Sometimes you hop a plane to see a production of your play, and they put you up in a nice hotel with a big white bed that you could sleep in forever, but you don’t, because they pick you up and ply you with brueggers bagels and it’s the best. And then if this weren’t enough, they show you their beautiful production of your play that really feels as if they’ve all read your mind and you find yourself tearing up at your own play, which never happens,  because they’re that moving and good. After one of those actually good talkbacks with a sweet and insightful audience, you are then plied with fish tacos and white wine and cupcakes and sent back home, feeling like the luckiest playwright in the world.