In the last part of this telling story our hero wakes up in a bad shape, travels around the States, misses a night, and has no trouble getting into his own country for a change.

Sure. Now I could sleep in a bit, and then I wake up at seven. I hate that. I had time enough to pack, though, and I went to get breakfast at 8:00 am. Mark and Birgitte also had to leave, and they were supposed to be there as well. Mark got there in time, and he looked like crap. He was quick to comment that I looked quite similar as well. We got our breakfast, but both of us didn't even manage to down one muffin. We were pathetic, really. In fact, other people who joined our table made similar comments when they left.

Birgitte didn't show up until later, because she had trouble with her bill. I had that last year, and I can tell you it is a pain to get everything corrected. Last year I stayed in two rooms, with approximately each night with a different amount of people. I think it took Birgitte and her roommates over an hour to clear things up. In the meantime all Mark and I could do was sitting, and commenting on our sorry state.

We got split up traveling to the airport. I took a first mini-van, which filled up pretty quickly. At the airport I ran into another Dutchman I knew remotely. Turned out he had also been to the conference, and we never did see each other. (Well, I commented on that enough, I guess).

Flying back was uneventful, to say the least. We flew in a new MD-11 across the ocean, and for a change I didn't get a headache. I got at Schiphol airport at 6:00 am local time. It was raining. I wasn't surprised. I was home.