Necon Day One:

Do not get a ride with an anarchist.

That’s the first lesson learned when it came to attending Camp Necon. Necon is a more intimate con (I can see why Mo*Con was being compared to it – I can only hope/dread to keep and live up to such a tradition). As such, I was picked up by a friend I had only known online, lokilokust (he now of the shorn beard). Unfortunately, I came to learn something about my friend loki: as an anarchist, he doesn’t believe in directions. “Wherever you are, you are somewhere” or something like that was said. It’s hard to recall. You see, I have a terrible fear of bridges, because it combines two of my other fears, heights and open water. To say that there is a bridge one has to take to Necon is an insult to bridges. There is an expanse, a thin metal rail that extends long into the horizon which “he who doesn’t believe in directions” kept going back and forth on in his efforts to get from somewhere to somewhere else. Ending with us “fighting the power” with the ironic act of asking the police for directions.

Everyone kept apologizing for this year not being true to the spirit of Necon. Their usual quarters were under re-construction, so we were housed in alternate facilities. Seriously, you don’t have to apologize for me “having” to sleep in air conditioned hotel rooms. I’ll suffer for my craft.
I will point out that they wanted to keep the Negroes safely ensconced by having me and Wrath James White as roommates. I’d like to point out that one got away: I saw Linda Addison running around all weekend free as a bird.

Necon Day Two:

In another bit of superb Necon roommate planning, I had Ron Dickie, Tomo, and Bob Ford in a room on one side of me, and Kelli Dunlap in the room on the other side. This will end well.
I ended up doing a different panel than the one announced. I was switched with Wrath (you notice a pattern here?!?) and ended up on the “killing the genre in ten easy steps” panel, moderated by my arch-nemesis, Nick Kaufmann. All roads come back to loki: as if the panel didn’t have enough bile and bitterness with Kaufmann and Jack Haringa, loki was on hand. I tried to bring the joy that is me, luckily, Weston Ochse put a quick end to that.

For the record, I have no idea why people started calling me Budda.
And Debbie Kuhn had to bear the brunt of my obnoxiousness with no other members of Team Broaddus being there to distract me (I believe the quote was “wow, you really do talk a lot. I really understand why Lauren complains.”)

Necon Day Three:

I. Hate. Teh. Kelli.

The calculation from the Dickie/Tomo/Bob room was “Maurice’s head should be right about here” which preceeded banging against my headboard at some unholy time in the morning.

And now, an aside: Dear Lucien, no I didn’t begin my adventures at the con by announcing “where are my gays?” but i think many of us were left with some very confused feelings afterwards, though I wasn’t even invited to the sexy pillow fight. (Mental Note: Must have sexy pillow fight at Mo*Con IV)

In short, I may have a new favorite convention. You seriously can’t beat old friends hanging out over food and drink for a weekend having great conversations. The only thing to make things better would be to fire the “guitar guy”. They show up at every party, and if you don’t stop them early, they multiply. I’m pretty content to have just Gary Frank.

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