Every inch of Mandalay Bay’s sprawling convention center here is covered with people using all manner of trickery to make you notice them and check out their products. I saw a Delorean towing a tiny trailer, more blinking lights than the runway at McCarran airport, and an army of women whose only job seemed to be to riding rollers with their jerseys unzipped. There were more than 1,200 vendors to see, hear, and smell.

As I sit at the airport headed home, bleary eyed and exhausted after two days of this insanity, I try to parse all I learned, comprehend all I saw and, in the end, figure out why the hell WIRED was at Interbike.