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Arisia 2008
Jan. 22nd, 2008 11:20 pmArisia wasn't hotly anticipated by me this year — I was tired, I had a lot to do, I wasn't feeling social, whine whine whine. But I'm quite glad I decided to go, since I ended up borne along by a wave of social energy pretty much all weekend, and had a lot of cheerful fun. (Remind me to read this next January.)
I gave blood, for the first time since college, even though the much-ballyhooed "naughty nurses" were nowhere in evidence when I arrived on Saturday. There were about ten SF fans crowded into the little MGH bloodmobile RV, in various states of loopiness and rowdiness, and the nurses put up with us admirably. I walked away with fig newtons, a squeezy stress ball, and a retro-mod hippy T-shirt — not a bad exchange rate on a pint of claret!
Speaking of free swag, while I was waiting in line for the masquerade, a fellow walked by handing out tribbles. I took a small white one and put it in my back pocket. A little while later, I was playing with it, and felt something in my pocket...which turned out to be a second small white tribble, identical to the first. Or perhaps it was the first one, and I was playing with a second. Whatever. I know it didn't really asexually reproduce, and there was no quadrotriticale in my back pocket anyway, but as God is my witness I truly don't know where the second one came from.
For the masquerade, I sat beside an old engineer, Santa-bearded: a charming conversationalist with a comment for every costume. The wee ones were adorable, the grown-up costumes were impressive, but the highlight for me came when Batman, Mr. Freeze, Poison Ivy, and the Joker were engaged in a dramatic tableau ("You're going back to Arkham!"), and just as the Joker was sneaking up from behind and drawing his long-nosed pistol on Batman...the needle scraped across the record, Linus and Lucy started playing, and they all danced the Peanuts Christmas dance. I just about fell off my chair. Then, for the half-time show, a troupe of lovely and jangling bellydancers came out, struck an elegantly beveiled pose...and began bellydancing to The Hamster Dance. (If you'd asked me on Friday, I wouldn't have said it was possible to bellydance to The Hamster Dance, but apparently it is.)
Sunday afternoon dragged for me, and I wasn't sure I'd return to the con after meeting my sweetie for a mound of fabulous Wagamama noodles, but I'm glad I did (despite the half-hour wait in the biting cold for the Arisia shuttle, which then broke down two blocks from the hotel). I got back in time for Walk Through the Fire at the Buffy singalong, which was curiously moving, then danced a quadrille and two waltzes at the blue-tinted Goblin Ball (per Labyrinth, sans ballroom shattering at the end). I was a more experienced dancer than 90% of the attendees, despite never having danced a quadrille before, and I do like feeling like I'm good at something, and helping others have fun with something new.
(I should mention, before I forget, the very cool "cabinet of curiosities" on dealers' row, which was staffed by a Swattie (Leah '99) and contained all manner of icky and wonderful objects: a two-headed duckling, a bat skeleton, a cyclops pig! For only $3, they'd let you pass the curtain and stare all you wanted. That, apart from buying a bit of fudge and a book at the Circlet Press party, was about all I did in dealers' row, though I did have a frisson when I realized, after a few minutes, that the Rob chatting in the bookseller's room was actually Robert J. Sawyer.)
My final event was the (breath-catchingly hilarious and painful) Eye of Argon reading. I was one of the final contenders, but, alas, I had to scoot to catch my bus before round two could begin, so I never got a chance at the truffles. Obnoxiously, the last scheduled 57 never came, so I ended up splitting a taxi with another stranded person anyway, after we'd waited twenty minutes in ten-degree weather. Grrr.
Sprinkled in there was a lot of time hanging out with two sets of people I hadn't known very well, but now do: Lisa T. and her little sister, who kept finding me to chat with and kept me company at the club dance, and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
marcmagus and Cat, who I'd known to wave at from Scottish. They are all quite nifty people, it turns out, and I'm pleased I got to spend unexpected time with them. More expected, but still very welcome, was time with elusiveat, tirerim, herbertinc, and (just a smidge) with rigel. (orawnzva and fiddledragon, I barely saw. I think the filk room ate them.)
All in all, a good use of a weekend, and I'm feeling re-energized in the midst of bitter January. Thanks, Arisians!
(I'll post some of my own photos soonish, but you can actually see me at the Circlet Press party here.)
I gave blood, for the first time since college, even though the much-ballyhooed "naughty nurses" were nowhere in evidence when I arrived on Saturday. There were about ten SF fans crowded into the little MGH bloodmobile RV, in various states of loopiness and rowdiness, and the nurses put up with us admirably. I walked away with fig newtons, a squeezy stress ball, and a retro-mod hippy T-shirt — not a bad exchange rate on a pint of claret!
Speaking of free swag, while I was waiting in line for the masquerade, a fellow walked by handing out tribbles. I took a small white one and put it in my back pocket. A little while later, I was playing with it, and felt something in my pocket...which turned out to be a second small white tribble, identical to the first. Or perhaps it was the first one, and I was playing with a second. Whatever. I know it didn't really asexually reproduce, and there was no quadrotriticale in my back pocket anyway, but as God is my witness I truly don't know where the second one came from.
For the masquerade, I sat beside an old engineer, Santa-bearded: a charming conversationalist with a comment for every costume. The wee ones were adorable, the grown-up costumes were impressive, but the highlight for me came when Batman, Mr. Freeze, Poison Ivy, and the Joker were engaged in a dramatic tableau ("You're going back to Arkham!"), and just as the Joker was sneaking up from behind and drawing his long-nosed pistol on Batman...the needle scraped across the record, Linus and Lucy started playing, and they all danced the Peanuts Christmas dance. I just about fell off my chair. Then, for the half-time show, a troupe of lovely and jangling bellydancers came out, struck an elegantly beveiled pose...and began bellydancing to The Hamster Dance. (If you'd asked me on Friday, I wouldn't have said it was possible to bellydance to The Hamster Dance, but apparently it is.)
Sunday afternoon dragged for me, and I wasn't sure I'd return to the con after meeting my sweetie for a mound of fabulous Wagamama noodles, but I'm glad I did (despite the half-hour wait in the biting cold for the Arisia shuttle, which then broke down two blocks from the hotel). I got back in time for Walk Through the Fire at the Buffy singalong, which was curiously moving, then danced a quadrille and two waltzes at the blue-tinted Goblin Ball (per Labyrinth, sans ballroom shattering at the end). I was a more experienced dancer than 90% of the attendees, despite never having danced a quadrille before, and I do like feeling like I'm good at something, and helping others have fun with something new.
(I should mention, before I forget, the very cool "cabinet of curiosities" on dealers' row, which was staffed by a Swattie (Leah '99) and contained all manner of icky and wonderful objects: a two-headed duckling, a bat skeleton, a cyclops pig! For only $3, they'd let you pass the curtain and stare all you wanted. That, apart from buying a bit of fudge and a book at the Circlet Press party, was about all I did in dealers' row, though I did have a frisson when I realized, after a few minutes, that the Rob chatting in the bookseller's room was actually Robert J. Sawyer.)
My final event was the (breath-catchingly hilarious and painful) Eye of Argon reading. I was one of the final contenders, but, alas, I had to scoot to catch my bus before round two could begin, so I never got a chance at the truffles. Obnoxiously, the last scheduled 57 never came, so I ended up splitting a taxi with another stranded person anyway, after we'd waited twenty minutes in ten-degree weather. Grrr.
Sprinkled in there was a lot of time hanging out with two sets of people I hadn't known very well, but now do: Lisa T. and her little sister, who kept finding me to chat with and kept me company at the club dance, and
marcmagus and Cat, who I'd known to wave at from Scottish. They are all quite nifty people, it turns out, and I'm pleased I got to spend unexpected time with them. More expected, but still very welcome, was time with elusiveat, tirerim, herbertinc, and (just a smidge) with rigel. (orawnzva and fiddledragon, I barely saw. I think the filk room ate them.)All in all, a good use of a weekend, and I'm feeling re-energized in the midst of bitter January. Thanks, Arisians!
(I'll post some of my own photos soonish, but you can actually see me at the Circlet Press party here.)
