Home And Exhausted

Spent some time at Pleasure Island on Thursday night after dinner at Wolfgang Puck's, but didn't stay that long. Caught the improv show and two shows at the Adventurers Club, then called it a night. The flight home went smoothly. The Southwest pilot announced that it was the "flight back to reality". Got home and slept for 12 hours. Can't tell if my throat is just sore from too much talking, or whether I've caught the dreaded post-Lotusphere plague.

Is it me, or did the crowd disperse much more quickly after the closing ceremony than it usually has? As I was walking out, I didn't see nearly as many small groups of people gabbing in the halls and in the rotunda as I recall from previous years.