Wednesday: what I can recall

There's a brief flash of panic, when I think I left the outfit Im supposed to show off at DragonCon back in my apartment. That panic is dispelled when I realize that I actually packed it after all. We made the first leg of the journey in relative quiet: silentq, Fudjo, and couplinchaos all part of the fellowship, off to DragonCon in Atlanta. We arrived in Manchester late, and crasehd out on the futon and air mattress my father provided for us. Seven hours of driving were behind us. Twelve more hours lay ahead.

I planned to write more, but Im finally feeling the lack of sleep creeping up on me, smacking me in head with mallets, reminding me that sleep is necessary. I'm not traveling in Con mode anymore, and for the first time in many days a comfortable bed, an entire bed, awaits my sleeping pleasure.

And you, Dear Reader, will soon be subjected to the fury of 20,000 goths, geeks, and gamers partaking in the decadent madness that was DragonCon.

Thursday: A long day's journey...

The first few hours of any trip are the worst. Driving is easy initially, on a full stomach and fortified with caffeine or your energy bomb of choice. Then the headaches start, and your eyes want to close. You're not really tired, it's just too much focus, for two long. It's unexpected in our short attention span lives. Fortunately, two hours or so in, people are ready for a rest break, and I'm glad to take one. One energy bomb later, we're back on the road. There's a hyper sense of alertness in my body, I take in the sight of green hills, grey skies, rolling valleys. And the eyes really want to shut. Then another stop, for refueling and lunch. Now, the body has was it needs, and with laser like intensity and an industrial soundtrack the miles and hours fly by. My copilot reminds me that I should have my car inspected after the trip, and we make plans to do so. I'm psyched to be able to do basic maintenance on my own car, it's the kind of life skills that everyone should have. Everyone should know how to change a tire, know their way around a kitchen, be able to iron your own clothes. Night descends and we talk and history and nations, and the problems of the world, and how just a few simple things can make a lot of difference. The road widens, the sky gleams with electricity and towers of light and glass; we are in downtown Atlanta. Twelve hours have gone by. We check in and discover that they didn't hold our rooms, despite my calling and reminding them, and being assured that everything would be OK. We get smaller rooms, at no extra charge, and I learn about the trails and tribulations surrounding young recruits for the Dallas Cowboys before I go to bed. Lying on the table next to my bed is my badge for the Con. My passport into a familiar world, but oh so strange...

Next: It begins.