FA+
Shop
FC 2018: How Long, Oh Lord?
7 years ago
Against the advice of my psychiatrist, I will once again
darken the doorstep of San Jose for another chance at
making a group of really tall teenage girls ignore my
presence on the elevator.
"If you see one of those weirdos, don't make eye contact."
Good advice, Emily. Fun is for suckers and the weak minded.
But I digress, as usual.
So here's my FC plan, for those of you keeping score...
I'm flying up again this year, because Southwest has a short
memory and I promised to keep the in-flight nudity to a minimum.
Did you know they serve tequila in the airport AND on the flight?
I arrive in SJ in the early afternoon with 5 suitcases, 2 action packers
and a 102 quart industrial ice chest in tow. Hailing an Uber black should be
easy, but convincing the driver to play "The Best of Patsy Kline" on the
way to the hotel is always tricky.
I'm staying in one of the H hotels.
It's a furry convention. I think you all know what the H stands for.
and 
have reluctantly agreed to let me stay in their room.
Scotty and I will once again be making our famous at-con goat cheese in the bathtub.
Zarafa has promised to teach me the Beer Barrel Polka on trombone.
Everyone gets a whipped cream smile.
The local constabulary has been suitably warned.
So now what? What does one do at one of these unholy gatherings?
I can't speak for others, which would be scary, but here's what I'll do:
Run around the city in the early mornings like a crazy person.
Drink too much coffee.
Dress up like an dog and pretend others respect my life choices.
Drink too much beer.
Saturday night dance at the Fairmont because a melody and lyrics make me wag.
Attend concerts, panels, and other con events? Gosh, I have no clue. As always.
Beyond how I'm getting there, where I'm staying, and how I'm getting home,
I have no real itinerary. I'll spend the entire con in jellyfish mode, getting
carried along by the furry tide to whatever event comes next.
This works well for me because, like a jellyfish, I have only a rudimentary brain.
The whole point of this adventure is to see you all, hug and be hugged, and
to live in the moment for hours on end.
It's good for the soul.
Thank you everyone for making me feel welcome, and for all the love
you've shown me in these past 8 years.
I'm very lucky indeed to be here.
And I promise not to get too drunk to karaoke.
darken the doorstep of San Jose for another chance at
making a group of really tall teenage girls ignore my
presence on the elevator.
"If you see one of those weirdos, don't make eye contact."
Good advice, Emily. Fun is for suckers and the weak minded.
But I digress, as usual.
So here's my FC plan, for those of you keeping score...
I'm flying up again this year, because Southwest has a short
memory and I promised to keep the in-flight nudity to a minimum.
Did you know they serve tequila in the airport AND on the flight?
I arrive in SJ in the early afternoon with 5 suitcases, 2 action packers
and a 102 quart industrial ice chest in tow. Hailing an Uber black should be
easy, but convincing the driver to play "The Best of Patsy Kline" on the
way to the hotel is always tricky.
I'm staying in one of the H hotels.
It's a furry convention. I think you all know what the H stands for.
and 
have reluctantly agreed to let me stay in their room. Scotty and I will once again be making our famous at-con goat cheese in the bathtub.
Zarafa has promised to teach me the Beer Barrel Polka on trombone.
Everyone gets a whipped cream smile.
The local constabulary has been suitably warned.
So now what? What does one do at one of these unholy gatherings?
I can't speak for others, which would be scary, but here's what I'll do:
Run around the city in the early mornings like a crazy person.
Drink too much coffee.
Dress up like an dog and pretend others respect my life choices.
Drink too much beer.
Saturday night dance at the Fairmont because a melody and lyrics make me wag.
Attend concerts, panels, and other con events? Gosh, I have no clue. As always.
Beyond how I'm getting there, where I'm staying, and how I'm getting home,
I have no real itinerary. I'll spend the entire con in jellyfish mode, getting
carried along by the furry tide to whatever event comes next.
This works well for me because, like a jellyfish, I have only a rudimentary brain.
The whole point of this adventure is to see you all, hug and be hugged, and
to live in the moment for hours on end.
It's good for the soul.
Thank you everyone for making me feel welcome, and for all the love
you've shown me in these past 8 years.
I'm very lucky indeed to be here.
And I promise not to get too drunk to karaoke.
Take care, my friend.
What you need is someone to use a rolled up newspaper on your snout. Them saying, "NO! BAD DOGGIE!" every time you even look at a beer.
I wonder if they'll sell that drink 'pink poodle'...
(we sure missed you, though!)