The tweet, from our steamed Vice Chair read So, the day dawns on #dwcon set-up. Now: coffee and Internets. Soon: get up, shower, breakfast. Then: hunt gophers to unload car.
Well. I am HuntGopher, so clearly this was addressed to me, and as I was about 1/2 hour away by car, and I had planned to Goph...what was a man to do? Casting caution, pyjamas and 2 days growth of beard to the wind I decided to goph forth, then went back, got dressed and went forth again
My timing was perfect. I arrived just in time for the Vice Chair to have almost emptied his car, so had but a small box to take to Ops, a duty I performed with skill and dexterity, and only got lost the once. Once there I quickly signed up as Gopher and suchlike, and after a quick round of musical tables, musical boxes, musical stationary and musical printers, as Ops was transformed from a base, characterless hotel room into a magical fairy grotto [1] my co-gophers and I were herded, cat-like, onto our first mission-critical job. Envelope-stuffing. There are 900 of you. Each have an envelope with *stuff* in it. These are not magical self-stuffing envelopes. 4500 money notes, 1800 sheets of guild appreciation tokens and a sticky label were adhered and stuffed in and on the blessed things. By hand. Now...you may like to try this at home. Count out 600 lots of 2 sheets of paper, one after the other. Then change to counting out lots of 5 sheets. Your brain will rebel, and you will fail to remember how to count to five...
Ops opened, and I wandered, heading for the bar, and coffee. And a wireless connection for the laptop. I geeked, and people happened. Music was played. And then The Management turned up and forbade the playing of musical instruments because of Licencing Laws. Which is really annoying. Part of the 'con tradition is playing and group song-murdering in the bar. This year it seems this is not to be...
I was called upon to move a load of boxes from a van to Ops. Then having just bought a coffee I was called upon again to move some boxes from Sator Square to Lord-Knows Where. Then, just as the coffee cup reached my lips I was called again to move some more boxes. Hypothetical, metaphysical boxes. When I arrived the boxes were gone. Not there. Having no physical existance. So I went back to my coffee. At the point the cup touched my lips the boxes, out of sheer spite, recorporialised, and off I went to Registration with them, wherein I was caught in a weird dance...collect a bag, proceed down the table adding a pen, a balloon, a notepad, a magazine, a lanyard, a bookmark...all done, amidst many MANY more people, and set, weirdly, to music. At which point my caffeine-starved braincells rebelled, and forced me back to reclaim my now cold beverage...
Once again many wonderful people were arriving, and before many minutes a group of strangers became old friends. Rolf and Uwe, Bjorn, Edmund, Suzi, Gid, Eric, old friends all, mixed and chatted with new faces, people I have never met yet through the magic of Discworld have known all my life. The conversation flowed from Henry VIII to Edward I, lyrical poetry through the age, erotic symbolism in Warehouse 13 and Eureka...yes, this was a Convention.
Sadly I'd forgotten that I was merely mortal. Worse, I am having to rely more and more on Pharmaceuticals to keep bits from dropping off. And in my hurry to renew old friendships and forge new ones I'd managed to leave the most important ones behind, so had to flee before the pub quiz. Again...
However, energy and Miscelaneous deities willing, tomorrow is another day. See you there!
[1] I hadn't had much coffee, and they had My Little Ponies[2]. That's close enough...
[2] Don't ask, okay? Just don't ask!
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