docwebster (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
docwebster) wrote2003-05-26 12:18 am
docwebster) wrote2003-05-26 12:18 am
ConQuest 34
To say this weekend was a revelation on multiple levels would be an understatement. As I've said on IRC, my world was rapidly becoming (a) work, (b) home, and (c) grocery stores with the odd trip to varying flea markets and antique malls to vary things a little. It was also the first time in almost five years I've gone to a convention where I wasn't there to work at promoting Conjuration (RIP). In short, it was back to being a fan.
Friday night was a train wreck, at least on a physical level. I saw a lot of friends I hadn't seen in a long, long time. I also was in the worst physical straits I've ever been in at a convention, and that particular annoyance climaxed with a rather extreme reaction to a "Hammer Slammer" I don't think I'll go into here other than to say the ridiculously low-slung hotel toilets made it nearly physically impossible to perform certain post-elimination tasks. As a.. er.. crowning touch, sitting on that !(@&(** thing nearly ended my even theoretical ability to procreate.
All I can say is, thank God for Mylanta. After Ranada made it back to the room, I sat nearly paralyzed in a rather comfortable chair, unable to even contemplate sleep until me midships calmed the hell down. I also had to stop wearing the compress pad and gauze because by Friday night the wound had already scabbed over good and proper, the swelling had gone down, so all the pad/gauze was managing to do was irritate the hell out of the stitches. Bleagh.
Saturday was much better, on the whole. I got to see even more old friends, eat some fine hotel food (note: all the elevators worked, the staff was friendly, and the restaraunt rocked. What's wrong with these people? Don't they know how con hotels are supposed to behave? The impertinence of it all.), and ended up in bed before midnight. Sober.
It was made very clear to me this weekend that I am no longer a lad. I just can't handle hard drinking any more, and thus I should be thankful beyond all measure that there wasn't a Klingon party this year. The most fun Ranada and I had all weekend was an impromptu *mystery* panel we unintentionally got going in the non-smoking consuite with Lee Killough and her husband. It was reasonably apparent Ranada and I had graduated into Older Fandom.
It was also made quite clear that my weight problems have just plain got to go. I've waffled more times than IHOP on my diet, but dammit if I'm going to get back into fandom I've got to get back in shape. That's not even counting the fact that I want to be with Ranada for the rest of my life, and if I want that period of time to be longer than, say, the average run of a modern sitcom, then clearly Changes Are In Order.
I know I've got more to say about this (such as ruminating on the nigh palpable, jarring sensation integrating back into the mundane world), but as it's twenty minutes to one and I've had about eight hours sleep total over the entire weekend I think I'll stop for now.
Friday night was a train wreck, at least on a physical level. I saw a lot of friends I hadn't seen in a long, long time. I also was in the worst physical straits I've ever been in at a convention, and that particular annoyance climaxed with a rather extreme reaction to a "Hammer Slammer" I don't think I'll go into here other than to say the ridiculously low-slung hotel toilets made it nearly physically impossible to perform certain post-elimination tasks. As a.. er.. crowning touch, sitting on that !(@&(** thing nearly ended my even theoretical ability to procreate.
All I can say is, thank God for Mylanta. After Ranada made it back to the room, I sat nearly paralyzed in a rather comfortable chair, unable to even contemplate sleep until me midships calmed the hell down. I also had to stop wearing the compress pad and gauze because by Friday night the wound had already scabbed over good and proper, the swelling had gone down, so all the pad/gauze was managing to do was irritate the hell out of the stitches. Bleagh.
Saturday was much better, on the whole. I got to see even more old friends, eat some fine hotel food (note: all the elevators worked, the staff was friendly, and the restaraunt rocked. What's wrong with these people? Don't they know how con hotels are supposed to behave? The impertinence of it all.), and ended up in bed before midnight. Sober.
It was made very clear to me this weekend that I am no longer a lad. I just can't handle hard drinking any more, and thus I should be thankful beyond all measure that there wasn't a Klingon party this year. The most fun Ranada and I had all weekend was an impromptu *mystery* panel we unintentionally got going in the non-smoking consuite with Lee Killough and her husband. It was reasonably apparent Ranada and I had graduated into Older Fandom.
It was also made quite clear that my weight problems have just plain got to go. I've waffled more times than IHOP on my diet, but dammit if I'm going to get back into fandom I've got to get back in shape. That's not even counting the fact that I want to be with Ranada for the rest of my life, and if I want that period of time to be longer than, say, the average run of a modern sitcom, then clearly Changes Are In Order.
I know I've got more to say about this (such as ruminating on the nigh palpable, jarring sensation integrating back into the mundane world), but as it's twenty minutes to one and I've had about eight hours sleep total over the entire weekend I think I'll stop for now.
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