The trip begins sooner than I expect–an email from my dad after he tried to check me in without telling me: “if I cause you any problem sorry about that.”–annoyance and trepidation. When I’m actually on the plane, I give my seat up (in both of my flights) to people who want to sit together. (The latter, connecting flight, ironically I switched with people I would have an extremely long and tiring dinner with later, at an Italian restaurant.)

The show itself is what I expected: dark, foggy, lights penetrating through everywhere. Blinding. I forget that I’m not used to standing all day, especially in heels, but my boss lets me sit from time to time (which, according to my coworker, is definitely not standard, and I am grateful).

Talking to people is hard in the beginning, but after a while, you are used it, used to their questions and answering them. Some people are nice, some are informative, some are jerks, and others are childish. Everyone is mesmerized by the sparkling curtain of light we have draped over our booth. They run their hands through it, entranced by the star like points; some people even try to stick it in their ears and noses (gross!).

Dinners are fun, I eat massive amounts of seafood, then feel sick because I remember my cholesterol. Dinners are also long, especially if we eat with business partners. At one point, I am stuck with a lighting designer for several–he’s tall and very nice, but I’m too tired to keep up a conversation.

The flight back is better than the flight there, because after a long 7 hours I am home.

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