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Long ramble on the weekend...
Jul. 10th, 2001 01:34 pmSo. Gateway.
I had to work Friday, so I ran around that morning, frantically packing and trying to do everything I needed to do before going off to a convention. Including the bank, the store, and various other mind-numbing things.
Worked. Ick. I hated it incredibly, especially since there wasn't a thing on to watch. Blah.
Got picked up, stopped at a store to call the message system, since Darlene had left me one. *mutter* Don't tell me while I'm still AT work, with a phone, noooo.
Headed northwest to the airport. Got off on the right off-ramp, made it to the hotel. Hopped out. Now, I had my normal huge purse-like bag, plus a Jeep duffel-type bag. AND my cooler, which contained chocolate doughnuts and booze. Mm.
Staggered into the hotel and was assailed immediately by a strong sense of deja vu. You see, my first Name That Con was in the Airport Hilton. All of... Um... *counts backwards* Hang on, this may take a moment. 7! 7 years ago. My very first memorable convention, that was. The first one where I actually had a posse to run around with.
I spent Saturday night there, sleeping in the video room. *snicker* No, I didn't get much sleep. Didn't have any money by the time it was over, either.
So. Got into the hotel, staggered to the elevators and up to the fifth floor. Knocked on the door, pathetically saying it was Ana, and was let in to collapse in the wonderfully cold air.
I was tired and worn from the previous week, so I wasn't planning on going anywhere that night. Even though I could have if I'd wanted.
Instead, we all turned in around 2am, after talking a bunch.
A sad note, actually. Dragon, one of the men who I've known of/hugged/etc, for the last 7 years, has passed on. They said it was congenital heart failure. *sigh* The world is a slightly less happy place.
So. Talked even after the lights went out. I'm still sort of numb about Dragon. I didn't know him that well, and I am VERY worn out emotionally.
Woke up the next morning to the horribly bright sunlight pouring in the window. Cursed in a raspy voice, and hit the bottle of booze I'd brought for my breakfast. Mmm. Butterscotch, Amaretto and Irish Cream. Yum.
Also ate some of the doughnuts (y'know, the mini ones that Hostess makes).
Got dressed--after deciding to wear the grey shirt, since the purple might give Jenny the idea I was in support of her and the Purple Haze. *hiss*
And staggered downstairs to inspect the con, and volunteer. Oh. A note on my registration. I was going to buy a Saturday-only badge ($50, iirc), but didn't have to, since Darlene and Mike signed over Mary Anna's badge to me, and she had the full weekend. Saved money. Yay.
Tried to volunteer. Three times the volunteer guy sent me out to ask people if they needed help. None of them did. So. Screw that, I went and hung out with Darlene, James Doohan, and his agent, Steve.
Jimmy is a bit hard of hearing, but his mind is still as sharp as a steel trap. And he's so very very proud of his little daughter. *chuckle* He even had pictures of her and talked about her incessantly.
One thing, though. He was charging $20 for an autograph. Technically, that's not too bad, since, iirc, some people I've seen charge $10 for the autograph, BUT, you also have to buy a $20 dollar picture, 'cause it's the only thing they'll sign.
Of course, I think I liked Nick Brendan's attitude at Visions in 98. "I'm already getting paid to be here, why should I charge money for something I'm contracted to do?"
*chuckle* Of course, Nick was also ticklish.
Anyway. It was sort of fun to sit there and watch people come over and be all awed and happy to see Scotty.
At 3pm, there was an Honour Guard of Klingons for him as he entered his panel. About ten people tricked out in full Klingon garb stood silently by as he walked to the stage from the door. Was sort of impressively cool.
Of course, it was requested that nobody ask Jimmy about Shatner.
I think I wandered to the Art Show then, and talked to the guy in charge about helping out with the auction. Put a bid on a few things. All of which didn't make it to auction, and I got for a steal *cackle* Ya gotta love the rationale behind selling things for the single bid price if you put your name on them...
Um. Let me try and explain. Most art shows, you have the direct sale price, and the minimum bid price. If you just want a piece of artwork outright, you get it for the direct sale price (which may be anywhere from $10-$150, or higher, depending on the artist and the quality. I mean, if you're Nene Thomas, you can demand $150 bucks for one of the exquisite prints you've got up. If you're Joe Schmoe, you can't...).
If you put a bid on, and the piece does not go to auction, you get to buy it the next day at that price. So, if say, you put a $2 dollar bid on a JR Daniels airplane piece, you can score it for 2 bucks on Sunday.
*chuckle* It's all good.
At some point, Phenix came back to pal around with us. Phenix being my friend Thomas, who I've known for almost 9 years now. Damn. Anyway. He's cool beans.
I hit the dealers' room at some point, and bought a Buffy T shirt and some cd. Don't remember what, now. I didn't spend more than $30, though, of which I am inordinately proud. Especially since the guy with the used books had several I sort of wanted. MMmm. Boooks.
Gave Jenny the book for the PH, and explained I couldn't find the lock box yet. I've apparently put it somewhere safe. Sigh.
The auction time came, and I ended up running, which means standing for the better part of an hour and a half. Ick.
Afterwards, I realised I'd made a big mistake. I was shaky and hadn't eaten since that morning. Sigh. When will I learn?
I also left my Scoozie in the art room. Luckily, it was there the next morning.
I suppose I should explain about the Scoozie. It's a stuffed Pine Marten with sensors on it. It makes noise like giggles and chirps, and uh-ohs, and wriggles around. It also does it when not stimulated, which can be startling if you're in a quiet room and nowhere near it...
I'd brought it to the con to show off for laughs. Unfortunately, the batteries were dead. And the battery holder was screwed shut. With a tiny cheapo phillips head. So, next morning, I made the rounds, trying to find a screwdriver small enough to take the screw out. Eventually, one of the RobotWars guys discovered he had one.
I didn't screw it back together, I just taped it.
Jimmy Doohan thought it was nifty, so I am pleased. *giggling*
After the art auction, I cornered Mike and Darlene, Phenix in tow, and we all agreed it was time to eat. We ran into Michelle, and then headded for Darlene's car. We all fit. Sort of.
The ride there was fucking hilarious, but I can't remember anything but laughing harder than I'd laughed in a long while. We hit Ponderosa, where I proceeded to shake until I'd downed the first plate of salad and garlic bread.
Ran into Anetra the fuckhead, too. Speaking of which, she STILL hasn't formally quit from the job. She hasn't called or shit. Stupid wench.
Ate. Felt much better. Headed back to the con for the Masquerade which absolutely sucked. 17 entries, and not one was at all good or interesting. Either that, or I am majorly jaded on costumes.
And then. The pool and hot tub.
Spent as long as we could in there. Even though there were a couple obnoxious little kids running around, screaming at the top of their lungs... In the pool. At 10pm. With NO parents to watch them. Yeah, that's really being responsible. Little brats.
Hotel staff were telling them to shut up, they were saying they were drowning. Hotel staff said, "I don't care, shut up!"
They didn't shut up.
Ugh.
I knew there was a reason I didn't want kids.
The hot tub/pool combo turned me into utter limpness. I could hardly walk, my muscles were so dead by the end of the soak. Staggered back to our room, sat around for a while. I finally got dressed in something other than my swimsuit. And then Phenix and I wandered around to the room parties.
Of which there were none, since the hotel had shut them all down. Uhuh. I can see we'll be back at this hotel next year.
riiiight.
Hit the dance, which was mildly okay, except the music sucked ass.
And so, bored and tired, we wandered back to the room, kept Phenix from doing something rash (he was very close to Dragon, and was contemplating drinking himself into a stupor :/) And sent him home, sans any booze.
I collapsed into bed and slept like the damned.
Sunday morning dawned bright and hot. Temps were to reach a staggering 101 F, later that day. Luckily, air conditioing has been invented.
I hung out with Darlene and Jimmy for most of the morning. Only breaking to get my Scoozie and art from the art show. Mmmm. Arrrt.
Oh. We packed up our shit, too, since checkout was at the unGodly hour of noon. Ugh.
Sadly, I was going to have to head to work, so I didn't get to go with Jimmy to the airport, *sniffle*
I did get pictures with various people. James Doohan, Ted Raimi, and Trace B(no clue how to spell this name), and Frank Coniff... Cool people. Sigh. Now I have to finish off the roll, so I can take it in for developing. Plus, I took some other peoples' pictures for them, since they hadn't a camera.
Must send.
Sigh. I think that's all, really. Didn't do much else except work, come home and die for a long sleep. Yesterday was a bust, except that I started reading Rumpole of the Bailey books. Mmmm. Good prose, nice jokes... And decent mysteries.
That seems to be it. I'm sure I'll think of more, later.
I had to work Friday, so I ran around that morning, frantically packing and trying to do everything I needed to do before going off to a convention. Including the bank, the store, and various other mind-numbing things.
Worked. Ick. I hated it incredibly, especially since there wasn't a thing on to watch. Blah.
Got picked up, stopped at a store to call the message system, since Darlene had left me one. *mutter* Don't tell me while I'm still AT work, with a phone, noooo.
Headed northwest to the airport. Got off on the right off-ramp, made it to the hotel. Hopped out. Now, I had my normal huge purse-like bag, plus a Jeep duffel-type bag. AND my cooler, which contained chocolate doughnuts and booze. Mm.
Staggered into the hotel and was assailed immediately by a strong sense of deja vu. You see, my first Name That Con was in the Airport Hilton. All of... Um... *counts backwards* Hang on, this may take a moment. 7! 7 years ago. My very first memorable convention, that was. The first one where I actually had a posse to run around with.
I spent Saturday night there, sleeping in the video room. *snicker* No, I didn't get much sleep. Didn't have any money by the time it was over, either.
So. Got into the hotel, staggered to the elevators and up to the fifth floor. Knocked on the door, pathetically saying it was Ana, and was let in to collapse in the wonderfully cold air.
I was tired and worn from the previous week, so I wasn't planning on going anywhere that night. Even though I could have if I'd wanted.
Instead, we all turned in around 2am, after talking a bunch.
A sad note, actually. Dragon, one of the men who I've known of/hugged/etc, for the last 7 years, has passed on. They said it was congenital heart failure. *sigh* The world is a slightly less happy place.
So. Talked even after the lights went out. I'm still sort of numb about Dragon. I didn't know him that well, and I am VERY worn out emotionally.
Woke up the next morning to the horribly bright sunlight pouring in the window. Cursed in a raspy voice, and hit the bottle of booze I'd brought for my breakfast. Mmm. Butterscotch, Amaretto and Irish Cream. Yum.
Also ate some of the doughnuts (y'know, the mini ones that Hostess makes).
Got dressed--after deciding to wear the grey shirt, since the purple might give Jenny the idea I was in support of her and the Purple Haze. *hiss*
And staggered downstairs to inspect the con, and volunteer. Oh. A note on my registration. I was going to buy a Saturday-only badge ($50, iirc), but didn't have to, since Darlene and Mike signed over Mary Anna's badge to me, and she had the full weekend. Saved money. Yay.
Tried to volunteer. Three times the volunteer guy sent me out to ask people if they needed help. None of them did. So. Screw that, I went and hung out with Darlene, James Doohan, and his agent, Steve.
Jimmy is a bit hard of hearing, but his mind is still as sharp as a steel trap. And he's so very very proud of his little daughter. *chuckle* He even had pictures of her and talked about her incessantly.
One thing, though. He was charging $20 for an autograph. Technically, that's not too bad, since, iirc, some people I've seen charge $10 for the autograph, BUT, you also have to buy a $20 dollar picture, 'cause it's the only thing they'll sign.
Of course, I think I liked Nick Brendan's attitude at Visions in 98. "I'm already getting paid to be here, why should I charge money for something I'm contracted to do?"
*chuckle* Of course, Nick was also ticklish.
Anyway. It was sort of fun to sit there and watch people come over and be all awed and happy to see Scotty.
At 3pm, there was an Honour Guard of Klingons for him as he entered his panel. About ten people tricked out in full Klingon garb stood silently by as he walked to the stage from the door. Was sort of impressively cool.
Of course, it was requested that nobody ask Jimmy about Shatner.
I think I wandered to the Art Show then, and talked to the guy in charge about helping out with the auction. Put a bid on a few things. All of which didn't make it to auction, and I got for a steal *cackle* Ya gotta love the rationale behind selling things for the single bid price if you put your name on them...
Um. Let me try and explain. Most art shows, you have the direct sale price, and the minimum bid price. If you just want a piece of artwork outright, you get it for the direct sale price (which may be anywhere from $10-$150, or higher, depending on the artist and the quality. I mean, if you're Nene Thomas, you can demand $150 bucks for one of the exquisite prints you've got up. If you're Joe Schmoe, you can't...).
If you put a bid on, and the piece does not go to auction, you get to buy it the next day at that price. So, if say, you put a $2 dollar bid on a JR Daniels airplane piece, you can score it for 2 bucks on Sunday.
*chuckle* It's all good.
At some point, Phenix came back to pal around with us. Phenix being my friend Thomas, who I've known for almost 9 years now. Damn. Anyway. He's cool beans.
I hit the dealers' room at some point, and bought a Buffy T shirt and some cd. Don't remember what, now. I didn't spend more than $30, though, of which I am inordinately proud. Especially since the guy with the used books had several I sort of wanted. MMmm. Boooks.
Gave Jenny the book for the PH, and explained I couldn't find the lock box yet. I've apparently put it somewhere safe. Sigh.
The auction time came, and I ended up running, which means standing for the better part of an hour and a half. Ick.
Afterwards, I realised I'd made a big mistake. I was shaky and hadn't eaten since that morning. Sigh. When will I learn?
I also left my Scoozie in the art room. Luckily, it was there the next morning.
I suppose I should explain about the Scoozie. It's a stuffed Pine Marten with sensors on it. It makes noise like giggles and chirps, and uh-ohs, and wriggles around. It also does it when not stimulated, which can be startling if you're in a quiet room and nowhere near it...
I'd brought it to the con to show off for laughs. Unfortunately, the batteries were dead. And the battery holder was screwed shut. With a tiny cheapo phillips head. So, next morning, I made the rounds, trying to find a screwdriver small enough to take the screw out. Eventually, one of the RobotWars guys discovered he had one.
I didn't screw it back together, I just taped it.
Jimmy Doohan thought it was nifty, so I am pleased. *giggling*
After the art auction, I cornered Mike and Darlene, Phenix in tow, and we all agreed it was time to eat. We ran into Michelle, and then headded for Darlene's car. We all fit. Sort of.
The ride there was fucking hilarious, but I can't remember anything but laughing harder than I'd laughed in a long while. We hit Ponderosa, where I proceeded to shake until I'd downed the first plate of salad and garlic bread.
Ran into Anetra the fuckhead, too. Speaking of which, she STILL hasn't formally quit from the job. She hasn't called or shit. Stupid wench.
Ate. Felt much better. Headed back to the con for the Masquerade which absolutely sucked. 17 entries, and not one was at all good or interesting. Either that, or I am majorly jaded on costumes.
And then. The pool and hot tub.
Spent as long as we could in there. Even though there were a couple obnoxious little kids running around, screaming at the top of their lungs... In the pool. At 10pm. With NO parents to watch them. Yeah, that's really being responsible. Little brats.
Hotel staff were telling them to shut up, they were saying they were drowning. Hotel staff said, "I don't care, shut up!"
They didn't shut up.
Ugh.
I knew there was a reason I didn't want kids.
The hot tub/pool combo turned me into utter limpness. I could hardly walk, my muscles were so dead by the end of the soak. Staggered back to our room, sat around for a while. I finally got dressed in something other than my swimsuit. And then Phenix and I wandered around to the room parties.
Of which there were none, since the hotel had shut them all down. Uhuh. I can see we'll be back at this hotel next year.
riiiight.
Hit the dance, which was mildly okay, except the music sucked ass.
And so, bored and tired, we wandered back to the room, kept Phenix from doing something rash (he was very close to Dragon, and was contemplating drinking himself into a stupor :/) And sent him home, sans any booze.
I collapsed into bed and slept like the damned.
Sunday morning dawned bright and hot. Temps were to reach a staggering 101 F, later that day. Luckily, air conditioing has been invented.
I hung out with Darlene and Jimmy for most of the morning. Only breaking to get my Scoozie and art from the art show. Mmmm. Arrrt.
Oh. We packed up our shit, too, since checkout was at the unGodly hour of noon. Ugh.
Sadly, I was going to have to head to work, so I didn't get to go with Jimmy to the airport, *sniffle*
I did get pictures with various people. James Doohan, Ted Raimi, and Trace B(no clue how to spell this name), and Frank Coniff... Cool people. Sigh. Now I have to finish off the roll, so I can take it in for developing. Plus, I took some other peoples' pictures for them, since they hadn't a camera.
Must send.
Sigh. I think that's all, really. Didn't do much else except work, come home and die for a long sleep. Yesterday was a bust, except that I started reading Rumpole of the Bailey books. Mmmm. Good prose, nice jokes... And decent mysteries.
That seems to be it. I'm sure I'll think of more, later.
