Sunday
We’re all up early. Such wimps, thrown off by a dinky three-hour time difference. Guy does a little demo of his 3D printer, we have coffee and bagels, watch part of a Naked Gun movie (which makes perfect sense, really) and the next thing you know we’re flying home. The flight home is made better by Francesca, who seems to know everyone in Santa Barbara, and has had convinced her friends there to get us better seats on the flight from Phoenix to Newark. Row 18 on the Boeing 737 to Newark is overrun by Group 9. Pity the poor Russian girl stuck between David and Trains.
We arrive in Newark and it’s 18º. Lovely.
Meanwhile, in California….
And just like that, it’s done.