. We drank grenade-shaped drinks on Bourbon Street (newsflash: they’re nasty).
We pretty much wrecked ourselves, and had a good time doing it.
Yesterday involved an early flight to New York, a full day of work, and a takeout dinner on a roofdeck in Brooklyn with a friend from home, a friend from college, and a friend from San Francisco, all of whom now live in New York and hang out without me. This thing makes me happy.
And now I am on the Amtrak, passing the lovely snooty beach towns of Connecticut on my way to Boston. I am going to visit my favorite bars in Cambridge, catch up with amigos, and try not to overexcite myself in anticipation of my five year college reunion. Next Tuesday I fly back to San Francisco, where I plan to have a complete physical collapse in the safety of my own bed.