By the time I stumbled off the plane back home, I had been wearing the same clothes for more than 24 hours while trying to sleep or trying to stay awake, neither very successfully, in various airplanes and terminals, and I felt as if I'd just oozed out from under a pile of slime, so naturally the first person I saw when I got off the airplane was our college president looking cool and professional and rested.
She asked about the conference and I said, "It was great! We worked really well as a team except that we had a little trouble agreeing on the team tattoos, and one of us had to convince airport security that he wasn't a terrorist or a hijacker despite the fact that he was carrying a knife and a camp stove and a tent, and the team leader drove on the sidewalk once, and we ate a lot of seafood and rocked at Team Haiku."
She raised her eyebrows and said, "Tattoos?"
Okay, so we didn't get team tattoos--but all the rest of it is true.