Profiles in frustration, or, four good hours of my life I'll never get back.

I was supposed to go to a meeting today on the psychological ramifications of a nuclear/biological/chemical terrorist attack. It's expected (based on past events like the Tokyo subway sarin attack) that if an attack occurs, people with symptoms caused by acute psychological reactions to the attack will outnumber people experiencing direct effects of the toxin, perhaps by a factor of ten or more - overwhelming hospitals' surge capacity. The meeting was supposed to involve a group of behavioral scientists brainstorming ways of dealing with the anticipated problem. Lydia was invited, but she couldn't attend in the morning - so I was supposed to go and videotape the speakers for her, and take notes.

Note that I say I was supposed to go, and not that I did go.( what happened instead )