Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Observations on Conventions

Hotel stays are much less stressful if you have a refrigerator in your room.

It's much less lonesome to conk out of going to the late night party stuff if you're sharing a room with someone who also conks out.

No matter how many people tell you how wonderful you are, there will always be a period on the way home when you're writhing with embarrassment at what you said, or did, or meant to say or do and didn't, which everybody else has forgotten, or never known, about. Get over it.

Unpacking from the con is exponentially harder than packing for it.

Being frugal in the dealers' room is not a good excuse to splurge on the way out of town. So you may as well splurge in the dealers' room, and get the money circulating in the fandom again.

I'm never sure if people look familiar because I've met them, because we've been at a lot of the same conventions, or because they have body, hair, face, and clothing styles that are typical of the subculture. Odds are good other people are wondering the same thing about me.

Scheduling snafus are to be expected.

Surf the chaos and profit from the experience.


  1. Well, I hope you had fun. The story of your mother's compose heap was a hoot!

  2. OK. What about my compost heap?

  3. Hi, Mom! Remember when you were letting the college kids in back of us dump their scraps on your compost heap, and Jeff pointed out that the maverick tomatoes growing on it weren't tomatoes?

    I tell that story sometimes.

    Yes, the con was fun, and I sold some books; but poor Damon had health crap and I can't sleep in hotel rooms. So I'm still recovering.