After too short of a night (less than four hours of sleep), I managed to get out of the house without raising roommate suspicions about where I was sneaking off to for an entire Saturday. Having heard that lines for registration at conventions are typically horrific, I thought I’d beat the crowd and get there early. Leaving at 7:30, I was worried I’d spend two hours in a line. Lo and behold, however, there was no line for registration, which began at 10am. I was first in line, and was highly pleased to discover that a one-day registration was cheaper than the $50 my cheapskate sensibilities had allotted for the day. (The parking for the con, moreover, was only $10 instead of the normal $20, which also pleased me!)

While in line for registration, I met up with lancefoxx and burrwolf; really neat to meet them in person, and we ended up hanging out later in the day. Like I believe I’ve said before, I’m dreadfully shy if I don’t have a topic of conversation in mind, but once I have one – or I know someone in a crowd – it all shifts, and such was the case then. In fact, it was a little strange for me to actually be in a place with people whom identified themselves as furries, stand next to fursuits, walk around a room where all the merchandise for sale was anthropomorphic. I was wearing a badge that identified me as a horse; that was normal. There was a little apprehension at not knowing the norms of interaction, but I didn’t feel the sort of horror at being seen that afflicted me before the FurBQ. My anonymity, despite showing my face, was pretty much a surety in my mind. Maybe I should have been more worried, but that sense of wariness was dulled by the sleep deprivation. Who knows?

After wandering around the dealers’ den and closely inspecting one of the Dark Natasha originals there (so much easier to see techniques in person!), I headed across the hall to the hoofers meet-up. Unfortunately, there was only one other person there: raptonx. We were later joined by a very tall, slim guy in ponyplay getup with a German accent. It was, to say the least, a tad awkward, and we figured that all the other ungulates must have been sleeping in. Later we sighed in exasperation when we passed the feline and canine meetups and saw them filled to overflowing. Species with forward-facing eyes get all the love. So what if they’re more easily anthropomorphizable? :P

Most of my time I spent in the artist lounge, though. Since most of my involvement in the fandom is through art, that’s where I felt at home; I automatically had something in common with the others around me and could always ask them about their techniques if other topics didn’t spark dialogue. I ended up forcing myself into sketching new things, including a Philippine eagle anthro. (If you haven’t seen one, they’re about the only raptors that don’t look like they want to bite your face off. Instead, they look like they’re really worried about how your life’s going and want to offer you hot cocoa or something.) In so doing, I retrieved some of the sensation, the rush that got me into art originally: the allure of creating something that doesn’t exist already. That’s what got me into art. It’s refreshing to think that it can keep me going. In an effort to practice a bit, too, I did some life-sketches of Lance and RaptonX. These practices, together with discussing equine anatomy in TFs with RaptonX, inspired me to break out my lovely Encyclopedia Anatomicae again this morning. I’ve recently been a bit despairing about my art; drawing at the con with other artists, like my recent openCanvas sessions, might have given me a useful boost. I also was able to meet gargoyale and her friends lenne and ghostasaur. It was fun to watch them draw, and when I found out Lenne’s sona was a pudu (the smallest deer in the world, pudus are about the cutest things you’ll ever see), I got excited enough that we did a character sketch trade on the spot.

Mid-afternoon I also had the chance to participate in the fursuit parade. I had no idea what to expect from it, as all I know about fursuits was what I saw at the FurBQ and what I’ve absorbed from online. Not to mention that my costume, in total, cost me about $60 and a trade (which I have yet to complete), and having forgotten to make myself a hood, I found myself pulling a black T-shirt over my head. So, yes, it wasn’t anywhere near the best, but it was fun. I need, however, some way to interact, some set of gestures for performance. I figure, thus, that either I need to practice my character more before I wear the costume again, or become friends with some ‘suiters with whom I’d be more comfortable being silly.

The most intriguing thing to me, though, was the diversity of people there. It had somewhat surprised me at the FurBQ, but there I think I was too distracted by actually being able to meet people (and not die) that it didn’t sink in. For some reason, I expected everyone there to be teens or in their twenties. I could have gleaned this supposition from online furry surveys, which show age of participants skewed greatly toward the lower ages, or perhaps from my own sense, prevalent in some parts of my mind nearly ever since I started drawing anthros, that it was a phase that I (and others) would outgrow. I’ve never really assumed that it might continue beyond these formative years of my life. I’ve always thought it would end. So seeing older people there –some practically elderly by society’s standards – helped me get a sense of history and community that was rooted deeper than what you might find online. I’m not one to reduce religion to its social functions, but seeing a community bound together across so many generations (at least three) made me wonder how many of religion’s functions furrydom fulfills. This line of thought was only reinforced by hearing about the extent to which participants go in order to attend cons, dedicating thousands of dollars for a few days and, perhaps, some commissions. I so wish I could do sociological research on the furry community; I want to ask, among other things, how those furries who are religious conceive of the functions of religion and the fandom in their lives. What needs does either satisfy, and do they overlap at all? Alas, though, to do that sort of academic research would most likely require that I reveal my association with the fandom, something that at this point could be fatal for job prospects. Maybe I could use my oral history training to interview notable fandom members; something non-academic, but of quality. That would be intriguing.

I found myself leaving a little earlier than I’d expected because of another engagement that had arisen that afternoon and found myself reflecting on the con with a bit of ambivalence. There wasn’t the sort of thrill that had come from the FurBQ, but in retrospect I see that the thrill of having a good time came on so strongly then primarily because I’d been so heavily envisioning utter disaster. The two events weren’t so different in content. Califur was, however, a little quieter and more laid back than I’d anticipated. Hearing that over a thousand people would be there, I foresaw crowds milling about, but the constant press and commotion I’d pictured was not what I found. I realized instead that for many of the attendees the con is a vacation. It’s a place to relax. Escapism doesn’t necessitate (and is sometimes counteracted by) high levels of activity. It’s a time set apart to recharge. (Again, echoes of church, Sabbaths, and Israelite jubilees.)

And y’know what? Even though I was so utterly exhausted heading home that evening that I was literally (not figuratively) hallucinating while driving down the highway (could I have pulled over, I would have), I felt like I, myself, had recharged a bit.