I spoke at a conference at the Monmouth Plantation in Natchez, Mississippi over the weekend. In a downtown coffee shop yesterday, I met a woman who did her Ph.D. dissertation on Flannery O'Connor. I made the sign of the cross, then grasped her hand as if it were a first-class relic.
What was really interesting, though, was not having a spare moment to myself for approx. 52 hours other than when I was sleeping.
There's a passage in Ryszard Kapuscinski's The Shadow of the Sun about the capacity of the people of Africa to wait, in their case, for the bus, or village official, or rain. Apparently they go into a kind of fugue state, a kind of inward gathering or reserves, not moving, not breathing, not rising to relieve themselves.
Though appearing (I hope) to be fully functioning, I more or less felt/feel that way myself.