It seems like every time I’m at a convention, a thousand small, cool things happen. There’s usually a dozen or so that catch at me, and I think, “I’ll write about that in the blog when I get home.”
But then I actually get home, and I’m tired. Then the next day I need to do laundry, and answer about 800 e-mails, and make lusty snugglebunnies with my girlfriend.
And sometimes I write, too. I don’t know if y’all have heard, but there is a book that I’m supposed to be working on.
Typically, by the time I’m caught back up with my life, the memory of those cool little moments has faded somewhat. And so most of them just gently evaporate without ever being written down. Which is a shame, really.
So, instead of trying to weave all of these things into any sort of consistent narrative, I’m just going to bang a few of them out there. If you’re one of those literary folks, you can think of these as vignettes. If not, you can just pretend you’re reading a Vonnegut novel.
*****
I hate it when you’re at a crowded convention, and people stop in the middle of the hallway to talk to their four friends.
I know that one of the great joys of the convention is running into people and having a nice chat. I myself have been known to stop and talk with friends I haven’t seen in a long while. However, the center of the hallway is not the place for this conversation. A coffee shop? Yes. Over dinner at the Italian place? Certainly. How about over in the lounge there, on the couches? Why that sounds lovely too….
The hallway? No. That is not the right place for your reunion.
You see, the purpose of a hallway is to allow people to move from one place to another. That is its primary function. That is key to the platonic form of the hallway. If you stop in the hallway to talk, you are acting contrary to the fundamental nature of the hallway. This angers god and all clear-thinking individuals. Including me. Yes me, the person standing behind you. Yes me, the person standing motionless behind you in the hallway. Yes the person who looks as if he is thinking about howling with rage, punching you in the neck, then stepping over your doughy, twitching body.
In the interest of politeness and civilization, I resist my urges. However, I am tempted to do something. Like make buttons that read: “Hallways? Ask me how!” or a pamphlet entitled: “Hallways: a user’s guide for getting the fuck out of my way.”
*****
Bad – My cell phone went off during a panel.
Worse – I was one of the panelists.
Worst – I was the moderator.
P.S. Then it went off again.
*****
When did clocks become unfashionable? Am I the only one who remembers when you could go into a store and there would be a clock on the wall? You know, for the telling of time? Who decided that wasn’t cool anymore?
Yes I know most people have cell phones these days. But that shouldn’t make any difference. People used to have watches. You know what’s easier than digging around in your backpack, pulling out your phone, then opening it? Looking up on the fucking wall and seeing a clock there. That’s what.
*****
Fans are cool. My fans are cool to an exponentially higher degree. At gencon, after my first panel, a lovely young lady came up and handed me this….
This isn’t a terribly good reproduction of the watercolour, as I just snapped it with my digital camera. But the picture is obviously a likeness of me from when I dressed up like a gnome at gencon last year.
Did I ever post up a picture of that? I can’t remember. Here it is, just in case:
I never remember to take pictures of myself at these things, so I owe this picture to the fan who sent it along to me. When e-mailed it, she told me the story of how her daughter laughed when she saw it.
Her mom though that she was laughing at the obvious thing: a man dressed like a gnome. But apparently that wasn’t it at all. The little girl reached out, brushed at my face in the picture, and said, “I like his fur.”
Score another point for the beard.
*****
Though I’ve done a bunch of traveling lately, I’ve never flown on Southwest Airlines before. They don’t have assigned seating. Every ticket has a number, you board the plane in that order, then you pick whatever seat looks best to you, depending on what’s left. It was a little weird. Not bad, just unfamiliar.
Also, Southwest apparently has the only funny flight attendants in the whole business. I’ve tuned out the standard safety procedures for over a year now. You know what I’m talking about: that little pre-flight spiel where they explain how the seat belt works and lie to you about your seat cushion being able to float.
But on Southwest, the woman said, “Please listen closely while my ex-boyfriend and fiance demonstrate the safety procedures.” And I did pay attention, especially when she started to make fun of one of the guys who couldn’t get his life jacket on quickly enough for her taste. Later, when she was walking down the isle, one of the guys got on the intercom and made a boom-bada boom-bada noise in time with her walk. It was good fun.
Lastly, on Southwest, they don’t cheap you on the snacks. They go around with a big box of different goodies, and if you say, “I want one of each.” Then they just give you one of each. They didn’t act like the CEO was going to count the packets of peanut butter crackers at the end and beat them if one is missing. Plus you got a whole can of soda and not just a cupful, which I appreciate.
These may not sound like much, but life, like writing, is built from small details. If I’m going to pay 400 bucks for a plane ticket, then I want a whole can of soda and an extra packet of peanuts. Does it make me feel better? Yes. Yes it does. It’s like being given the choice between sodomy and sodomy with a little lube. You’re going to have the sodomy either way, so you come to appreciate whatever small pieces of consideration the airline overlords grant you.
*****
That’s all for now. More later. Off to bed.
pat
