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(Milk turns out to be quite a key ingredient.) When I did manage to sneak out to supermarkets still officially for essential shopping only, my hunting for the likes of ladyfingers so as not to let down our Tiramisù World Cup instructor caused befuddlement among my fellow shoppers.

Organizing and attending up to 14 experiences a day left little time for procuring the required ingredients and creative supplies, leading to some seriously improvised arts and crafts and a cremated crêpe attempt. We had contacted every experience on the nascent platform and suddenly found our days dizzyingly chockablock. And so on Monday morning, we found ourselves embarking on a mad mission to complete 80 online experiences that week to see if any great journey begins with a single click. What that was and whether it was a one-off or not, we were uncertain. Afterward, we were both surprised to find there had really been something to it.

The other eight people in our group included several regulars, one of whom was on her seventh session. A man who had gotten into comedy accidentally because of his name, Thomas Cock, guided us through an hour of laughing exercises: the laughter alphabet, invisible giggling cocktail shakers, laughing our last laugh through a terminal plane crash. Unsure what to expect, we’d tentatively joined a laughter yoga class from Lisbon, Portugal, the week before.

My friend Dave and I had been desperately looking for something to fill the travel-shaped void in our lives when we stumbled upon Airbnb’s new offering, in which hosts guide you through online activities from their homes all over the world.

As each experience began, its host launching into it with heartfelt fervor, I felt like an underqualified talent show judge. Increasingly, I felt a bit like Simon Cowell-the human version-myself. My visit with Simon Cowell was part of a journey I undertook to complete 80 Airbnb online experiences in a week.