Won't you please come to Chicago?

10:30 pm--the eve of AWP.  I'm exhausted from the planes but happy to be here.  A weird trip, however.  First off, the hardware holding the strap to my laptop case spontaneously shatters (lesson one: don't buy cheap briefcases at Marshalls!).  Is this an omen?  Next, the turbo-prop scheduled to take me from Ithaca to LaGuardia breaks on the tarmac.  I later heard that the pilot heard a popping sound when it was landing--never a good thing.  A hectic re-booking not just on different flights, but on different airlines.  A few hours later I'm standing at a counter in Philadelphia, being told that yes, I've been booked on a flight to Chicago, but no, they don't have a seat for me.  I'll just have to wait to see if one opens up (it does).  After that, high clouds and turbulence and a very shaky, but successful landing.  Now I'm at the Congress Plaza Hotel typing this; a hotel that may or may not be in the middle of a labor dispute.  It's old and ornate and filled with AWP conventioneers (do we get mouse-eared hats with our registration packet?).  Big day tomorrow:  11 am--book signing at  Cervena Barva Press table; 4:45 U of AZ MFA reading will Amy Pence, Val Martinez, Ann Cummins and others.  I'm feeling all "writerly" and stuff!  Mostly, it'll be fun.