Nothing makes you bond with your coworkers better than closing two bars with them. The first little pub chucked us out at midnight but were kind enough to direct us to an irish pub, where we were politely asked to leave at 2am. We lurched our way back to the hotel where, instead of going to bed, we found that the night manager opened the bar for us (and didn't charge us for it!!). In a word, well three, we got pissed. This is bad. This is establishing precedent and will have to be rectified. Attending conferences hungover isn't productive and worse of all, it isn't fun. I'm getting too old for this shit (and the people who are with me are in fact older and in worse shape, which is also an incentive to break the pattern now). The conference ends in a few hours, when I will slowly make my way back to the lakefront for some last pictures (no, not the topless beach… pervs) and then slowly mosey back to the airport to wait for my flight.
The beaver is a proud and noble animal
Notes from a bemused canuck