Author Archives: Eric

Comfortable and uncomfortable

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All in the same me.

I’m working really hard to get my creativity on track and start getting some work out the door. My slump has cost me – I don’t think I’m being invited as a guest to my favorite convention again this year. I really would like to change that. It’s depressing and a little daunting to be dependent on others that way. I’m planning to move out of my comfort zone and try something new. I’ve had a couple of brief chats with some friends and it seems like something that *might* be able to happen. I think this Friday will be a test of that. I’ll not be at work and have the opportunity to set up one of the first steps toward making it happen.

Right in the middle of all my inner turmoil I’ve found a way back to a creative spark I haven’t felt in years. Some friends asked me about my “secret” passion – Dungeons and Dragons. I put secret in quotes because I am, and likely always will be, hesitant about telling others I play in person. Don’t ask me – I don’t understand my hang ups that well. The point is, I crawled up to the attic and dragged 6 or 8 boxes down from storage. I’ve been thumbing through old character sheets (Morgan Firedrake lives on!) and adventure notes from games I’d run in the past. I had forgotten the shear volume of work. I had neglected that creative push that was trying to stay ahead of a band of smart, experienced adventurers. It’s been really fun along with motivating.

So – there will be more on my vague “something new” project as soon as it becomes something more than a daydream. Until then, I’ve got lots of work to do (just as soon as I make one more choice in my pick your own path adventure book).

Did We Win

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This is a post of my rant that was originally published in Watch The Skies. I have edited it for print version references from the original. IF you’d like to see it in the Fanzine, check it out over at Watch The Skies!

There’s been a lot of talk over the past few years about how geek chic and other indicators show how “we’ve won” from the “nerd” point of view. “There’s all those comic book movies and that TV show with those funny nerds and just look how important computers are!”

Bullshit.

What we have is the opposite of winning in the worst ways. It’s loss of identity combined with the strip mining of things once proudly known, only to feed the masses entertainment that makes them all believe they’re one of the “neglected” or “unpopular” side of society. I hate that I feel that way, but this feeling is deep inside me and it won’t let go.

A few weeks back I read a story about a convention that was attacked. There’s no other way to put it. If the same thing happened at a hotel where a political event were happening the entire place would have been crawling with very serious looking talking heads wondering if it was another example of domestic terrorism and likely trying to tie it to the middle east somehow. If it was your local high school football game it would probably have been handled better. Instead, what we got was a supposed news person that fails to maintain professional composure and what amounts to a “human interest” story mentioned only in passing. I’m not going to revisit all the details as it really is old news. You can read some really good takes on the story here and here. This is just the latest on a long list of things that concern me about the fan community. It might seem a little crazy or perhaps over-reactive.

At one of our recent meetings I was talking about that attack among other things and the starting point, the basis, of why I feel this way. I realized a huge segment of the population doesn’t understand because they weren’t there. I mentioned something about “The Satanic Panic” and got a questioning look. No idea what I was talking about. No idea why I was upset or what in the world I was blathering on about. It stopped me short.

That moment made me think about my reaction. Is it really just me? After a great deal of introspection I thought, maybe, but it will take me a long, long time before I’m willing to speak with abandon. I keep my passion close to me and let very few others in. Deep down inside I’m still worried about reactions the way I was when I was 12. How many people will turn and walk away because I’m associated with that “devil game”? Maybe they’ll hand me a pamphlet on how to save myself. How many people who might have still been my friends were denied that because their parents bought into the hysteria of the day? How many people won’t take me seriously because my art or my writing “look like that nerdy stuff”? How many times was “that dummies game where nobody wins” talked down or belittled even though it would become a life long attachment for me? Perhaps there will be a couple more books or movies that claim a position of “factual relevance” while disparaging music and games. Forgive me if I’m hesitant to put myself out there.

Clearly it’s not that I won’t talk about my hobbies. It’s not that I will deny loving science fiction or fantasy. I spend a great deal of time reading, writing, gaming and all other manner of fan based things. I help run conventions now. I write in fanzines.

But I know my audience when I’m doing those things. I’m still in the relatively sheltered alcove where others like me hang out. It’s mostly safe. I still don’t trust people outside of fields related directly to these pursuits. The news person from the convention attack is just the highest profile, most recent version of that.

I hope that I can use this small essay as a starting point. I want to avoid my knee jerk reaction. I’d like to be positive and sharing of the things I’m most passionate about. I want to avoid becoming the stereotypical anti-social curmudgeon warding off people with random expressions of anger. I’ve tried to look for the bright side. There are positive articles out there. Stories that talk about “lifestyle” or show the “benefits” of playing like I always have. There is so much good and fun it needs to be shared.

Have we won? No, we haven’t but our hobbies and passions have never really been about winning, have they?

Rebound

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My friends have all asked me about my new job. I’ve been able to answer them but it’s been bothering me that I hadn’t written anything down about the whole experience. There’s this nagging feeling that while I was laid off I should have been writing fifty thousand words a day, painting a new masterpiece while still tracking down work. I don’t know why I feel this, but it’s there floating around in the back of my mind, lurking, waiting for something to pop up and say “told you so”.

It doesn’t work that way.

So, here are some of the things that have been rolling around in my mind with regards to my time off from work and my time since returning to work.

A friend of mine said that losing a job was the most emasculating thing that could happen. I thought about it for a long time after that statement. When I was laid off it was out of the blue. There were no indicators. My direct supervisor didn’t know how it was going to happen. As I look back at the way he stated things when he called the following week to apologize to me I suspect he may have known more than he let on. I was in shock really. I had no time to consider it – I just had to turn in all my stuff and go. I didn’t have to go home, but I couldn’t stay there as the old saying goes. I would get one more paycheck and that was that.

Emasculating? I don’t think it’s the right term. It’s not the right way to state it if that’s the intent. I do know there are ways to handle it, and there are ways to handle it. I didn’t rage or scream or cry or whatever. I drove to the house trying to figure out what to do next. When I got home there were guests over and lots of activity. I bypassed all that to see my wife first. Just as I walked into our room she kicked off a shoe and it thumped against the closet door really loudly.

“What the hell was that?” I asked.

She swiveled her head toward me and said, “The body in my closet. What the hell do you think it was?”

“Well, does the body in your closet have a damn job?” I asked.

“No. Do you?” came her immediate reply.

“UH… no I don’t.”

Pause. Pause. “Oh shit… you’re serious.”

So – like I said, there are ways and there are ways. Sometimes you need to laugh – even when it’s got that slightly hysterical edge to it. So we laughed a little and then spent some time talking about what our next steps were. It’s all we could do.

I don’t wish for the time to work on things anymore. Careful what you wish for – you might get it.

I scoured the paper, job sites, Craigslist, whatever I could find looking for a job to jump up and present itself. I had 3 folks ask me to send a resume the day after I was laid off. I was really hopeful. I had an interview just a couple of weeks later. Not so bad I was thinking. I’ll get this all wrapped up and we won’t need to cancel Christmas.

Then I didn’t get that job. Or the next one. Or the next one. I sent at least 3 resumes out every week looking for anything related to my field. It was emotionally draining, that’s for sure. I don’t think I realized that’s what it was until just now. Emotionally drained. I would work on projects, but my heart wasn’t in it. I got a lot of stuff done around the house. We didn’t have dirty dishes or un-swept floors or much in the way of dirty laundry – but all that felt like busy work. I was treading water and still not making any progress on my creative work.

I had “all the time in the world” and didn’t finish a damn thing. Not one creative project got done.

Maybe that’s what my friend meant by emasculating? Not sure. It certainly took the wind out of my sails, no doubt about that. We have always lived, financially speaking, below our means. We’re not in any way rich but we actually create for ourselves something I call “artificial poverty”. We plan our budget based on what if only one of us has a job? or how do we figure it out with less money? One of the most important things we did a long time ago was decide what the few things are that we won’t compromise on. We stuck to those things and started trimming down all the other stuff we were willing to compromise on. Our diet went out the window. The least expensive foods out there are not the healthy ones. We cut our grocery bill in half almost immediately though.

We tried to keep things as normal as possible for our daughter. We kept the special program at the school running for her as long as we could. We wanted her to know that this would mean a change but that we would all be OK no matter what happened. She shrugged and said, “OK” and that was that. I love her to pieces. Totally unflappable. Right up until we had to tell her we had to cancel the special trip we had planned for Christmas. That sucked a lot.

I had, insanely perhaps, clung to the notion that I’d not miss a beat and bounce right back into my specialized kind of position and no worries. Not so much. Christmas was very Whoville for us. It was still wonderful, but it came without the same level of boxes and bows.

Three and a half months. Not the worst amount of time off I’ve heard or the worst even of folks I know. Still not a fantastic amount of time to be out of work. Particularly not right through the holiday season. Then I had an interview that was not only encouraging, but downright hopeful. It sounded like one of those “too good to be true” situations. Turns out – it was just true.

I got picked up at a firm about 3 ½ miles from my house. When the weather clears up a little bit I could probably walk to work without a problem. It’s exactly the kind of mix that works best for what I like to do. I get a little bit of everything and not too much of any one thing.

My first week back was exhausting. Despite keeping to a strict time schedule and continuing to get up early every day the change of going back on the job was a big one. No more 2 hour movie lunches. No more naps when you might need them. All the cleaning that was handled so easily before got bumped right back to the old way of getting to it. I was happy to be exhausted.

The new place is quirky and weird, but is growing on me. I’m hoping I’ll be there for quite a long while. Six weeks now and things don’t show any signs of slowing down.

Did I learn anything? I think I did. I remembered that when things go wrong the people closest to you pull together and help you get through. I learned a number of techniques for slimming down the amount of money spent each month. I learned that a lot of places not only understand, but have plans in place for when people lose their jobs. I learned that some places don’t understand – or if they do, they don’t care. Most of all, I learned that the right mind set will carry you a long way. It was very easy to become deeply depressed over all the things that were “wrong” while I was out of work. It wasn’t as easy, but it was much more rewarding to stay positive and work toward getting back to work.

I also learned that I really do value the things I do outside of “the day job”. I like writing here. I like getting my stories out there for consideration by publishers. I like working on my artwork. Working on these things isn’t really work at all – it’s just a question of finding the time now that I’m back on a full and busy schedule 😉

20

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One of my closest friends, the man who introduced me to my wife was stunned when I told him that Wednesday is the 20th anniversary of my wedding.

I am more happy and more in love now than I ever imagined I could be. Twenty years is not enough. I need forever.

20th

The Return of Addiction (Television)

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Today is the day of “The Big Game”. I still don’t understand why I’m not allowed to call it what it actually is – but that’s a different topic. I’ll be watching this evening and I won’t be too worried about atmospheric interference. We have television again – and not just the intermittent broadcast signal. We’ve “spliced” the cut cable.

I know it’s not some great big announcement or anything beyond average really, but to me it IS a big deal. This month (February) would be the three year anniversary of cutting cable and essentially shutting off television. I had thought I’d never turn it back on and I was convinced enough to put it in writing when I missed the not-so-super bowl last year (Oscar Who?). That box in the corner really is an addiction and it was very, very easy to slip back into dangerous habits.

Why? That’s a good question.

At the end of last year I was laid off. Three and a half months (particularly through the holidays) is enough time to convince anyone that more dramatic cost cutting measures than those you already took need to be looked into. Just as these thoughts were crossing my mind I got a notice from the cable company that my rates would be going up again for my internet connection. I gave up TV, but I need the internet to hunt for work. Pay more for it while not having a job? Yeah, awesome… or NOT. I started to take notice of the competition that was constantly “knocking at my door” and wondering if I was interested in taking a look at what they had to offer. Well, if I could save money I was interested for sure.

Turns out the competition was willing to bend over backwards to get me on board. I got better net connection speed for just a little less each month PLUS they’d throw in two years of their television service including a year of premium channels, a year of Netflix service and a free tablet. It wasn’t really much of a choice. The old provider didn’t have a chance against that. They tried when I called them to shut things off, but it was a half hearted attempt. They knew they couldn’t compete.

The competition was also fast. They wanted me on their team ASAP. Just a few days after saying I’d make the deal they had a guy at the house hooking everything up the way I wanted it and making certain he did neat, clear, professional work. It was probably the smoothest transition I’ve had between companies for just about anything I’ve done.

And then, there it was. The remote control was just sitting there waiting for me to figure out where all my old channels were. If I couldn’t see what I wanted just then, there was ON DEMAND that allowed me to pick up a show whenever I wanted. It was easy. I just needed to sit down and fiddle with the buttons for a few minutes. Simple.

So, after almost three years away I’m connected again. I’m really not sure I feel good about it. I’ve certainly not been shy about watching things – but I think that’s part of the issue. There have already been a handful of times when I knew I should be working on something when I decided I would just take a spin through the on screen guide to see if there was anything on. I’d take a few minutes doing that, reading show notes and looking ahead in the schedule to see if I needed to be sure to be back in my seat for anything coming up. Then I’d see a re-run of a film I really liked or a show I’d heard about but not seen and I’d settle back and see what the hype was all about. Some hours later I’d realize I’d missed my chance to actually work on whatever project was now cold and without inspiration in the other room. I really can’t imagine how hard this is for a physical addiction. It certainly gives a certain amount of perspective.

Even as I sit here typing I can feel the siren call from the other room. Creating things is hard to do well and it takes all that time and practice and typing hurts your wrist and wouldn’t it be easier to just come to the couch and sit here? There’s not really anything on, but you never know you might find something, right? There are commercials for the upcoming commercials that should run in the big game and 86 and a half hours of pregame show and so many other things you need just the same way you need your net connection…

I’m hoping as the new-ness factor wears off that I’ll have better impulse control when it comes to watching things and how much time I allot for that. The combination of going back to work (the tired that goes with that) and the availability of ‘entertainment’ that asks nothing in return has been rough on my creativity. It’s not all bad. I have shared some shows with the family that were fun to watch. I’ve caught up on some genre movies I’d been meaning to watch. The key here is the perspective my time away has given me. The television isn’t that important. I can walk away any time (and likely will once the 2 free years are up). Until I walk away, I’ll just have to be sure my projects are getting top billing and avoid the ease of sitting on the couch and staring at nothing for hours on end.

I’ll let you know how all that works out… but probably not until after the game is over.

Spliced Cable

My Un-requested Response

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I’ve been away for a while. Most people get apologetic about blog-fade and commit to doing more. I’ve even done that in the past. Not this time. Real world stuff happens ~ and I’ll post more about that later.

I’ve been thinking about role playing and how much I miss it lately. Work, parenting and other things have combined to leave me very little time for it, but I hope to get back to it someday soon. When I started playing it was all about the fun of getting together with friends and firing up our imaginations. I’ve still got my entire collection of stuff. As I look back at them, they are round and worn at the edges. Collectors everywhere are certainly twitching at the idea of a colored in with colored pencils version of the inside cover art. We weren’t collecting, we were playing, having fun, letting our imaginations run wild. We fought off the monsters, we were the heroes in a time when the world seemed against us. So, in a totally unasked for and unexpected response to a friend posting some other person’s favorites list, here’s a list of my Top 10 favorite old school D&D modules.

#1 I can’t really argue with this at the top of the list. It’s a first for many and fun for most. Some very memorable stuff in there.

B2: The Keep on the Borderlands by Gary Gygax (1979)

#2 I liked the story elements in this next one. I actually have used it more than once in various forms in my own campaigns, often adding other little touches to make the story matter to the current set of characters.

B3 Palace of the Silver Princess by Tom Moldvay and Jean Wells (1983)

#3 As always, being the hero on a mission… we just sturggled to get past that muddy patch before we even got to the gate!

A-1 Slave Pits of the Undercity by David Cook (1980)

#4 I loved the problem solving mixed in with the action. I actually think I have 2 copies of this around here someplace.

C-2 The Ghost Tower of Inverness by Allen Hammack (1979)

#5 I was blown away by the art ~ particularly the maps of this module (and the series really). I didn’t like being channeled toward the same story line, but man was this a pretty module.

DL-1 Dragons of Despair by Tracy Hickman (1984)

#6 I was totally delighted when I found so much of this in the book Ready Player One. I’m glad it’s had the unlife it’s had! The quintessential “I’m mad at my players, I’m going to kill them all horribly now” module.

S-1 Tomb of Horrors by Gary Gygax (1978)

#7 This one was a high level quest that had a lot of weird stuff in it. My favorite part was attempting to envision three dimensionally how the web map worked and what happened when you tried to jump from one piece to another.

Q-1 Queen of the Demonweb Pits by Gary Gygax and David Sutherland (1980)

#8 As I went through these as a kid I was usually drawn to the action, but this module had a lot of story based encounters that relied on avoiding violence. It was fresh to me in that way.

UK-1 Beyond The Crystal Cave by Browne, Kirby and Morris (1983)

#9 The unusual treasures and my friends use of said treasures in new and creative ways are really the things that stick out most about this module in my memory… seriously, folding boats?

S-4 The Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth by Gary Gygax (1982)

#10 It’s kind of cheating to put this one on the end – because it’s really three in one. I didn’t get the originals on their own, I got this version and loved it.

G1-2-3 Against The Giants by Gary Gygax (1981)

So there they are – my top 10. They live in nostalgia in my mind and still have a place on my shelves here at the house. There were many other modules and after that world settings that I really wanted to dig deeper into. The longer into the late 80s and early 90s I went, the more difficult it became to keep up with everything, let alone play it all. I was always intrigued by the Spelljammer stuff but never got to play it. I loved the look of the Desert of Desolation series, and was really happy to see the Al Quadim setting. I actually won some art from the Al Quadim setting when I was at Gen Con just as it was coming out. The picture below is from that set of art. Sadly I feel a little like the genie as I come to the end of this post. All of these treasures are just there at my fingertips but I’m being pulled back toward all those “real world” things I’m supposed to be taking care of…

AlQadim_Genie

New all over again

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I’ve talked about this before, but I think it bears repeating.

Back when I could go to the gym (yes, I could *go* now, but with my back, why?) I heard something that has stuck with me ever since. It was funny, but only because there was such truth buried in there. As I was walking to a machine that had just opened up in the middle of the crowd one of the other regulars (a much older gentleman) said, ” I just wish all these damn resolutionists would give up and go home already. I’m trying to finish my set.”

It’s true. This time of year brings out all the annual promises to self and others that have diminishing returns as the days go by. It’s a crazy small percentage of resolutions that actually cause a shift or permanent change.

I made a resolution many years ago and I’ve stuck with it ever since. I resolved never to make another new year’s resolution. Guess what? I haven’t. Total success.

There are a lot of people out there that scoff when I say that. They think I’m being flippant or mocking others “that really want to try”. I don’t want to try… I want to succeed. Do, or do not – there is no try. Yes, I am totally a child of media and will quote Yoda when it’s convenient. That is where the truth of the matter is for me. If you’re really interested in making a change, does it have to coincide with the new year? Changing something just for the sake of a date on a calendar isn’t going to work. A real, honest with yourself change will happen when you’re ready to make that happen. Once you reach that point, the change will stick.

So that was my resolution story – how are yours going?

The Hobbit III or Are We There Yet?

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Three films. Really? Yes, really.

I’ve talked about my thoughts on Peter Jackson’s Hobbit trilogy before. Since then my view has deflated like a balloon left long after the party has moved on, just hovering through the middle of the room never reaching the height it once attained and knowing it will end up on the floor, or worse in the end.

I had the opportunity to go and see the final installment, but was forced by schedule to go to see it in the dread 3D. I went, but I didn’t have high hopes. The middle film had moments but I just wasn’t certain the folks on Jackson’s team could pull off the mind numbing spectacular ending they would need to blow past the critics and wow the viewing audience. I hated the very idea of seeing this in 3D. In the end 3D didn’t detract from the film particularly but it didn’t add anything either. Save the money and see it flat if you see it in the theater. IF you see it in the theater. I was not moved by this film at all. The above mentioned mind numbing? It was administered in drawn out, wannabe heartfelt moments that lacked impact because they were so far removed from the rest of the movie. All the positive character development and relationship emphasis faded over the course of the year. What was left felt like… leftovers.

Smaug, the five minute preface to some other film? That’s what we got here. Yes, the special effects were magnificent but the impact was lost. The gap killed the dragon with certainty. Not the gap in his scales, the gap between his start as this amazing horror and his ignoble end. Time killed his power more than any black arrow.

Love and death can be heart wrenching, gut twisting and draw tears from the most stoic. Time and distance don’t kill love in the real world, but it flat out kills the impact of it in the movies. It was strained and made up and it didn’t work for me. I don’t begrudge Kili a love life, I just don’t want it in the movie. It took up space and watered down other relationships that could have had more impact. Think back on Two Towers when Gimli tells Eowyn that Aragorn has fallen in battle. The emotion there is a punch to the heart. If you’re going off the books, do it well or don’t do it at all!

Cross dressing jokes? Not in the film – save them for the gag reels. I’m not going to discuss these any more. This… this I blame Hollywood for.

I suspect that when all the film parts are watched together they will have a greater impact and the gaps that killed the theater going experience will be minimized. There will still need to be gaps – most humans will need a break somewhere in the eight hours or whatever it will be to see all the films at once.

IF you saw the other two parts in the theater, see the third one there too, but don’t rush. I’ll be interested to see how many box sets of this are created when all of the movie bits are finally released to DVD. If you’ve skipped the theater experience so far, definitely wait for all the parts to hit DVD and check them out in the comfort of your own home (with your own ability to pause for pee breaks!).

i09 says this: http://io9.com/everything-they-said-about-making-three-hobbit-movies-w-1671978013 and I agree.

Bridesmaid Brawl – Defend the Pizza!

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I just wanted a beer and some quiet conversation with friends I don’t get to see often enough. That’s one of the best parts of going to a convention after all. After Saturday night at the bar in the convention hotel I can say there are times when quiet conversation might be overrated.

A small group of us sat at our table off to the side of the bar area. We had dwindled to the last four, Brian, Christine, Kelly and myself. At least part of the reason the crowd dwindled was the noise level in the bar. The majority of the crowd was comprised of two wedding parties. The receptions for these groups were earlier in the day at the hotel and now some of the guests had decided to carry those revels on long into the night… with 90s pop songs played so loud it was impossible for me to hear what the people sitting next to me were saying without shouting. Brian’s voice carried well enough for me to hear.

“Please tell me this is happening.” Brian wanted to turn and stare, but we advised against it. Directly behind him two of the ‘leftover’ bridesmaids had decided they would dance with each other since nobody else would dance with them. They had progressed, fairly rapidly, from dancing to slow dancing with a dip involved. They were becoming quite familiar with each other.

“Yes, it’s happening. They’re practicing for their own wedding. They don’t realize it yet, but that’s what it is. I’m glad gay weddings are allowed in New Jersey now.” Christine seemed happy to let it go at that.

“But why is it happening behind me?” Brian was holding up his smart phone. “I’m going to pretend to be taking a selfie and see if I can get this on camera.”

“I’m going for more drinks.” Christine headed for the bar.

We didn’t know it at the time, but that refill actually had excellent timing. It was going to be the last round for the night. It didn’t take long before Christine was back and amused.

“You should have seen the horrified look on that poor guys face.” She handed out drinks all around. “He volunteered to get a round of shots. Six shots and sixty dollars later he didn’t look happy.”

In the background noise we heard a shrill voice cut through, “I’m hangry!”

I didn’t realize that was even a word. It is apparently the mashing together of hungry and angry. It was also one of those times I realized that stereotypes exist for a reason. I don’t think an actor could have made up the New Jersey accent that went along with the pronunciation. I was glad I wasn’t closer to the person making that statement. The sound cut through everything around it, including my head.

Since the kitchen was closed and the bar had no food someone in bridal party one decided it would be a great idea to have food delivered to the bar in the hotel. A call was made and a short time later a delivery driver wandered through the lobby with his warming bags filled with the wonderful cheesy goodness that is pizza. Bridal party one stacked the pies on a nearby table and went back to the serious business of drinking themselves to oblivion… and that choice started the cascade.

Somebody from bridal party two thought cheesy goodness was a great idea. That person wandered over and snatched pizza from the stack. The amount of pizza taken is in question here. The action happened behind me to my right. I thought it was a single slice, but Brian contends it was an entire box of pizza. I would be quicker to forgive somebody’s grubby mitts on the outside of the box than to forgive getting their fingers inside and potentially onto the crust of the slice I might eat next. Bridal party one was not in the giving, or forgiving mood after so many shots. They called out the pizza thief.

Begin the downward spiral.

Heated words, mostly profane or unintelligible were shouted in exchange. Members of each bridal party moved into position based on their desire to defend or hold back various other members of the bridal parties. Shouting slid to shoving. Shoving ratcheted up the shouting. Drunken warriors decided that shoving was the sort of insult not to be taken lightly.

A punch was thrown.

I couldn’t see who it was. I don’t know that it matters in the end. I’m certain there are people on both sides of this mess that will point fingers at others for years to come. That punch was like the starter pistol at a foot race. That’s when the brawl started. It’s been a lot of years since I’d witnessed a melee like that. There was shouting and shoving. There were punches and teams of people trying to hold back the most loudly drunken or dangerous (or both) in the crowd. In my experience holding someone back only opens them up to a head-shot from the opposition, and that held true in this case. Chairs tumbled. People tumbled. Bodies surged back and forth across the length and width of the bar area.

Imagine if you will the musicians on the deck of the sinking Titanic. This was our table. There we sat, sipping our last round and commentating while chaos swirled around us. Miraculously we avoided the surging mess. Brian picked up his phone. “I need to record this. It will be a YouTube hit.”

I responded, “Dude, IF you record it and somebody sees you recording it your phone will end up becoming ‘Exhibit A’ in the court case. Do you really want that?”

“Good point. I’m down to my last bar anyway, I don’t know if I’ve got enough battery to get the whole thing.”

The “clean up” lights all came on and the music screeched to a halt. The bar manager whistled loud enough to get some attention and then she screamed into the masses, “That’s it! This party is over and you all have to get out! The police have been called!” There was a lull as the various parties pulled back and regrouped. We thought it was over. That’s when the Greyhound appeared. It was the only way I could describe this woman. She had to be six feet tall. She was rail thin and her cheek bones had the elongated structure that always reminds me of an animal. She would have been sleek and fast looking except for the bulbous chest attachments. They couldn’t have been real breasts. They were so round an prominently displayed they should have had an advertisement for the manufacturer on them. She was still dressed for the wedding reception. She was wearing a skin tight green mini dress and high heels.

Quick side note here – observing something like this tends to lead to confusion. I called the dress green, Christine called the dress blue and Brian called it purple – all in the course of the same conversation. Three witnesses to the exact same event with multiple descriptions of the same mini dress. Some details will be lost to history, some will continue to be debated and some will be resolved. We resolved that Brian’s fashion assessment was dead wrong almost immediately and settled for teal.

Greyhound took exception to something that was said from the crowd. She lashed out. Lashed out makes it sound more vicious than it really was. She was the next example of stereotypes existing for a reason, she totally hit like a girl. It’s not a fair stereotype, but there you have it. Her swing was so ineffectual that she attempted to move on to another form of attack. It may have been an abortive attempt at a kick that was restricted by the tight green mini dress. It may have been her secret Muay Thai training and she was attempting a knee strike. It amounted to a total fail in every way except one. The brawl was off and running again.

People that were holding others back turned and joined the fray. Those that had been slowly heading toward the exit were suddenly in the path of destruction. People ended up tumbling over the railings placed in the false windows out into the main hotel lobby. The hollow coconut sound of a head striking something solid was heard over the rest of the sounds along with the meaty slap of flesh landing on tile. We were certain somebody wasn’t going to get up but the human body can endure a great deal of punishment when fueled by alcohol. I think I saw blood. Brian confirmed it, there was blood. Christine confirmed that one of the guys lost his shirt… it made me question for just a moment if some women see fighting in a far different light then men. I was distracted from that thought as some of the mass surged toward our table. The chairs beside us were knocked over, the table slid our direction.

Christine grabbed the edge of our table, “If they come this way I’m flipping this table.”

Brian looked at me. Unspoken rule flashed between us. Don’t make eye contact or you’re “in”. I shook my head. I had no desire to join this disaster in the making. I’ve seen the results of events like this in the past and nobody comes out a winner.

The crowd surged to the lobby. The police arrived. Things finally began to wind to a close. Thankfully Brian and Christine, being the amiable folks they are, had a good relationship with one of the bartenders. Said bartender wandered over to our table to reassure us, “Guys just sit tight. We know this mess had nothing to do with you. Once there’s a clear path you can head out. Really sorry, but we’re closing early.” So there we still sat, finishing the last of our drinks and chatting about all the action. Christine released her grip from the edge of our table and pulled the cloth up to look at the legs.

“It’s probably good that I didn’t flip this. The legs aren’t what I thought. All this would have totally landed on you.” Christine half smiled as she looked my way. I was not comforted by it.

Another minute or two and we stood and wandered to the bar to finish our conversation with the bartender. He started by telling us this wasn’t actually the worst brawl he’d seen. There was apparently another occasion when the hotel had booked five receptions on the same day including one for police officers. That days festivities kicked off when one group claimed their bride was by far the prettiest of all those in attendance that day. I thought that was far too subjective a concept to fight over. Defend the pizza was a much more clear cut battle cry. I looked around. Other than some smeared cheese and pepperoni and a half mashed pepper, the pizza (and the box) was gone. I think it was saved, but I won’t know for certain until the cell phone video we saw being recorded (by somebody else) makes it to the internet.

I wanted to listen in to the rest of the story the bartender was telling but I was distracted by the only other person still in the bar. There was also a girls soccer team staying in the hotel this weekend. We’d seen them in various encounters with parts of the convention on and off through the day. One soccer dad had taken the opportunity after the team curfew to hit the bar. His eyes were bloodshot and watery. He only swayed a little as he stood there.

“Is this some kind of convention?” he asked. It sounded a little slurred, but not a great deal. He was right on the edge of happy.

“Yeah, there’s a science fiction convention here this weekend but this brawl didn’t have anything to do with it. That was the bridal parties.” I answered him.

“Do you guys do this every year?” he forged ahead without really hearing my answer.

“Yes, the Philadelphia Science Fiction Society holds a convention every year.” I turned my head trying to catch more of the bartenders story.

“I wanted to know because tonight was awesome,” he continued with drunken emphasis. “I got kissed by a guy in a dress, I saw a geisha with a phoenix cape and a skunk in a wheel chair. I totally have to come back next year!”

“Well, those folks were part of the convention, but there’s so much more. There are authors, costumers, artists, editors, publishers, and anyone else that’s connected to science fiction and fandom in the area.” I wasn’t sure where this was going.

“Science fiction? Like zombies and stuff? My kids totally think the zombie apocalypse will be a real thing.” He quirked his brow and did his best drunken serious look.

“Well, zombies are part of the whole thing but some of that strays into horror as well.” I had turned hoping that subtle body language would work.

“We totally need to stay in touch man. This was awesome.”

I did the only thing I could think of at the time. I reached into my pocket and gave him my friend Jay’s business card. “That would be great man. Take this and look up these zombie stories. I’m sure the girls will like them.”

He thanked me and with a happy smile wandered off to find his room, or the next bit of excitement for the evening. I’ll never know.

We decided we’d had enough for one night and headed for our rooms. It was almost too much to take in, the level of stupid that fueled our entertainment for the evening. Heading back into the room I was splitting with three other folks was the first step on the road to an epic story. Kelly, who had been remarkably quiet through most of the proceedings spoke up as soon as we got through the door, “Ruth you decided to call it a night about fifteen minutes too early. You’re never going to believe what happened just after you left…”

By the time I was leaving the convention the next afternoon the story of the bridesmaid brawl of 2014 had already come back around and was being passed back to our group, “Did you hear what happened at the bar last night?”

I didn’t hear. I didn’t need to, I was there.

I forgot my socks – or – Philcon 2014

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This was the first time I was an invited guest of Philcon. I was very excited to attend. I have attended other conventions, even working on staff, for a number of years but had very little experience with this convention. Being asked to be there as a guest was just fantastic.

It’s good to be lucky in friends – and I am. I was able to hitch a ride with my friend Mary and split a room 4 ways with some other friends. It was nostalgic to get back to that kind of feeling, get to the con on a tight budget. My friends made my convention much more fun than it might have otherwise been. I had a great weekend – even if I did forget my socks. I remembered to do the laundry before I departed, just missed that one little detail on the way out the door.

The folks working the convention were nothing but nice to me. Long before everything got underway I threw myself on the mercy of the program committee. I was rewarded greatly! I was able to be on a technology panel, two art panels, a literary panel, a gaming panel and a fan panel! It was a remarkably diverse set of folks I got to hang out with and I was thrilled to meet some new friends and fellow fans.

There was great conversation and interesting viewpoints. I’m not going to give a panel for panel breakdown here. The best way to get in on these conversations is to attend. Get out there and go to a convention! You might discover an artist or author you like. You could hear how language is being preserved, how long is too long for a book series or where a really good fan fiction site is. You could watch an anime you’ve never had the chance to see or play a game you’ve wanted to try ever since you heard about it from a friend.

IF you’re really lucky you’ll be part of an epic story like the Bridesmaid Brawl… Defend the Pizza!

This great weekend was not without its issues. I was fortunate not to have issues of my own, but many of the folks I know did have problems. I heard complaints about the failings of other guest schedules. There were tracks or topics that had been on program for many years that failed to appear this year. The schedules were delivered late and the web site was terribly slow to update. The actual schedule for things like the opening of the dealer room were in question. Certain events failed to get advertising and died before ever getting off the ground. The con suite seemed to be thin on the snack front. It could have been the times I was there, but for the most part the gaming suite was far better stocked (the bonus being you could jump in on a game while you snacked as well). These sort of things can happen to a convention being run by fans and volunteers. There was one thing I noticed that can’t happen to a convention – at least not often or the convention will fail.

Attendees were few and far between. It might have been timing – world fantasy convention was just a week or two before and it was in Washington DC so many folks that might have gone to Philcon could have blown the budget there and skipped this year. It might have been the proximity to Thanksgiving travel. I could be completely wrong about the number of folks that were there – but it certainly didn’t feel that way. I saw a lot of empty seats at the panels. There certainly weren’t crowds in the hallways. I was on one panel where the panelists outnumbered the audience two to one. It made for a conversational atmosphere while we were sitting there but it worries me for the future. I hope more folks sign up and show up. This con gave me the feeling it was old, possibly dying and that would be a shame.

I hope next year to be invited again. I hope you will sign up and get there too. I also hope I remember my socks next year.