Coffee has been promised in the lobby of the Ambos Mundos starting at 6:30. Bus 3794 will depart an hour later. We are taking our leave. My experience has been so eye-popping and jaw-dropping that the writing workshop seems almost beside the point. Two women, who have been relentlessly voluble throughout the trip, will not shut the fuck up. They talk across the aisle of the bus and I can barely resist the impulse to knock their heads together. I move further back where the chatter is more diffuse. It is time for me to go.
Then, airborne. Then, home.