Gallifrey One

It's been many, many years since Hubby-Eric and I went to Gallifrey One, mostly due to monetary issues. So our triumphant return to the convention after so long was incredibly pleasant.

It started when a friend got tickets but couldn't make the trip. We got our tickets via a transfer, and then waited for months, knowing we were finally going back. However, as the date drew near, the weather started to become uncooperative. Very uncooperative. A massive storm hit the west coast, and Seattle in particular, closing the mountain passes. As we had to take Inkwell the Magical Cat to his grandparents' house to stay while we were in California, the countdown to the trip became a nightmare of constantly checking the status of the passes and hoping one would be open when it came time to go.

Fortunately, White Pass was... passable... the night before our flight. It's two hours longer than Snoqualmie Pass to get to my parents' house, but because the pass was VERY clear, we made it in very good time. Snoqualmie, in the meantime, was closed due to avalanche danger.

Both Eric and I packed really light. I mean *REALLY* light. I had a carpet bag and my purse, Eric had a backpack. We were going as light as we could manage in the hopes that we wouldn't have to check anything and we could move faster when needed. I hoped it would reduce my anxiety about flying a little, but it also meant we had no room for anything we might want to buy in the dealers room.

My sister drove us out to the airport on Thursday morning with lots of time planned for security. Luckily, although the security lines were longish, they weren't *too* bad and we reached our gate with plenty of time to go before boarding. I had time to talk with the gate agents about my anxiety issues, and was promised I could pre-board. I really hate flying. I mean, I get scared and anxious and feel like I'm being eaten by bugs and dipped in fire and drowning and everything all at once. I had some Dramamine this time, and took it the moment I was settled in my seat on the plane. Then I listened to podcasts while everyone else boarded and we left the gate. By the time we reached cruising altitude I was mostly asleep. The flight down was not bad.

Once out of the airport, we got a shuttle to the Marriott, where the con was being held. Other Galley attendees were on the shuttle and we even got our first ribbons of the con - before we even had badges! Once at the hotel, I asked about registration and was told it wouldn't open until 3 pm. It was noonish. So Eric and I went into Hanger 18 for a ridiculously expensive lunch of fish tacos, then walked down the street a bit to our hotel (the Crowne Plaza) and checked in. Our friend Dan Murphy let us know when registration opened, so we headed back to the Marriott and got our badges. We were also introduced to the concept of TARDIS tufts.


For dinner, we did the In And Out burger run, which is a tradition on Thursday night of the con. We went with the Murphys and some other friends, getting a little rained on as we went. I can honestly say I will never get fries at that place again, although my sister said they just need salt on them. We got lovely burgers and ate in an incredibly packed restaurant with a crush of bodies that was unreal - and got a ribbon for *that*, too.


As we loitered around the convention space, a woman asked us to come over to her group and explain ribbons to them. So we were introduced to the Doctor Who Restoration Team, and got to explain the concept of badge ribbons and how it's exploded. It was great fun.

That night we attended the ice cream social. As we were waiting in line to go in, Richard Franklin wandered around saying hello to people. I waved at him and he came over to chat with hubby and I for a bit before moving on. It was very nice.

Once inside I went to see about an envelope of coins while hubby waited for ice cream. Once we had our treat, we found a table and made some new friends. I noticed that Carole Ann Ford and William Russell were walking across the floor and told Eric that I really, really, really wanted to tell William about the Twitch stream and how he had become a meme online. I saw them turn my way and waved to them... and they walked over to chat with me.

I was a bit more than gushing and so freaking thrilled about chatting with them that I felt like I was imploding or something. While we chatted, Frazer Hines came over to talk with them as well. Leading to me chatting animatedly with all three of them and trying to explain the Twitch Doctor Who Marathon. When I said "London 1965" became a meme, all three of them in unison said, "What's a meme?"

I also got to explain ribbons to Carole Ann Ford, and helped her put her first ribbon on her badge. And hubby-Eric got to tell Frazer that, despite having gone to cons for more than 30 years, this was the first time the two of them had managed to meet.

My mind basically exploded at that point, and I really don't remember going back to the hotel for the night. But we did, and we got up Friday morning having already had an excellent convention and went down to a very expensive hotel breakfast. When we went back up to our room, we couldn't get back in. The door latch had somehow swung far enough over that the door wouldn't open. We were a bit boggled, and Eric went down to the front desk for help.

The janitor guy had a tool specifically for this problem, and was able to open the door quickly once he arrived. After that, we always made sure the bolt part was up against the wall when we left the room, since we had no idea how it had swung over to lock the door.

We got to the Marriott early, and lobby-conned before Eric's 10 am panel. His panel was about being fans in the days before the new show came out, and was a lot of fun. I got to mention flicker-vision, which Eric explained, and there was a great deal of joy in chatting about the fun of finding tapes and making the discovery of new (old) episodes and learning about fandom piece by piece. One panelist wondered if current fans appreciate the show as much, because they didn't have to go to the sheer effort of finding stories to watch that older fans did. There was a question of gatekeeping, but the panelists said it didn't make them any less of a fan, just made them wonder.


My panel was at noon, so I wandered a bit between panels. I stopped in on Jon Davey's presentation, which was great. I wish I could have gone for the whole thing, but I was having trouble sitting still - and I had a panel to prep for. I found water, as I was parched pretty much all the time. I drank a ton of water while at the convention. Unfortunately, there was no water service in the hotel on Thursday, when I was suffering the most. But by Friday all the water tanks were being kept full by attentive staff.

My panel, moderated by Paul Cornell, was about Doctor Who Magazine comics, and while I had done some of my homework beforehand, I hadn't gotten through all the comics like I intended to. So I felt ill at ease among the panelists who included people who had worked on the comics and been part of the industry for years, while I was just this fangirl having fun. I didn't feel truly at ease until the end of the panel, when an audience member came up to me to compliment me on an observation I made. At that point, the whole thing was worth it.

The Dealers Room had girl scouts. They had a weeping angel scout. It was awesome.


I have very little memories of the rest of the day. I know we had another expensive lunch at the Marriott, and then I saw Katy Manning (I'm pretty sure I gave her a hug at one point, too) and around 3 pm I headed back to our hotel room to drop something off and made the mistake of taking off my shoes. I had intended to go to the Catherine Tate presentation, but fell into a deep and pleasant sleep with some very strange dreams that I cannot quite remember. That was it for me on Friday. I know Eric went to some other events and got back late to the room, but he'll have to tell you what he was up to, because I was completely out of it.

I was wide awake Saturday morning. I suppose it helped that a woman in the room next to us was having a screaming argument with someone who wasn't as loud. She was so noisy I could hear her while I was in the shower. Eventually Eric called the front desk about it, since they were not calming down, and someone came to have a chat with them. About twenty minutes after security left, she started up again, but we were leaving at that point.

We did the breakfast buffet at the Crowne Plaza, then headed directly to the Marriott where we spent the rest of the day until the Masquerade was over. It was a long day, but a fun day. For the most part, I dipped in an out of panels and the dealers room, and chatted with people and wandered around meeting folks. I got to show John Barrowman my "Captain Jack Slept Here" ribbon, and he said, "Oh, you have NO idea where he's slept!"

I visited the art show, and spent a good amount of time in the dealers room, although I bought very little due to the very tight space we had for traveling. The costumes were out in force, and I took a few photos.








There was a lot to see and do. I know Eric sat on a lot of panels, but I didn't hit as many because I don't like to sit still for long and prefer to be moving around or in a very comfortable seat. Banquet seating is not in the least bit comfortable, so I usually have trouble sitting through full panels.

I did spend some time at the con suite, or rather right outside the door of the con suite, catching Pokemon by the pool. There was enough GPS drift at the pool that I was "walking" between several pokestops while catching Community Day Pokemon and chatting with other Pokemon Go players. It was a lovely day, with just enough of a breeze to be cool and enough sunlight to keep anything in the sunlight warm. I'm not entirely sure how long I was down there, but it was excellent time, well-spent with good friends.

At three pm I went to the main hall to sit in on Colin Baker's presentation. I hadn't heard all the stories he told, so that was a lot of fun. As the panel went on, more and more people poured in the room for the next event: John Barrowman. I had a decent seat and Eric joined me for the Barrowman presentation.


Now, I knew that Barrowman puts on a show... but I'd never actually seen him before (although I've been to cons with him before). So I wasn't sure what to expect. He delivered. He is insane, certifiably. And he is lovely funny. And dirty funny. And told a story about his husband accidentally flashing a live stream on Facebook, and how John's in-laws took the news. It was painfully funny.


Towards the end of Barrowman's bit, Catherine Tate came out and showed off her ribbons... which extended all the way from the front of the room to the back. It was a truly epic roll of ribbonage. She claimed victory over Barrowman and said she would sign the thing and auction it off. Barrowman was speechless for a half a second, but then they just kept trading quips. It was glorious. By the way, I did get in line to ask Barrowman a question, but never got to the front. My question was going to be about his Animal Hospital show, since no one else had mentioned it.

Following Barrowman was Tate on the main stage, and she was as lovely as it's possible to get. She told great stories, but couldn't answer a lot of questions about Doctor Who. I didn't have any real questions for her, so I stayed in my seat. She was able to get through her entire line of questioners, because she answered questions and didn't go off onto a tangent for 20 minutes each time.


I'm not entirely sure what we did right after Tate, but at some point hubby and I visited the Burger Babes food truck for dinner. They had been there since lunch, so they were actually running out of food. We ordered two "She's Smokin" burgers and, to be clear, I wasn't expecting much. But they were incredibly good. It was one of the best burgers I've ever had. I have low tastes in general, but these were enough to spoil you for any regular hamburger.


Sometime after dinner we got in line for the Masquerade. As it turned out, it wasn't a full house, but we had fun in the third row. I made paper frogs while we waited in line and gave them out to people. And the host, Tony Lee, used me as an example when he came back with the results. It's a long story, but yes, I was dying of thirst in there.

The Masquerade itself was excellent, with people in the "novice" category making me wonder if they need to add a "pre-novice" category. Or maybe a "I suck at costuming but I'm enthusiastic" category. One of the funnier bits was Queen Victoria with the Doctor, Rose and a Werewolf doing Scooby-Doo style running behind her. The folks who dressed as badge ribbons also were a big hit.

Halftime at the Masque was Paul Cornell hosting a "game show" between comic book creators and actors. Three on each side. Two told lies and one told the truth about some subject. It was really difficult to tell the truth from the lies in many cases. I will never look at Christopher Jones the same way.

Hubby and I got back late to our hotel, and fell into a lovely sleep. No screaming ladies that night.

Sunday morning we got ourselves together and packed our bags for the plane and for the day. We checked out, had a very light breakfast, and then off to the Marriott for the rest of the con. I ended up in one room for the whole morning, sitting in on a panel about the Master and the many folks who have portrayed the character, a panel about social commentary in Doctor Who (and its history going back to the original series), and a panel about the Titans Comics. Then it was my turn, and I did a panel about the Twitch livestream and enjoyed myself immensely while worrying the entire time that I was being too pushy and taking too much time.

After our panel, the Verity Podcast crew came in an did "In Defense Of..." which is fun. I had a couple of friends go up and compete. After that, I literally lobby-conned it, sitting in the lobby until it was time to catch the shuttle to the airport.





On our shuttle to the airport was director Rachel Talalay, who continued the con until we reached the Alaska/Air Canada terminal. Once there, we wandered until we were directed to the right place by a sympathetic security guard, and got in line for screening. It went WAY faster than in SeaTac... I mean, there was practically no line at all. Then we found our gate. We learned the Western Washington University Lacrosse team was going to be on our flight, and we had burgers at a place called Habit Burger. Not as good as the food truck burgers, but still tasty.

I was allowed to pre-board again, and asked for a little water. My hand was shaking so badly that I spilled it when Eric handed it to me - all over Eric's seat. Poor guy. I had a very very bad flight, even with the Dramamine. I listened to podcasts again, but they didn't stop the pain and the horrible sensations and the feeling of imminent death. Every bit of turbulence was the end of the world and every strange sound was death creeping up on us. I was so incredibly relieved when we landed that I almost cried.

Soon after, my sister came and we were at my folks' house again, re-united with Inkwell the Magical Cat, who had begun to believe we were gone for good and was getting depressed. Late the next morning we set off for home across Snoqualmie, and I collapsed for the rest of the day.

It was a good convention. I am still worn out, but not as badly as I feared I would be. But then, I slept for something like 15 hours once we got home. Hubby-Eric has con crud, and I'm sure it will reach me eventually (if the sleep didn't stave it off). And both of us want to attend Gallifrey One next year, if at all possible.

Conventions and problematic people

While I have been peripherally involved in conventions and convention planning for years, I am NOT a convention organizer and could not ever handle the pressure of such events. That's been brought home to me again by a couple of recent incidents in fandom.

Let's start with the big one. A writer known for harassing people online said he was going to attend Worldcon and, among other potential acts, violate the rules by wearing a bodycam into a private suite. The Worldcon committee, after hearing about his threats, determined the threats were both believable and violated their rules and banned him from attending the convention.

He's now suing Worldcon.

I think he hasn't got a chance in the case, but I don't know California law, and I don't know what sort of lawyer he's got (although a couple people implied his lawyer is as pathetic as he is). I do know that the Worldcon committee has to deal with this nonsense as the convention is getting closer, and it's definitely a nuisance and planned to disrupt the convention as much as possible. In short, he's bullying the convention to cause a disruption after threatening to cause a disruption at the con. These are the actions of a sociopath, and not a person any fan should be comfortable associating with.

I don't see how suing the convention furthers any reasonable goal he might have. There is now no chance that any reasonable convention committee will ever invite him as a guest, as he's proven he's willing to file nuisance lawsuits against conventions. So if he's invited as a guest and doesn't like something about the convention? Potential lawsuit. No way any sane person will invite him again. And it also torpedoes his odds of being allowed to attend other conventions, because who wants a toxic, convention-suing guy at their con? No one.

Nothing good can come of this.

Let's move on to another incident. That of John Ringo and his momentary guestness at ConCarolina. It was announced a couple of days ago that Ringo would be a guest at ConCarolina, and a number of folks immediately objected and withdrew their own attendance because of things Ringo has said and some themes of his writing.

I admit, I own a number of Ringo's books in digital format from when I purchased many of Baen's ebooks. I know I've read at least one, but I honestly cannot remember any titles or plotlines of any of them. I think his writing didn't appeal to me, or I considered it filler to read while waiting for something good. I don't know. But his works clearly lacked impact and didn't connect with me. At the time I purchased them, I wasn't aware of his ... opinions on women. If I had been, I would not have purchased anything by him.

That said, ConCarolina has now disinvited Ringo, which isn't going to make the problem go away for the convention. In fact, it's a very bad sign after a similar incident hurt Odyssey Con last year, and several invited guests withdrew. As a person involved in conventions, these stories break my heart. It's so hard to get a convention going, so hard to figure out costs and then who to invite. And if you invite someone who is problematic, even if you are unaware of the problems, you might sink your entire effort.

It's enough to make a person swear off conventions. Certainly enough to make being on a concom a dangerous and scary job. I admit I admire those members of fandom who volunteer their time for such a thankless task even more after learning about these various problems.

Evening Thoughts

I fell yesterday afternoon. It was after 4 p.m. and Eric was just getting home. I was headed toward the staircase, for what reason I do not remember clearly. I tripped, possibly on my own feet, and hit the ground before my brain had registered that I was falling. My left knee and right arm hit first, I think, followed quickly by my face (the right side) and the rest of me. Based on the pattern of pain, the left knee and right shoulder took the brunt of the fall. My right arm was wrenched, and my elbow is sore. My left knee has an impressive bruise starting to develop. The knee itself feels like I twisted it a bit... not too much, but enough to cause pain. I was sure I would get a fat lip or black eye out of it, but my face hasn't swollen at all.

For almost a minute after I fell, I couldn't think or move. Eric came in the house, and I tried to call him. He heard something, because a moment later he was trying to help me. I don't believe I lost consciousness, but I really hurt myself. Inkwell was even worried about me. It took several minutes before I was able to get up, and then I downed some painkiller, which seemed to work to keep me from moaning the remainder of the night.

Today I've been hobbling around, trying not to go back to bed and sleep it off. I wanted to get things done, but somehow got caught up in watching a stream of the Eurovision contest (that is one bizarre thing). I suppose resting and Eurovision were just the thing...

So, Eurovision. The winning song was "1944" from the Ukraine. It's about the deportation of the Crimean Tatars in by the Soviets in the 1940s, and might have been a little too political for the contest. But it was allowed anyway, and beat Australia in a nail-biter of a final. Personally, I really liked the guys from Cyprus. The Russian song was just okay, but the graphics and performance were fairly mind-bending, and in my case stomach-churning.

However, the absolute best thing in the contest was "Love Love Peace Peace" by the hosts:

Ok, how about some other links?

I've been thinking about my tendency to drop the opening pronoun of sentences, and thought it might be a side-effect from learning Spanish. This article argues it's just the natural progression of language.

I need to reread this article about identity, because my first reading couldn't have possibly gotten all the nuance out of it. The article calls on Miss Marple to explain some of the ways identity has changed.

How many of these seven books that will probably never be printed again have you read?

Boing Boing has a 360 degree video of a tornado. You can actually drag the video around with your mouse to see all around the car and see what's happening in front or behind them as they storm-chase. Amazingly, at one point the chasers jump out of their vehicles to take photos. It's a testament to the insanity of the human race.

Ever heard of a mail-order home? Altas Obscura shares a tale from Reddit of one. Really cool... and some of the Reddit comments are impressive too.

If any man tries to, ever, make me wear high heeled shoes, I will beat him over the head with said shoes. I do NOT wear them, and will not wear them. Ever. Period. End of story. That said, a woman was dismissed from a job because she refused to go out and buy high heeled shoes to wear. That's prompted a bit of a backlash, including a petition to parliament. More at MeFi.

I suddenly have even less desire to fly the unfriendly skies. Apparently the TSA is even worse than it had been, which is impressive, honestly.

If anyone bothered to read my fiction piece on Friday, do you want more, or should I stick with non-fiction?

* * *
A comic con has shot itself in the foot, rather dramatically. Thanks to the magic of screencapping, the whole thing can be read even though the convention took down the post. In short, the official convention Facebook page complained about cosplayers wanting a free ride to the con with a goofy little post showing off a pretend conversation between a cosplayer and the convention. While I absolutely agree with the convention that no one at all should expect a free ride to a con, the message is a teeny-tiny bit unprofessional. Still, not the end of the world, right?

Wrong.

When people complained, the convention doubled-down: instead of apologizing for a post that offended some of their audience, they made things worse, calling some cosplayers "hot chicks in almost no clothes", "over sexual models" and "boob models". The organizer who is posting, who identifies himself as "Jim", also makes the claim that professional cosplayers aren't even fans of the people they are dressed as... in other words, he played the fake-geek-girl card.

Throughout it all, he's completely oblivious why his statements about some portion of cosplayers might possibly be offensive to the cosplayer community at large. Then he even claims he never called anyone names - forgetting his earlier "hot chicks" and "models" comments, apparently.

Jim also decides he's the one who gets to determine which cosplay is "real", saying the people he's deriding aren't real cosplayers, so no one should be offended. *facepalm* Seriously dude? You are going to man-splain cosplay to people? Really?

This naturally made a few people look closer at the convention, and guess what they found? A guest was announced before she had a contract with them... if they'd asked at all. This is a serious no-no in con circles. Conventions who do it cannot be trusted. It's one thing to have a contract then have a guest cancel. It's quite another to promote your con with a guest who hasn't yet been signed.

I hate to see any convention go up in smoke, particularly over something as stupid as a social media blunder. Hopefully the guest announcement was just miscommunication as well. But not matter the cause, this con has some work to do before their actual event to earn back goodwill... and if they don't try, then it's pretty clear they deserve whatever negativity they get.

And to all the con-runners out there: Social Media is a minefield. Do NOT post jokes that insult anyone on them. Someone will always be offended. Always. Just don't. You are a business, play it safe. If you have to rant, get a personal page. And, should you find yourself in a hole, stop digging. Apologize for causing offense and learn from the experience; don't defend your actions because you will continue to insult people.

Whew... I'm going to watch Peace Peace Love Love again to cheer up after that rant...

NYCC Cosplay

Visit Bleeding Cool for some great photos of NYCC Cosplay this weekend. I'm particularly amused by this perfect couple:

Winkie Newsletter Convention Report - Day Three

This one was very short, because Sunday was a half-a-day of convention.

Winkie Newsletter Convention Report - Day Two

Second verse, same as the first. A little bit louder and a little bit worse...

Winkie Newsletter Convention Report - Day One

I'm going to just cut and paste the newsletter as I sent it to subscribers late last night. But I'm going to put the whole thing behind the cut. Enjoy!

Linkdump

The blob is causing the strange weather in Washington state. Also, it's NOT simply global warming run rampant.

Aquaman? Seriously, copy-editing is an important skill. I feel sorry for the writer, who probably had little to do with the headline.

Yes, I admit it. I bought the new Lois McMaster Bujold novella literally the first day it was available. And yes, I've read it. I will read it again soon. It's very good. It will be on my Hugo nominees list.

I'd like to get my hubby a copy of this role playing game. Sadly, I can't get to Sasquan.

Ah, the infamous Max Headroom hack, right in the middle of one of my favorite episodes of Doctor Who, The Horror of Fang Rock.

I'm delighted by the Eisner Award Winners, particularly Beasts of Burden and Little Nemo: Return to Slumberland. Generally speaking, the list of nominees is a good "recommended reading" list, as well.

I must say, I'm looking forward to this crossover, and I really hope Jeff Parker gets to write it.

The reaction of Ursula Vernon to being put on the World Fantasy shortlist is lovely, but the best line is definitely "three times--there had been rum". Congrats Ursula! Jackalope Wives deserves the nomination!

Adam Savage had a special guest cosplayer with him at San Diego this year:

In Honor of San Diego Comic-Con

A TRIP TO THE CON Oh Lord, won't you buy me a trip to the con? I want the exclusives before they are gone. I want to go filking with my costume on. Oh Lord, won't you buy me a trip to the con? Oh Lord, won't you buy me a new Sci-Fi show? I really miss Firefly, I think you should know. I bet if you're helping they'll give it a go. Oh Lord, won't you buy me a new Sci-Fi show? Oh Lord won't you buy me an anthology? With my favorite writers, writing for me. I love all the stories, they fill me with glee Oh Lord, won't you buy me an anthology? Everybody... Oh Lord, won't you buy me a trip to the con? I want the exclusives before they are gone. I want to go filking with my costume on. Oh Lord, won't you buy me a trip to the con? with apologies to Janis Joplin.

Hugo Blatherings

So I decided to go ahead and vote in the 2017 site selection for Worldcon. In order to do so, I had to purchase an Advance Supporting Membership, which not only allows me to vote for the site selection, but also gives me a supporting membership in the convention in 2017, no matter which of the four locations it ends up at. That's pretty cool.

Anyway, the four choices are Washington, D.C.; Nippon (Japan); Montreal, Quebec, Canada; and Helsinki, Finland. I don't have an issue with any of the places, but I do happen to know someone working on the Montreal bid, so I put Montreal in first place. I don't think there's any possibility of me making it to any of them, regardless of who wins, but it's nice to have a say in the vote.

After voting for 2017's location, that left a gap in my World Science Fiction Society membership for 2016... So I went ahead and bought a supporting membership to MidAmeriCon II, which is the 2016 Worldcon. I would love to go, as the guest list impresses me and I've always wanted to visit Kansas City for personal reasons. However, like Sasquan (which would be much easier to get to), I'm not going to be able to afford the trip, hotel or time off (It's killing me now to know that Sasquan is a mere three-hour drive away and I cannot go. The horror! The horror!).

Still, it means I'm going to be part of Worldcon for at least the next two and a half years. I'll be voting in two more Hugos after this one. And I'll be trying to actively look for things to nominate, as well. I'll be checking out Renay's Hugo Spreadsheet of Doom and the Hugo Nominees 2016 Wikia regularly once I've finished with this year's packet to look for suggestions to read. I've already got a couple of things I plan to nominate, and a few more I haven't finished reading yet but I think might make my list. I'll post a few lists of possible nominations as I go, and once the deadline for nominations has passed, I might even post my actual nomination form.

The round-ups at File 770 have slowed down, mostly because there just isn't that much to talk about the Hugos right now. Everyone is busy going through the packets or have finished voting and are just waiting for the convention. I fully expect another fake outrage to be manufactured soon, but I can't guess what direction it will come from. I've been continuing to read David Gerrold on Facebook... he's the guy that got me into this whole kerfuffle in the first place. I don't think I would have cared as much if not for him.

Personally, I've got another string of reviews prepped for this week. I haven't seen all the movies yet, but I've started my reviews of them. This week I'll have posts on the Related Work category, Dramatic Presentation, Short Form category and the 'zines. I may have my write-up on the Novels category done by Friday, in which case I'll post that as well (and Denise, I'll post the round-up with the answer to your question on Saturday if I do that). If I can get through all five this week, I'll have four more categories to go: The Campbell, Dramatic Long Form, and the two editor categories. The editor ones will be the hardest, based on the reading/checking I've done so far. I still have more reading to do for the Campbell award and two more movies to watch for Dramatic Long Form.

The Hugo nominations are due about the time I'll be headed to San Diego for Oz Con International (the big reason I don't have any money and can't take any more time off for Sasquan). At this moment I'm committed to attending three conventions each year: The Oz con, Emerald City Comicon and Anglicon. The addition of Anglicon has made it difficult to get enough time off to go to all of them, and I guess adding Worldcon to the mix is too much to ask.

Anglicon: The Regeneration Report

No Sunday review this week because I've just been too busy to get through the latest shipment of comics. So instead, here's my report of Anglicon.

To say that Anglicon weekend was amazing does not even come close to how it felt to me. I'm still reeling from everything that happened. This post will probably be too detailed, but I hope to remember as much as possible in the future... and so, after the cut...

Winkie Convention... Photos...

While I'm not a fan of flying, the view can be pretty good.


This little guy was extremely happy, but also knew how to get complete attention of adults around him.
All he had to do was scream. Piercingly.


Con Chair David Maxine (right) gets up close-and-personal with the Wicked Witch of the West as played by Kurt Raymond.
Note the Morris dancers in the background. They were cool.

Winkie Convention Report... Coming Home...

Sunday morning had the audacity to come far too early. It always does when you are attending a convention. After an extremely disappointing overpriced breakfast ($4 for instant oatmeal? Are you kidding me?!? And he didn't even give me the flavor I asked for! Bah!) we headed back to the room and packed up. Eric took charge of checking us out while I took charge of finding a place to stow my luggage. I put my bag in registration while finalizing the day's newsletter, then left the bag there until the programming got down to a single track at 1:30 p.m. in the main ballroom. Eric took his bag to the lobby to stow.

I started my day in my jail, but with the swap shop gone, Eric let me wander the dealers room while he kept an eye on the art show for a bit. I talked with most of the dealers and asked how their show had gone. Pretty much all of them were enthusiastic, saying they'd sold a lot and done well. Artist William Stout said he'd sold more at Winkie Con than he did at San Diego Comicon. He also said that was, in part, due to the way SDCC sells its tickets now. Comic book fans aren't getting the opportunities to even buy tickets, so they aren't coming to the show.

Anyway, I got to talk a bit with my friend Anna who runs Illusive Comics and Games in Santa Clara. She also had a good convention, selling a lot of Oz Tarot decks. I also talked with the fan tables set up for other conventions, and started getting a lot of advice on what to do when Eric chairs the convention in 2016.

I returned to the prison to let Eric out and stayed there until artists came and got their works. We were able to leave before noon, closing up the almost empty room behind us, and Eric and I got lunch (expensive hotel sandwiches) and ate in the hospitality suite.

I finished out the convention in the main ballroom, talking notes on some sheets of paper I got from our room and, eventually, jumping in to say something. I'm afraid I volunteered myself for another mailing list task, but it shouldn't be too hard to pull off (famous last words). I took a lot of e-mails to add to the newsletter list, writing them down and hoping I could read my own handwriting when it came time to enter them online.

The final panel was an "onions and roses" type thing, where people were asked for feedback. The biggest complaint from fans who spent 30 years at Asilomar was the food situation.

Ok, I'm going to back up a bit. The Winkie Convention was originally held at people's houses. It then got big enough that it moved to the Cambria Pines Lodge for four years in the early 1970s. It outgrew that venue and moved to the Hotel Wawona, in Yosemite, California for nine years. The first Asilomar Winkie Convention was held in 1984, and every one after that until this year was held at the Asilomar Conference Grounds in Pacific Grove, California. The only year missed was 2000 because there was no Winkie Convention held that year. In 2000, all the Oz conventions combined into a general convention held at the Indiana Memorial Union and known as "The Centennial Convention" by Oz fans.

Now, after 30 years in the same place, you might guess that people were used to the venue. People loved Asilomar. Heck, I loved Asilomar and dearly miss it. But Asilomar, which is a state park in a cash-strapped state, had to keep raising its prices. And some fans were simply getting priced out of the convention. Attendance was down, and the convention risked fading away, like the other regional conventions already had.

This year's chair, David Maxine, didn't want to see that happen. Way back in 2009 he started to work on saving Winkie Con. One thing he did was get me to volunteer to edit the Winkie Newsletter and to write convention reports at the con that go out during the convention itself. He also started to use social media to push the convention, creating Facebook pages for the con. And this year he moved the venue to the Town and Country Resort in San Diego because the cost of Asilomar is just way too high.

One reason for the high cost is the food. When the con was held at Asilomar, every meal is included in the price. This made the base price for the convention for a single person more than $350 for the entire con... and that's without paying any of the convention's costs.

The hard choice was made by David, and agreed to by many fans, to not provide meals during the convention. At the final panel, at least one fan had a very strong negative opinion about that, saying that the convention just isn't the same without that time to sit and chat with people you don't know while at meals.

And he's right. But so was David. It's a no-win situation. If you want people to attend, you can't have the whole thing be more than $400 a ticket. But Winkie Con was unique among conventions I attend because of that bonding time with people at meals.

So I boldly got on stage at the final panel and said I would create a discussion list so we can work out ways to solve the problem. There will actually be two discussion lists, I think. The main one for venting and general discussion and a smaller, possibly moderated, one for people who will actually do things at the convention: a con-com type list. We'll see how it works out in the end.

As the convention drew to a close, I was delighted to be told by several people, including Bjo Trimble, that they would be sure to contribute to the newsletter. Then Eric and I had to carry a box of about a dozen copies of his book along with all my luggage to the lobby, which was about a mile away across the distance of the resort. We stopped a golf-cart jitney within sight of the lobby and the nice bellhop drove us the rest of the way. Then we had to repack our luggage to fit those dozen books in. Then another nice bellhop took us to a bridge that led to the green line platform.

From there on out we had to walk while carrying heavy bags, which was only really nasty because the blisters on my hands and the tops of my feet were still hurting. Eric found the elevator up to the platform and as we waited for the next train, a woman ran across from the opposite platform and asked if it was too late to join the newsletter. I took her email address and she ran back just in time for her train.

This time the green line was not crowded. We found seats and didn't have to give them up. We got to the Santa Fe station and got off then walked to a bus stop. It had a sign to text a number to find out when the next bus was coming, so I did. It said the stop was not in use. We hauled our luggage the other direction to another stop. This time when I texted it said the bus was coming in 10 minutes.

An older gentleman in a wheelchair, holding a guitar and talking to himself, was also at the stop. He got on the bus, which took some effort from the driver. As the bus left the stop, the man asked where the bus was headed. When he heard "airport" he said he needed to get off. So at the next regular stop he did. The driver did not roll his eyes or anything, just patiently did his job. I have to salute him for it.

Once at the airport we stopped at the commuter terminal and picked up a bunch of guys with lots of luggage. One of them paid the fare for himself and another guy entirely in small change, one piece at a time. By the time he finished, I was starting to get anxious about actually getting to our terminal in time. Fortunately, I didn't have enough time on the trip back to start having any anxiety attacks. We were rushing enough that moments of panic just couldn't get through.

Ours was actually the next stop, and we got off the bus gratefully, but then had to haul the heavy bags quite a ways down the outside of the building to get in, then over to a place we could print our boarding passes, then back to security. The San Diego security line was slower, but the directions were much more useful. This time I didn't get stopped, although Eric didn't pass the naked scanner and had to get a patdown on one leg that showed something, even though he had emptied his pockets.

Once in the terminal we were lucky enough to find seats, then it was the waiting game again. A youth group was being entirely too cheerful. The only restaurant was full and too expensive. The snack bars were way too expensive. I found a couple of power bars my mom had given me in Seattle before we left, and that helped to tide us over until we got on the plane THANKS MOM!!!. I also called my mom to let her know we wouldn't be getting dinner on the way, and maybe she could have something for us? She said she'd make French Toast. It seemed like a strange choice while sitting in the terminal in San Diego, but I said, "great".

While we waited, a toddler in a stroller arrived at the terminal. He was cute as a button and as loud as a battleship on red alert. His adults, three of them, did their level best to keep him from screaming, but he screamed anyway. I hoped he would be better behaved on the plane itself. Ha.

We finally got to board. Eric and I were a bit late in the process, and we ended up in the very last row. Right behind the cute toddler and his three adults. The toddler was not screaming in pain or fright, he was screaming to get attention and it worked. Unfortunately, he had plenty of screams for the entire flight. Every ten minutes or so he'd have a breakdown and start to scream. It was difficult, because I was trying to sleep. That didn't work real well.

Flying at night is different than flying during the day. Out my window there was a huge moon looming. I was able to see a city below and use the in-flight Southwest website to figure out it was Reno. There was some turbulance, that made me visualize the wing snapping off... I had to stop looking out the window at how the wing bounced in the air. Landing wasn't too bad, and then we were home.

Well, in Seattle at least.

We were the last passengers off the plane and we hauled our increasingly heavy carryons (funny how gravity pulls them harder the longer you carry them) to the departure gate, going to the last area, before I called my mom. Then we watched as people were picked up and dropped off. There was a large SUV that dropped off what seemed to be an entire household-worth of stuff, including a lot that looked like it ought to have been shipped. There was a woman who was extremely irate with her husband for driving past her. He said, "You know the rules, if there's nowhere to pick you up, I drive until I find a place and you have to walk!" She didn't seem very happy, but at least she had rolling luggage. There was a taxi driver who sat there waiting despite the frequent reminders that you can be fined for waiting in a loading and unloading zone. He was there the entire time we were waiting.

Finally mom got to us, we loaded up, and off to my folks place we went. Mom was good on her promise and we had French Toast for dinner with a lot of orange juice before we headed upstairs to bed. Inkwell the cat tried to figure out who we were, then why we were back. He clung to my ankle for awhile, refusing to let me out of his sight, even when I went into the bathroom. Clearly he missed me a bit.

I was able to get some computing done at my folks house, including my final con report, which I sent out Monday as we were resting from the trip. Annoyingly, Seattle was about 20 degrees Farenheit hotter than San Diego, and my folks don't have air conditioning (few people in Seattle do) so it was a sweaty sort of rest. We stayed that night for my father's birthday party and to see my sister's return from her two-month trip to New Zealand.

This morning we were planning to go to UW with my sister, but she was too exhausted to make the trip so instead we took off for home before lunchtime. Inkwell was extremely displeased to be placed in his carrier again. I think he believed he was going to stay at my folks' place from now on, so having to travel again was a shock for him. We stopped in Cle Elum for lunch, although the useful exit was closed so we had to backtrack. We had cheap burgers and shakes at Dairy Queen before hitting the road again.

I slept on the second leg of the journey while Eric drove. Inkwell started to sing me to sleep... well, meow endlessly to let us know he was unhappy. I slept through some of it. Then we were home to air conditioning and a soft bed. Now to rest, and hope I'm ready for what's already shaping up to be an extremely tough day of work on Thursday.

Winkie Convention Report... The Con Itself...

Once hubby-Eric and I had washed off the saltwater and sand and gotten dressed again, we went to find the convention registration. The Town and Country Resort in San Diego is big, but the area for the convention was limited to a fairly small chunk of it. We were able to find registration without too much difficulty and signed in.

Before we had a chance to breathe, Eric was told he was needed for this and for that and he ended up setting up for the first hour or so. At some point we got lunch, overpriced sandwiches at the deli, and then I spent pretty much the rest of the day at the Swap Shop, which was also the research table (writing and art show).

I have to say that it was a really disappointing way to start the convention. I don't much like sitting in a room with no one else for several hours. Although people visited with some regularity to check out the swap and the art show, I felt trapped and lonely. Worse, I ended up with the same job the next day. It was unpleasant. I missed just about every panel for the entire convention.

Now, I'm not a huge Oz fan, but I did want to see a couple of things. In particular, there was a panel in which Kurt Raymond turned himself into the Wicked Witch, and I wanted to see it. But I was a room guard the entire time. This will have to change for next year. Fortunately, there is no swap table run by my husband next year, nor will he be involved in the research table, so hopefully those duties won't fall to me.

At 5 p.m. I was freed from the room to go to the opening reception. There was food and people chatting with one another and generally a good time. There were also Morris dancers, which was strange but fun. The Doctor Who fans among the crowd (there are a lot, many fans love both Oz and Who) were joking about being reminded of "The Daemons" and a particularly memorable scene with sinister Morris dancers. I, personally, think that any style of dancing that involves hitting with sticks is pretty neat.

One of our friends, Eduard, didn't have a ticket for the meal. I hunted down the chair and asked if that had supposed to happen. David (the chair) immediately came over and gave him a ticket. Eduard was playing The Shaggy Man in the play on Saturday night, and certainly was enough of a member of the convention to be fed in the opening reception!

I was able to sit in the back of the evening program with my computer and write up the entire con report for the day. I also started to put together the paper version that would be published and distributed around the convention Saturday morning. The job was not tough: I generally write a LOT more in a day than I did at the convention. But I was distracted by the program itself, which I was enjoying (particularly Kurt Raymond's Q&A session as the Wicked Witch).

I had limited internet connectivity in the ballroom and was able to post the blog about the travel day from the room. But mostly I didn't have a connection, which was annoying. WiFi is almost as important in a hotel now as water service, and more appreciated by many.

Eric and I didn't even try to stick around for the afterparty. I was still in pain from the kayak trip and needed to send out the first con report to newsletter subscribers. We headed up to the room where I finalized the con report and sent it out. Then to bed, and the first day of the convention was over.

Saturday for us started with a run to get breakfast then back to the room to get dressed for the costume contest. I had forgotten I was dressing up. I became the Rose Princess Ozga in a very simple costume, basically a hat and a long dress. I did some posing and sweated heavily in the bright San Diego morning. A reporter asked me some questions which I answered almost too frankly (I was quoted, correctly, in the ensuing article, second page). After the show itself, I couldn't wait to get out of the dress because it was so hot. I had a pink shirt and knit pants on underneath, and so I told anyone who asked that I was Ozga in casual clothes.

I met a very nice couple dressed as Aunt Em and Uncle Henry and chatted with them a bit. They were fun and interesting and had lots to say. I later learned that they were Bjo and John Trimble, of Star Trek fandom fame. I got to talk with Bjo a couple of other times during the con. She's one sharp lady.

After the costume contest I was cruelly locked up in the Swap Shop room again for many hours. Any time anyone walked in I asked them about the panels they'd been to and what they thought of the con so far. I had to do something to be able to write the con report.

Eric brought me lunch, and gave me a chance to go down to the dealers room, but overall I was stuck in that room for entirely too long. I wanted to go swimming in one of the resorts three pools. I wanted to attend some panels. I wanted to see the Judy Garland costumes. Instead I sat in a room doing my best to get rid of everything left on the swap table. By the end of the day it was all pretty much gone.

The room again closed at 5 p.m. and I again shot out of there like an animal freed from a cage. The evening banquet was pleasant, with about 140 people eating. Eric and I got seats at a table that had some sunlight from the only outside doors in the room shining on it. A couple of folks across the table from us were getting sunlight in their eyes, so I quietly asked one of the servers if anything could be done to help them. A short while later one of the staff brought out a tablecloth and put it over the door that was letting the light in, sparing our friends' eyes from more sunlight and allowing them to see everyone else around the table. We applauded.

The winners of the various contests were announced at the banquet, and I wrote them down like a good reporter for the newsletter. I confess that I didn't do as thorough a job as I would have for my newspaper. If I was writing professionally, I would have taken notes on the entire ceremony. As it was, I still managed to catch quite a bit.

After the dinner it was time for the play. I got down there and asked if I could again set up my computer and hide in a corner. The director and Eric Shanower allowed it. I had far from the best seat in the house, but frankly I enjoyed my spot a lot. During the slow portions of the play, which there were a couple, I wrote up the day's report. However, I was totally into the play, so I didn't get nearly as much writing done as I had hoped.

Let me take a moment to tell you about The Tik-Tok Man of Oz. The 100-year-old play was funed by a Kickstarter campaign and only staged once, at Winkie Con this year. It was, how shall we say it, a very limited one-off event. It was also incredibly good. While the plot was pathetic, the music, which is what the whole thing was really about preserving and presenting, was fantastic. There were 25 musical numbers interspersed with some talking. The puns were lovely. The performances were glowing. In short, it was excellent. I'm glad I saw it.

Again, we were too tired after the show to go to the party, so we headed back to the room where I blogged about the kayak trip, sent out the newsletter, then went to bed.

...to be concluded...

Winkie Convention Report... Kayaking...

Hubby-Eric and I got up Friday morning about our usual time then wandered down to get breakfast at one of the restaurants. The very helpful server managed to get us a decent deal that satisfied us both. Yay!

At 7:30 a.m. we were at the pool waiting for other folks to go to La Jolla beach for a kayak tour. Eventually we got all sorted out and found the vehicle we were going in, then got to our destination in time to be outfitted with lifejackets and helmets. We were forbidden to bring our own non-waterproof cameras, which turned out to be a good thing. We could have rented a waterproof camera, but that wasn't an option for us due to a funding shortage.

The tour guides also recommended getting a lanyard to secure glasses to your face. Another Oz fan kindly bought me one. Thank goodness.

I was wearing a swimsuit with a t-shirt over it and sweats. We walked to the beach, about four blocks total. I was wearing birkenstocks. I really wish I had good beach/pool shoes for it, but we were able to leave our birks on the beach. I eventually also took off the sweats because I knew they would get wet no matter how good I was in the kayak once I saw how deep people had to wade to push off across the incoming tide.

Eric and I decided to share a kayak with Eric in the back and me in the front. Once into the surf, the tide was difficult but not horrid. The water temperature was bearable, not really cold though not warm. Eric got in and I tried to get in, but *splash* into the surf I went. I had to reset my glasses on my face. Thank you, Gina, for the lanyard! We tried again and stalled on the beach. Our third try again resulted in me taking a dive into the water.

By this time most of the others were launched, so the guides decided to help us. We got out a bit deeper this time before turning too far into the waves and becoming swamped. So, the guide tried again and, again, we got fairly far out before getting a solid dunking. Four freakin' times. Twice I went entirely under water. I am a decent swimmer and unafraid of getting wet, but at the start of a tour that seems a bit excessive.

The guide recognized that something wasn't working between Eric and I on the kayak, which he had earlier jokingly called a divorce boat. So he put us each in our own kayaks. This time the launch(es) went perfectly. Clearly, hubby-Eric and I are not kayak-compatible.

Sadly, once in a single kayak, I had to paddle with some energy to keep up with the main group. Sadly, this was not easy. I am far more out-of-shape than I realized. In addition, my wet hands did not handle the paddle as well as possible, leading in short order to painful blisters.

Eric and I got to the main group where it clustered outside the surf line. Then the entire group headed toward the caves that had inspired L. Frank Baum in some of his Oz and non-Oz writings. We clustered again nearer the caves while another group entered, listening to the guides tell bad jokes and sometimes interesting factoids.

Eventually we entered the caves, two kayaks at a time. Two of the three guides entered the water to swim and lead the boats into the cave. They couldn't lead us through the cave entirely due to the pounding surf on the other side. It was already dangerous enough in the cave, although magical in many ways. Eric and I entered the cave together, each on our own kayak. There were baby sea lions playing within arm's reach, and when the tide swelled the kayaks rose and nearly hit the roof of the cave.

It was dim in the cave, and there were still drops of water on my glasses obscuring some of my sight, but overall it was a neat experience, though it lasted such a short time.

Next came more paddling. Lots more paddling. A couple more clusters and we headed back to shore. They sent us in one at a time. I was not the first in, but instead watched a couple boats go in before me. The trick with an open ocean kayak is that you basically surf it back into the beach. Yeah, you are sitting, but it's very much a ride once the waves catch you.

Well, in front of me I watched as a couple of kayaks skewed as they got into the waves and swamped. I'm not sure what order we went in, but there were maybe four or five before me. As I came in I was utterly unafraid. In fact, the only thing I wanted was to get off that kayak as my rear was in pain and I was exhausted from the paddling. I figured another dunk would be an improvement on my situation.

So I went in as straight as I could manage, but like the others my boat started to skew as I got closer to shore and the waves started to break over it. Now, let me flash back a bit to when I was younger and healthier. One summer at camp we set out into an artificial lake that was less than three feet deep in two-person canoes. The goal of the game we played was to ram, bump or whatever in order to flip your opponent's canoe without your own boat flipping. I spent a lot of time in the water that summer, but I also learned ways to stop a boat from going over. Enough dunkings and you start to get the hang of balancing a boat, which I think was the point of the games (along with teaching us to not fear going under).

Anyway, back to Friday morning... I am surfing into the beach and my boat is starting to skew, which I've witnessed several other boats ahead do just before they dumped their passengers into the water. I can feel the movement and I just... adjusted... I leaned back and to the side, popped the oar to the correct side purely by instinct and slid smoothly and upright onto the sand. Then I jumped out of the kayak with the paddle in my hand and pumped it into the air repeatedly from the sheer joy. Apparently, based on this experience, I might actually enjoy surfing to some degree.

As other boats were coming in, I pulled my kayak up a bit and then trudged up to return my paddle. After the burst of joy from the lovely landing, I again felt my exhaustion, the blisters on my hands and the pain in my rear padding from sitting on the hard boat. I did not watch the other kayaks come in, though in retrospect I probably would have enjoyed the sight of others getting dumped. One who did not have as pleasant a return to the beach as me was, in fact, Eric.

Anyway, after the group was all on the beach again, we retrieved our shoes and tromped to the public showers to wash off our feet. Then the walk back to the shop. I had enough sand and wet enough feet that I developed blisters in two spots on my feet and spent the rest of the day limping around the con, not my favorite problem. Fortunately, most of the hurt healed overnight. Sadly, not all. As I write this, my right foot continues to throb a bit thanks to a blister on top.

We somehow managed to get back to the hotel. The walk back to the room was too long... such walks always are if you have blisters on your feet. We got back to our room and showered the salt and sand off before starting the very busy first day of the convention.

...to be continued...

Winkie Convention Report... Travel Day...

Yesterday morning hubby-Eric and I got up nicely early and packed the car. The cat was the last item to be packed, and he protested mightily when I packed him into his travel carrier. We had a fairly calm drive over the mountains, getting to my folks' place by about 10 a.m. The scariest part of the trip was seeing the smoke near Ellensburg from one of the wildfires nearby. My mother was kind enough to take us out for an early lunch once Inkwell had vanished into his weekend home.

After lunch, we took care of a couple of last-minute things, then my Mom drove us down to the airport. It was a tad hair-raising traffic-wise, but we jumped out of her van into the departure zone with a quick "goodbye!"

Next it was security. It has been more than 14 years since I last flew, and I was terrified of dealing with all the new security crap. I've read a couple too many horror stories about it. So I was having tiny anxiety attacks, even though I knew there was nothing to be afraid of. The line was long and annoying, but moved fairly quickly. That was kind of difficult, as our bags were heavy and we couldn't set them down for long at a time.

Once to the front of the line, people put shoes in bins along with every other item they had on them. I took off my shoes and dumped them into the bin and, at the advice of another traveler, pulled my laptop computer from my carry on and put it in the bin with my shoes and purse. I went through the screening and heard someone say, "Whose computer is this?" I tried very hard not to panic, but sure enough, it was my computer. Apparently computers must be put into a bin separately from everything else. Ug.

Anyway, no nightmare ensued. They explained the rules to me and gave me my stuff back, and Eric and I got out of the line and found a place to sit and get shoes back on. It was... not as bad as I had feared. It wasn't a pleasant experience, but it wasn't the terror I had braced myself for.

Once inside, we wandered up to the gate and sat. They weren't even boarding the flight before ours yet, so we sat. And sat. And sat a bit longer. And watched the boarding process with interest. Then sat. And sat. And eventually we were able to board the plane. We were in the "third" boarding group, toward the end of our group. Sort of halfway through the entire process.

Eric had me pick the seat, and I located a spot about 14 rows back, into a row where a woman had an aisle seat. As it turned out, she and her husband, who was sitting in front of her, were traveling together with three children. The three young 'uns were very calm during the flight, unlike myself. Now, I wasn't exactly screaming... on the outside. In fact, I daresay that only poor Eric, who felt my iron grip on his knee when I got nervous, likely had a good idea of how... nervous... I was.

As usual, once in the air I was able to mostly forget about my panic and just enjoy the ride. I looked out the windows and spotted some of the wildfires burning in Washington and Oregon, but overall it was mostly pretty boring. I dared to pull out my phone and read a book on the Kindle app, risking severe air-sickness. Surprisingly, I felt ok and it passed the time nicely.

The descent into San Diego was earlier than I expected, we had made good time. I started to get... nervous... as the plane dropped. One of the young boys in the seats in front of us (three boys in two seats) started yelling happily, "We're landing! We're landing!" I started mumbling to myself and trying very hard not to panic.

Once the landing gear touched down I started to relax, even as the brakes were applied and the pressure pushed us forward. Apparently it's the drop from a height I'm afraid of, not crashing into something on the ground. I was oddly jubilant to be on the ground and practically squeaked at Eric. We got out of the plane in good order and stumbled through the airport.

Eric said we needed to catch a bus, and I found an information booth where we asked which one to take and Eric was reminded. Then we went out to catch a bus and, me being an idiot, I suggested we go over to where the courtesy shuttles were. Oops. No, that wasn't the place the city buses stopped. They stopped where we'd been before. We realized this when the bus pulled up. We hightailed it back over the skybridge and, amazingly, managed to catch the bus.

We got off at the Santa Fe station stop and hunted for the green line. HA! Plenty of trolleys, none of them green. Eventually I went into a coffee shop and asked, and sure enough we found the thing. It was PACKED. Jam-packed. At capacity. If I had known how packed it would be, I would have waited for the next train. There were tons of Chargers fans headed to the first pre-season game. Tons of them. Packing the train. It was horrible. I don't like crowds and I don't like flying and I had to deal with both in one day.

I kept my cool, such as I could, despite it being somewhere between 90 and 900 degrees on the train with all the bodies packed close. We got to our stop and stumbled off and I managed to sit down for a minute. All the nausea that hadn't happened on the plane suddenly rose and tackled me. I thought I was going to pass out. Eventually Eric figured out where the hotel was in relation to the trolley station, and we headed down off the platform and trudged to the hotel.

Which is the size of a small city. In fact, I firmly believe the footprint of the "hotel" is bigger than downtown Sunnyside. It was big enough that Eric left me sitting in a cool hallway and hunted for the lobby himself. It took him a long time. While he hunted, I rested to the point where I could see straight again. When he finally found me again we limped over to the building that we are staying in for the weekend.

Our original plan called for wandering off on the trolley lines and finding a San Diego restaurant to enjoy a quiet dinner. That was out the door with our/my exhaustion. Instead we studied the choices on-site and managed to find a hotel place that was tolerable, if expensive. I got a bacon cheeseburger, and a couple of Oz friends from previous conventions showed up and ate with us.

Back in the room, I fell asleep fairly quickly. Morning came way too soon. With it, the much anticipated kayaking trip!

...to be continued...

Anglicon Kickstarter Countdown... that's 5 pm Pacific Time...

Anglicon Kickstarter Countdown... Last chance, One day to go

Anglicon Kickstarter Countdown... oh my giddy aunt! Only Two days left!

Anglicon Kickstarter Countdown... Three to get ready