Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts
By Alyce Wilson
Day One: Down the Rabbit-hole
My first day at Otakon started ominously, before I'd even arrived. I'd driven to my dad's place in Central Pennsylvania the night before (Wednesday, August 6) in order to drop off my doggie. She gets stressed when I board her at the vet's, so I prefer to leave her with Dad when I can.
I'd packed up the truck and was coming back inside to fill my water bottle when I saw Dad mopping his office floor.
"You left the water running in the upstairs bathroom," he said.
"I did?"
Apparently, the sink had overflowed and spilled through his office ceiling, bursting through a tile in one of the exam rooms.
The day did not get better. Every errand I tried to run on the way out of town led to another one. Time kept ticking, ticking, tocking away.
I'd cut my right index finger on the first joint the day before, pulling a plastic tag off a new black mini-backpack I intended to use during the con. So every time I touched something with my right index finger (which is practically everything I touched), it hurt. I tried some of that liquid Band-Aid stuff, but I think the cut was too deep. It would continue to get deeper, redder and more painful all weekend. Joy.
On the way out of town, I heard on the radio that Rev. Alton Motter had died. He was an elderly pastor, extremely active in the community, who used to write guest columns for the local newspaper when I'd worked there. Every time I saw him, he had a twinkle in his eye, and a ready joke on his lips. He'd turned left into a 19-year-old driver attempting to turn into his favorite restaurant.
"Well," I said to myself, "at least it isn't raining." It began raining outside Harrisburg.
But at least they were playing the Stones. I sang along to what's turning into my new theme song: "You can't always get what you want..."
The previous day I'd cried twice listening to the radio, once while packing and once while driving to my dad's. The first was to "Angie" by the Rolling Stones and the second was "One" by U2. Just the Drama Queen coming out to play, lamenting, weeping, gnashing of teeth. Boring, really. But I'd see her again before the end of the weekend.
When I got to Baltimore, I'd been intending to park at the parking garage attached to the Days Inn, where I was staying. But this was temporarily full, apparently because of a baseball game being held at Camden Yards. I didn't see any parking lot attendants there to speak to, so I kept driving straight.
"No big deal," I thought. "I'll just park at the Holiday Inn." I was driving straight, in the left-hand lane, and a police officer flags me down by banging on the side of my truck and screaming for me to pull over.
I made a split second decision. I began to cry.
"Why are you yelling at me?" I asked. "I don't know where I'm going! I'm lost in this town and the parking lot for my hotel is full." Sniff, sniff.
She had already asked for my license and registration but then seemed to think better of it. "Calm down, calm down," she said. She explained she'd pulled me over because that lane wasn't allowed to go straight. "You could have been hit," she explained, pointing to a bus barreling around the corner in the lane next to the one I'd been in.
She gave me directions for driving around the block to the Days Inn, telling me to speak to the parking attendant about parking there. But when she wasn't looking, I pulled into the Holiday Inn parking lot instead.
As it turned out, I'd coincidentally managed to pull in at the precise time the attendant was gone. The lot, it seems, was for hotel guests only. But when I spoke to one of the valets on my way out of the parking lot, he listened to my hard luck story and told me, "It's okay. Just stay until you can move it later, when the other lot is emptier." I thanked him, dried my tears and headed for the BCC.
When I got to the convention center, I got my staff badge and looked for something to do. I ended up being put effectively in charge of the "packing party," which involved stuffing the program book, pocket video guide, Anime Music Video voting form and other goodies into a plastic bag for distribution at registration the next day.
"We need music," I observed after about a half hour of monotonous stuffing.
"There's a boom box right here," someone said. "And someone left their CD's behind." They were marked, "Play me."
We went through the collection, discovering mix CD's of 80s favorites (which were just what the party needed). One of the hired security staffers kept pausing in our doorway to boogie and talk to us.
The many "gophers" under my direction (gophers being a bit like rabbits but far more useful) were a colorful group, some with blue hair or fantastic sunglasses (worn inside, at night, naturally), another with an Indiana Jones hat. When their spirits seemed to flag, I had them shout, "Woo!"
I was keeping track of their hours spent working, by checking my cell phone frequently. It's pocket sized... a pocket watch, if you will.
They seemed to like me enough that throughout the rest of the weekend, when I'd see some of them, they'd say, "Alyce!" and stop to chat. It's nice to be loved.
As the evening wore on, it was time for a challenge. I was helping with the preregistration processing. We were opening the doors for four hours in order to get badges and welcome packets to some of the people who had sent their money early for a membership, allowing them free access to the convention for the weekend.
I was paired with one of "my" gophers. She handled the cash register and I handed out badges and welcome packets. It got so loud, with all the commotion, that she kept shouting "Next!" at the top of her lungs. She was small by stature but large of voice. When one con member got to us, he said, "Oh, good. I got the screamer." She smiled at him, took his money, and screamed, "Next!"
Four hours flew by relatively quickly, but by the end of it I was exhausted. I knew I had a huge day ahead of me, so I found my way to my hotel room and slept fitfully, dreaming of rabbits hopping, hopping, hopping ahead of me.
More of Alyce's Adventures in Otakon, 2003:
Musings on Otakon 2006:
August 8, 2006 - Bunny Ears of Command
Musings on Otakon 2005:
Musings on Otakon 2004:
August 10 , 2004 - Overture to Otakon
Moral:
She generally gave herself very good advice (though she very seldom
followed it).
Copyright
2003 by Alyce Wilson
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