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I finished my Lunacon report.
Before the con, I called the hotel to confirm the reservation and to add all names to the list. I was even able to do this, but it took longer than it should have.
Now, if I call saying, "I want to confirm a reservation and make sure all names are on it," I expect that, even if I haven't reached exactly the right person, that the hotel person to whom I am speaking will transfer me to the right place. But I was transferred to someone who transferred me to the Oak Room, where, unsurprisingly, I was told that no one there could check a reservation, and that I should talk to the front desk. Oh, and they couldn't transfer me. I think the Oak Room had convention staff in it, so this really wasn't their fault.
I called back and asked for the front desk. I then explained what I wanted, again, and this time, was able to confirm reservation and room rate, and add the remaining names.
Friday
I had no problem getting to Grand Central, getting an off peak round trip ticket, and getting on a train before 4 pm. The tricky part was getting from the Rye train station to the Rye Town Hilton, aka the Escher Hilton.
I had called the hotel from the train and was told that the shuttle vans weren't running, that there should be cabs, and that, if there weren't, to call the front desk, and someone there would arrange for one.
I arrived at the station and hooked up with 3 other fen, and, soon, a 4th. We found the cab stand as the two cabs in it were taken. I called the hotel and explained the situation. I was transferred to security. I don't know why. The person I talked to in security said that the hotel shuttle van was running, but was at the airport, and would take 20 minutes. I explained that I'd been told to talk to the front desk about a cab. Security transferred me to the front desk.
I explained the whole story again, and got transferred to a cab company. The guy I talked to said that he'd try to send a cab as soon as he could, but, well, there weren't that many, and the weather was bad. This was annoying, but not his fault.
It was hailing or snowing ice, so I was a bit frantic, calling Josh and Julian to update them, and checking with Andrew, but only hitting his voice mail. Fortunately, the cab showed up about 5-10 minutes after I called. There was a woman who was a bit annoyed, as she'd been waiting longer, but she was mollified when we explained that I had specifically called for this cab. The driver could hold four. I got in, as did one other guy. The other three fen stayed. The driver charged a very reasonable rate, especially given the weather.
Once we arrived, I checked in, and, as I said before:
The nice man at the front desk told me, "You are in room 629. Go around the corridor to the elevator and take it to the fourth floor. When you get off the elevator, turn right. Follow the halway until the carpet turns green. You will be on the seventh floor. Take the next elevator down one floor to the sixth floor."
Ah. It's good to be home.
I found Batya and Alex, and Batya helped me find my room, room 629, which is on the ground floor.
"It's because you're evil," I said.
"You think I did this?" she said. "I'm flattered!"
So, we neeped about play by emails we're in, and then we headed out. I headed for Registration, getting a badge for me and one for Josh. Andrew arrived, and apologized for not giving me a lift from the station, explaining that even if the timing had worked, his van was filled with so much in the way of larp stuff that there was barely room for him, even though he was the driver.
Me: Okay, no problem. Now, we're in room 629, and you can get a key from the front desk --
Andrew: Er, Lisa, I'm not in your room. That was that other convention, two weeks ago.
Me: Oh, right.
Andrew roomed with us at Intercon. Marc was rooming with Josh, me, and Julian, though he wouldn't get in till later. Josh arrived at the station, sending me IMs. I went to the hotel restaurant and discovered that the buffet, while not cheap, was really good. While I was eating, the hotel shuttle picked up Josh and Phil Bruccato, and they arrived in the lobby. I hauled Josh into the restaurant, and he had the buffet, too. Then, Pooh joined us. She didn't have the buffet, but I gather that she managed to find something she could eat on the menu, which is good. I went to our room while they finished eating, helped Andrew with minor envelope stuffing for Jamais Vue, a larp Stephen Tihor, Erik Hanson, and I wrote, which Stephen, Josh, Beth, and I polished twice, and which Andrew's group, Foambrain, was about to try to run.
Andrew was prepared for the game not to go off. After all, it was Friday evening with lousy weather. I called Stephen to update him and tell him not to risk life and limb driving to Lunacon to see a possibly non-existent run. He agreed, and said that he'd expect details, and perhaps photos.
Andrew recruited me and Josh to help, as his team was still en route, and he was concerned about their arriving safely, never mind on time. But, the Great Gods of Larping looked down on us and smiled.
As we were setting up, the room filled. I don't know if everyone was there for the larp; we wound up with 7 players, and there were, I thought, more than 7 people walking into the room. 7 was odd, but doable. And, just before game start, Andrew's team arrived.
Josh and I stayed to watch and help. We got 2 more players. I cast one as the next PC in our casting order. Josh said that he expected both players to wander off, rather than play out the whole game, and that the role I'd filled was fine for that. I put the other player in a role I normally would not have cast so early, but which was fine for a player who might get bored and leave, and whose questionnaire requested a "freewheeling vortex of chaos". Both players did indeed wander off.
The seven who stayed seemed to have fun, as the game spiralled into utter chaos. Josh and Andrew took pictures, and we all took mental notes about what needs to be fixed before the game can be considered truly boxed. We decided how to bring the game to a conclusion, and then did game wrap, with Josh reigning me in when I tried to do it the way we usually do it, as this was a Foambrain run, not a Straightjackets Optional run, and folks had an sf convention's worth of things to get to.
During a minor lull in the game, Josh and I wandered into the con suite, discovering that only one can of diet soda remained, and that whoever was supposed to stock the con suite had put off shopping until the last minute. This would perhaps not normally be a problem, but given the weather, it meant that the consuite was woefully understocked.
After game wrap, Josh and I went to filking, which was breaking up, but Harold Stein had an open mike, and Josh sang a few things. I think I sang one or two as well. We got some sleep after that.
Saturday
I woke up after a few too many heat-influenced dreams, as the thermostat, which claimed it was 65 degrees, was incorrect. We turned it off and grabbed food. I managed to get a shallow cut on the lid of a food tin, which we washed out and bandaged. Marc, Josh, and I headed out, Julian having left already.
I dropped by the food concession, discovering that, while the food was not cheap, it was not as hideously overpriced as I've seen at some conventions. Hot dogs were $2, and brownies $1. The brownies were certainly substantial enough to be worth a buck to me, and way, way sweet.
I went to a 1 pm panel with Ellen Kushner, Darrell Schweitzer, Delia Sherman, and Andrew ***, called ***. It was a lot of fun. Darrell maintained that story is important, and that those experimental works and authors that last are those that use story, but with this codocil: If you are a good enough writer, yes, you can get away with anything. I asked how this was different from saying that good writing is better than bad writing.
Either I or someone else asked basically how one finds out if there is a story inside one, or maybe it was how to get good at this sort of thing -- something to which Delia's answer made perfect sense, and that answer was "Practice, practice, practice." I think one of the reasons I'm unlikely ever to be a Great Novelist is that my practice is in the field of rpgs, larps, reviews, and the occasional academic paper, of which more a bit later.
I wandered for another hour, then went to the Mike Ford memorial panel. Only one of the scheduled panelists actually showed up, Glen***. There was a man in the audience who'd gone to school with Mike, and they informed or reminded the audience that the "M" in John M. Ford stands for "Milo". This was a fun, if bittersweet, panel. It was not as sparkling as the one at Boskone, but it had something that gave it shape and weight -- someone who had been in the larp last night, who had never heard of Ford -- and had never read anything by Gaiman -- but who was intrigued by the passionate discussion in the room came in, and we now had someone to whom we could explain, an audience. Glenn showed the audio-visual presentation he'd made of "110 Stories", which Ford had seen.
After that, I went to the autograph tables to ask Ellen and Delia about the interstitial anthology that Delia had edited, and Ellen asked if Josh and I had yet received an autographed copy of The Privilege of the Sword for doing our dangdest to get her as much feedback on the manuscript (typescript? file that I printed out and Josh read electronically?) as quickly as possible. We hadn't, and Ellen rectified that on the spot. I told her how much a very short scene she'd added , before publication, but after the version that Josh and I had seen, had improved the book, and how much it had been needed, even though I hadn't realized that until I'd read it.
She explained that this scene really had been added at the very last minute. Another woman, I think Debbie Notkin, had sent Ellen feedback via email, but Ellen hadn't received it. They both discovered this during a phone conversation. Ellen had assumed that Debbie had been too busy to send her feedback, while Debbie had assumed that Ellen hadn't liked the feedback. Debbie quickly sent the feedback, and Ellen added the scene in response.
But, the scene in the current published edition isn't quite the scene that Ellen had sent. There are two lines of dialogue that are a bit different, and she's going to or has already put the correct lines on her website, and the small paperback version will have those lines in correctly. As I noted, this does raise interesting questions about what constitutes "the text".
Then, we started talking about Mythcon. I confirmed that Josh and I were going, and noted that the theme of the conference, "The Journey from Apprentice to Master", was a tricky one to write a paper for, especially as I'm more interested in the master part of the equation. Ellen agreed, and said that she wasn't sure what that had to do with her books. Well, she amended, it did apply to The Privilege of the Sword. And to The Fall of the Kings. But, Swordspoint?
I said that it certainly did apply to Swordspoint, something I got confirmation on when telling the story to Teresa Nielsen-Hayden, whose reaction to Ellen's comment as reported by me was, "Excuse me?" in a rising tone of disbelief. Anyway, I started pointing out the web of master-apprentice relationships, and Ellen said, "Well, I guess you've just found your topic." I had to admit that she was right.
By now, Phil Bruccato was talking with Delia, and he said that I was a good person to review stuff because I thought about it and wrote about what I thought and what I liked. So, I kind of floated down the hall to the gaming room, where Marc and I grabbed Josh so that we could do an early enough dinner to make Batya and Merav's concert.
We did the buffet, which was still quite good, and very nicely filling. Then, we went to the concert. Batya and Merav explained that it was not a Lady Mondegreen concert, there being only two performers present, and so they had come up with a name for themselves: The Funny Things.
It was a good concert, and afterwards, Josh and I hooked up with Nancy Leibovitz and headed for the con suite. It was closed for cleaning, but that didn't bug us, especially as it would be serving as the location of a bid party. We found a convenient bench and got into a multi-person impassioned discussion about the flaws and glories of Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings movies. This was me, Josh, Nancy, Eyal, and a woman I know, but whose name I'm blanking on. Josh and I maintain that, while, yes, Jackson made a great trilogy that changed everything, and changed it in many good ways, and yes, many of Jackson's changes really did improve the story, many of Jackson's changes hurt the story, and not just because it wasn't What Tolkien Wrote, but because these changes were Bad Writing. We also maintain that this matters, and that saying, "Well, but what do you expect? It can't be perfect." or something along those lines is totally missing the point, just as I will argue until the armaggeddon to end armaggeddons that making Willow and Anya conveniently stupid for the sake of the plot in the troll episode of Buffy: The Vampire Slayer was a Bad Thing and hurt the show, and saying, "What do you expect?" or "You're expecting too much" just doesn't cut it.
Anyway, the con suite / bid party opened, and I stuffed my face. By now, Josh had headed off, and Julian showed up, at least briefly. Nancy said that she was getting the urge to reread Greer Gilman's book and stories, and I checked and confirmed that I don't have everything Gilman wrote, but I've got at least one, possibly two of her stories. I have the one in Trampoline, and I may have another.
Eventually, Nancy, Eyal, and I wandered to the filk room. Josh had clearly been there, as he'd left his harp. It was time for the themed circle of ***. Abby lead "Home on La Grange". I tried "Female of the Species", which I'm really going to need to listen to some more, as Crystal tells me I was sharp, which is my usual problem.
At one point, Andrew asked if he could borrow something to use as a larp prop. I brought this down from our room, and loaned it to him at the appropriate time. Alas, he returned it almost immediately, the players having dealt with the thread it represented in such a way that he'd felt they'd earned that victory. When he explained the details to me, I agreed.
I also went with Batya to discuss some details of the epistolary game that she, Josh, and I are playing, and that was a lot fun.
We went back to the filk, and Josh found his way there as well. We all did a fair amount of filking, even if it didn't quite go until dawn.
Sunday
We all got packed and out of the room by checkout time. Josh and I found our way to the filk gripe session, where we all agreed that Roberta had done a good, solid job, and that such problems as did crop up were pretty much due to factors out of her control.
Andrew wandered by, and Josh and I managed to have a quick meeting with him and Batya about the larp that Josh, Batya, Merav, Alex, Jon, and I have been working on for many years. We all agreed that we needed to set up a meeting to talk about where we are now and where we're going. Now, Josh, Batya, Andrew, and I found a weekend in April that looks like it might work for the meeting. I've since drawn up an agenda, with Andrew's help.
Phil Bruccato told us that the hotel shuttles weren't running. Dave Weingart came by, and I told Phil that he must, at some point in the future, hear Dave's song "The Wild Hunt". Hm, if Phil hasn't heard Leigh Ann Hussey's songs, he should hear those as well.
Batya, Alex, Josh, and I managed to get all our stuff together, locate Merav to say goodbye, and get the hotel to summon us a cab. I still do not know if Phil was correct about the hotel shuttle, as someone at the front desk was convinced that it was running.
Still, we got into the cab, and I think Phil found a lift. The cab took us to the station with time enough for Batya, Alex, and Josh to get tickets from the machine. I had the second half of my round trip with me. The train came with gratifying speed, and it took us home.
Before the con, I called the hotel to confirm the reservation and to add all names to the list. I was even able to do this, but it took longer than it should have.
Now, if I call saying, "I want to confirm a reservation and make sure all names are on it," I expect that, even if I haven't reached exactly the right person, that the hotel person to whom I am speaking will transfer me to the right place. But I was transferred to someone who transferred me to the Oak Room, where, unsurprisingly, I was told that no one there could check a reservation, and that I should talk to the front desk. Oh, and they couldn't transfer me. I think the Oak Room had convention staff in it, so this really wasn't their fault.
I called back and asked for the front desk. I then explained what I wanted, again, and this time, was able to confirm reservation and room rate, and add the remaining names.
Friday
I had no problem getting to Grand Central, getting an off peak round trip ticket, and getting on a train before 4 pm. The tricky part was getting from the Rye train station to the Rye Town Hilton, aka the Escher Hilton.
I had called the hotel from the train and was told that the shuttle vans weren't running, that there should be cabs, and that, if there weren't, to call the front desk, and someone there would arrange for one.
I arrived at the station and hooked up with 3 other fen, and, soon, a 4th. We found the cab stand as the two cabs in it were taken. I called the hotel and explained the situation. I was transferred to security. I don't know why. The person I talked to in security said that the hotel shuttle van was running, but was at the airport, and would take 20 minutes. I explained that I'd been told to talk to the front desk about a cab. Security transferred me to the front desk.
I explained the whole story again, and got transferred to a cab company. The guy I talked to said that he'd try to send a cab as soon as he could, but, well, there weren't that many, and the weather was bad. This was annoying, but not his fault.
It was hailing or snowing ice, so I was a bit frantic, calling Josh and Julian to update them, and checking with Andrew, but only hitting his voice mail. Fortunately, the cab showed up about 5-10 minutes after I called. There was a woman who was a bit annoyed, as she'd been waiting longer, but she was mollified when we explained that I had specifically called for this cab. The driver could hold four. I got in, as did one other guy. The other three fen stayed. The driver charged a very reasonable rate, especially given the weather.
Once we arrived, I checked in, and, as I said before:
The nice man at the front desk told me, "You are in room 629. Go around the corridor to the elevator and take it to the fourth floor. When you get off the elevator, turn right. Follow the halway until the carpet turns green. You will be on the seventh floor. Take the next elevator down one floor to the sixth floor."
Ah. It's good to be home.
I found Batya and Alex, and Batya helped me find my room, room 629, which is on the ground floor.
"It's because you're evil," I said.
"You think I did this?" she said. "I'm flattered!"
So, we neeped about play by emails we're in, and then we headed out. I headed for Registration, getting a badge for me and one for Josh. Andrew arrived, and apologized for not giving me a lift from the station, explaining that even if the timing had worked, his van was filled with so much in the way of larp stuff that there was barely room for him, even though he was the driver.
Me: Okay, no problem. Now, we're in room 629, and you can get a key from the front desk --
Andrew: Er, Lisa, I'm not in your room. That was that other convention, two weeks ago.
Me: Oh, right.
Andrew roomed with us at Intercon. Marc was rooming with Josh, me, and Julian, though he wouldn't get in till later. Josh arrived at the station, sending me IMs. I went to the hotel restaurant and discovered that the buffet, while not cheap, was really good. While I was eating, the hotel shuttle picked up Josh and Phil Bruccato, and they arrived in the lobby. I hauled Josh into the restaurant, and he had the buffet, too. Then, Pooh joined us. She didn't have the buffet, but I gather that she managed to find something she could eat on the menu, which is good. I went to our room while they finished eating, helped Andrew with minor envelope stuffing for Jamais Vue, a larp Stephen Tihor, Erik Hanson, and I wrote, which Stephen, Josh, Beth, and I polished twice, and which Andrew's group, Foambrain, was about to try to run.
Andrew was prepared for the game not to go off. After all, it was Friday evening with lousy weather. I called Stephen to update him and tell him not to risk life and limb driving to Lunacon to see a possibly non-existent run. He agreed, and said that he'd expect details, and perhaps photos.
Andrew recruited me and Josh to help, as his team was still en route, and he was concerned about their arriving safely, never mind on time. But, the Great Gods of Larping looked down on us and smiled.
As we were setting up, the room filled. I don't know if everyone was there for the larp; we wound up with 7 players, and there were, I thought, more than 7 people walking into the room. 7 was odd, but doable. And, just before game start, Andrew's team arrived.
Josh and I stayed to watch and help. We got 2 more players. I cast one as the next PC in our casting order. Josh said that he expected both players to wander off, rather than play out the whole game, and that the role I'd filled was fine for that. I put the other player in a role I normally would not have cast so early, but which was fine for a player who might get bored and leave, and whose questionnaire requested a "freewheeling vortex of chaos". Both players did indeed wander off.
The seven who stayed seemed to have fun, as the game spiralled into utter chaos. Josh and Andrew took pictures, and we all took mental notes about what needs to be fixed before the game can be considered truly boxed. We decided how to bring the game to a conclusion, and then did game wrap, with Josh reigning me in when I tried to do it the way we usually do it, as this was a Foambrain run, not a Straightjackets Optional run, and folks had an sf convention's worth of things to get to.
During a minor lull in the game, Josh and I wandered into the con suite, discovering that only one can of diet soda remained, and that whoever was supposed to stock the con suite had put off shopping until the last minute. This would perhaps not normally be a problem, but given the weather, it meant that the consuite was woefully understocked.
After game wrap, Josh and I went to filking, which was breaking up, but Harold Stein had an open mike, and Josh sang a few things. I think I sang one or two as well. We got some sleep after that.
Saturday
I woke up after a few too many heat-influenced dreams, as the thermostat, which claimed it was 65 degrees, was incorrect. We turned it off and grabbed food. I managed to get a shallow cut on the lid of a food tin, which we washed out and bandaged. Marc, Josh, and I headed out, Julian having left already.
I dropped by the food concession, discovering that, while the food was not cheap, it was not as hideously overpriced as I've seen at some conventions. Hot dogs were $2, and brownies $1. The brownies were certainly substantial enough to be worth a buck to me, and way, way sweet.
I went to a 1 pm panel with Ellen Kushner, Darrell Schweitzer, Delia Sherman, and Andrew ***, called ***. It was a lot of fun. Darrell maintained that story is important, and that those experimental works and authors that last are those that use story, but with this codocil: If you are a good enough writer, yes, you can get away with anything. I asked how this was different from saying that good writing is better than bad writing.
Either I or someone else asked basically how one finds out if there is a story inside one, or maybe it was how to get good at this sort of thing -- something to which Delia's answer made perfect sense, and that answer was "Practice, practice, practice." I think one of the reasons I'm unlikely ever to be a Great Novelist is that my practice is in the field of rpgs, larps, reviews, and the occasional academic paper, of which more a bit later.
I wandered for another hour, then went to the Mike Ford memorial panel. Only one of the scheduled panelists actually showed up, Glen***. There was a man in the audience who'd gone to school with Mike, and they informed or reminded the audience that the "M" in John M. Ford stands for "Milo". This was a fun, if bittersweet, panel. It was not as sparkling as the one at Boskone, but it had something that gave it shape and weight -- someone who had been in the larp last night, who had never heard of Ford -- and had never read anything by Gaiman -- but who was intrigued by the passionate discussion in the room came in, and we now had someone to whom we could explain, an audience. Glenn showed the audio-visual presentation he'd made of "110 Stories", which Ford had seen.
After that, I went to the autograph tables to ask Ellen and Delia about the interstitial anthology that Delia had edited, and Ellen asked if Josh and I had yet received an autographed copy of The Privilege of the Sword for doing our dangdest to get her as much feedback on the manuscript (typescript? file that I printed out and Josh read electronically?) as quickly as possible. We hadn't, and Ellen rectified that on the spot. I told her how much a very short scene she'd added , before publication, but after the version that Josh and I had seen, had improved the book, and how much it had been needed, even though I hadn't realized that until I'd read it.
She explained that this scene really had been added at the very last minute. Another woman, I think Debbie Notkin, had sent Ellen feedback via email, but Ellen hadn't received it. They both discovered this during a phone conversation. Ellen had assumed that Debbie had been too busy to send her feedback, while Debbie had assumed that Ellen hadn't liked the feedback. Debbie quickly sent the feedback, and Ellen added the scene in response.
But, the scene in the current published edition isn't quite the scene that Ellen had sent. There are two lines of dialogue that are a bit different, and she's going to or has already put the correct lines on her website, and the small paperback version will have those lines in correctly. As I noted, this does raise interesting questions about what constitutes "the text".
Then, we started talking about Mythcon. I confirmed that Josh and I were going, and noted that the theme of the conference, "The Journey from Apprentice to Master", was a tricky one to write a paper for, especially as I'm more interested in the master part of the equation. Ellen agreed, and said that she wasn't sure what that had to do with her books. Well, she amended, it did apply to The Privilege of the Sword. And to The Fall of the Kings. But, Swordspoint?
I said that it certainly did apply to Swordspoint, something I got confirmation on when telling the story to Teresa Nielsen-Hayden, whose reaction to Ellen's comment as reported by me was, "Excuse me?" in a rising tone of disbelief. Anyway, I started pointing out the web of master-apprentice relationships, and Ellen said, "Well, I guess you've just found your topic." I had to admit that she was right.
By now, Phil Bruccato was talking with Delia, and he said that I was a good person to review stuff because I thought about it and wrote about what I thought and what I liked. So, I kind of floated down the hall to the gaming room, where Marc and I grabbed Josh so that we could do an early enough dinner to make Batya and Merav's concert.
We did the buffet, which was still quite good, and very nicely filling. Then, we went to the concert. Batya and Merav explained that it was not a Lady Mondegreen concert, there being only two performers present, and so they had come up with a name for themselves: The Funny Things.
It was a good concert, and afterwards, Josh and I hooked up with Nancy Leibovitz and headed for the con suite. It was closed for cleaning, but that didn't bug us, especially as it would be serving as the location of a bid party. We found a convenient bench and got into a multi-person impassioned discussion about the flaws and glories of Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings movies. This was me, Josh, Nancy, Eyal, and a woman I know, but whose name I'm blanking on. Josh and I maintain that, while, yes, Jackson made a great trilogy that changed everything, and changed it in many good ways, and yes, many of Jackson's changes really did improve the story, many of Jackson's changes hurt the story, and not just because it wasn't What Tolkien Wrote, but because these changes were Bad Writing. We also maintain that this matters, and that saying, "Well, but what do you expect? It can't be perfect." or something along those lines is totally missing the point, just as I will argue until the armaggeddon to end armaggeddons that making Willow and Anya conveniently stupid for the sake of the plot in the troll episode of Buffy: The Vampire Slayer was a Bad Thing and hurt the show, and saying, "What do you expect?" or "You're expecting too much" just doesn't cut it.
Anyway, the con suite / bid party opened, and I stuffed my face. By now, Josh had headed off, and Julian showed up, at least briefly. Nancy said that she was getting the urge to reread Greer Gilman's book and stories, and I checked and confirmed that I don't have everything Gilman wrote, but I've got at least one, possibly two of her stories. I have the one in Trampoline, and I may have another.
Eventually, Nancy, Eyal, and I wandered to the filk room. Josh had clearly been there, as he'd left his harp. It was time for the themed circle of ***. Abby lead "Home on La Grange". I tried "Female of the Species", which I'm really going to need to listen to some more, as Crystal tells me I was sharp, which is my usual problem.
At one point, Andrew asked if he could borrow something to use as a larp prop. I brought this down from our room, and loaned it to him at the appropriate time. Alas, he returned it almost immediately, the players having dealt with the thread it represented in such a way that he'd felt they'd earned that victory. When he explained the details to me, I agreed.
I also went with Batya to discuss some details of the epistolary game that she, Josh, and I are playing, and that was a lot fun.
We went back to the filk, and Josh found his way there as well. We all did a fair amount of filking, even if it didn't quite go until dawn.
Sunday
We all got packed and out of the room by checkout time. Josh and I found our way to the filk gripe session, where we all agreed that Roberta had done a good, solid job, and that such problems as did crop up were pretty much due to factors out of her control.
Andrew wandered by, and Josh and I managed to have a quick meeting with him and Batya about the larp that Josh, Batya, Merav, Alex, Jon, and I have been working on for many years. We all agreed that we needed to set up a meeting to talk about where we are now and where we're going. Now, Josh, Batya, Andrew, and I found a weekend in April that looks like it might work for the meeting. I've since drawn up an agenda, with Andrew's help.
Phil Bruccato told us that the hotel shuttles weren't running. Dave Weingart came by, and I told Phil that he must, at some point in the future, hear Dave's song "The Wild Hunt". Hm, if Phil hasn't heard Leigh Ann Hussey's songs, he should hear those as well.
Batya, Alex, Josh, and I managed to get all our stuff together, locate Merav to say goodbye, and get the hotel to summon us a cab. I still do not know if Phil was correct about the hotel shuttle, as someone at the front desk was convinced that it was running.
Still, we got into the cab, and I think Phil found a lift. The cab took us to the station with time enough for Batya, Alex, and Josh to get tickets from the machine. I had the second half of my round trip with me. The train came with gratifying speed, and it took us home.
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