In literature, it seems to me that we sometimes insist that the only way to talk about work is to walk about it as a success, and not a failure.
Anyhow, like I said, it went well. The only real hassle were the long hours spent in traffic. I'd do strange things in that traffic. Random acts of kindness followed by random acts of cruelty. Maybe it's how people in that peak hour crawl usually act. Of course, I got taught a lesson right towards the end, when I left a guy pull in front of me. He was in a beat up old station wagon, but I didn't think much of that. Just slow down. Just let him drift into the lane. Just watch as he, in the middle of peak hour traffic, with lanes on either side of me packed tightly, put on his hazard lights and stumbled to a stop.
I sat there for a while, in the heat, waiting for a random moment of kindness that would allow me to escape.