I have a sneaking suspicion that jet lag is going to turn out to be a real bitch.
Picture two men wandering around a sunny city, their spirits oscillating between sun-induced glee and travel-induced exhaustion and you’ve got a good summary of yesterday afternoon and evening.
Conferences usually mean several consecutive nights of going out for drinks, and I fear this greatly for the following reason: I can’t find a beer for less than five bucks. I’m fairly certain that the hotel staff now knows me as “the cheap guy”, since after a few forays in an attempt to find reasonably priced alcohol, I ended up in the gift/stuff-you-forgot store staring at the refrigerator unable to convince myself to buy a six-pack of Budweiser for $10.50.
