My ride: Gorgeous, bizarre, a massive vintage green beast of a machine bought off the Watchman when they dismantled the movie set. I hear it outside before Ross calls to say he’s arrived, loud, incredible, purring an actual vroom hrum hrum hrumph every time he hit the gas. A steel gas sucker, sure, and it needs to be tuned, but I love it. Talk about personality. We filled it with swords, of course, stuffing the trunk full of pointy things on the way down, and even more on the way back. Blades for sale, for hobby, for profit, for trade. You need something sharp and likely highly impractical, then Ross is your guy.
Norwescon itself was only slightly less colourful.
Tony and I are desultory congoers, lacking the rockstar fannish vibe, glad to see friends, but not terribly organized about the whole thing. (Seriously, the ratio of People I Looked For VS. People I Found borders on shameful. I love you people, where were you hiding?) Thursday we skipped altogether, because I am fail, and thought Kris was reading on Friday, and Friday we didn’t arrive until late, only in time to catch the end of the dance. Saturday we did much better. No panels, no readings, but lucky enough to find seats at the Kitten Sundae concert, a sweet and pretty band what is two bands combined: Vixy & Tony mixed with S.J. Tucker, aka Skinny White Chick. We also bid and won a space mouse in the art room, picked up some prints, and not only did I commission another replacement garnet ear cuff from Angela, I booked a shoot with her next week, which I expect will be tremendous fun.
All things must pass, however, and before we were swept up by anyone in particular, we crept away from social time to hide in our room to celebrate our proto-anniversary until evening, luxuriating in sloth, nibbling on a brought picnic of strawberries, chevre, vegetable crackers, and pepper salami slices, and watching Ghost, (more proof that Tony is more of a girl than me, yes), and Pretty Woman while naked in bed, refusing to emerge until it was time to dance/party. The rest of the night was made of boogie, dancing at various parties and in the main ballroom with Gustavo and Angel until our legs were fit to fall off, not getting to bed until five in the morning.
Sunday, we left in the early afternoon, taking light rail back into town with a girl named Shoshona, eating breakfast downtown, then passing out on the couch at home for five hours, wiped out completely and content.