9 am: Get all gussied up with no where to go.  Proceed to drink a lot of coffee before heading out the door and feel nervous about encountering, well, no one.

10 am: Arrive at last remaining chain bookstore and ask clerk for the daily schedule of events.

10:15 am: Ask a teenager about the submission process at his magazine until his mother comes up to you asking you to “please stop.”

10:30 am: Run up to an old woman you are convinced is Joan Didion asking her to sign a rumpled piece of paper you find in your bag only to have her grown son start yelling at you to stop confusing his mother who suffers from dementia.

10:33 am: Get kicked out of bookstore.

11 am: Walk into a coffee shop asking where people did their MFA until someone misunderstands you, offering you some MDMA, which has pleasanter effects and the same impact on the trajectory of your writing career than a degree ever could.

12 noon: Rush back to your apartment for a “reading” only to find your cat asleep on your couch.  Read to her anyway, that is, until you have to clean up a hairball.

12:10 pm: Start drinking and waiting until your friends at AWP wake up.

12:15 pm: Continue drinking and reading to cat.