The Chicago TARDIS post
I honestly have mixed feelings about my time at Chicago TARDIS.
On one hand, it was an exquisitely good time. I met a bunch of fantastic people that I have long since admired from afar and exchanged words with several of them, including: India Fisher (omg Charley), Rob Shearman (writer of only the most disturbing audios), Tony Lee (writer of -- sorry everyone else -- the best Doctor Who comics I've ever read), Nick Briggs (the voice of the Daleks, of course, but also a brilliant writer, director, and producer), Gary Russell (whose writing credits include Zagreus amongst many other things), Jason Haigh-Ellery (who founded Big Finish for which he is my hero), Daphne Ashbrook (who wins major geek points for wearing a Four scarf all weekend), and Paul McGann (who needs no introduction). The highlight of the event was definitely the Big Finish folks, who were all friendly and happy to chat -- and at times even approached us when we didn't approach them.
I am, personally, the shy and quiet sort, and my thinking tends to be to leave people alone. (And/or watching from a safe distance.) I do hate to pester -- and I get terribly anxious around strangers, leaving me oft more or less unable to pester in any coherent fashion. While waiting in line for autographs from the Big Finish folks (Nick Briggs, India Fisher, and Jason Haigh-Ellery) I was quite literally shaking, both before and after. Seriously, there's something wrong with me for interacting with other human beings to cause such distress. All of the above were quite perfectly lovely, though, and by the end of the weekend I'd managed to exchange at least some coherent words to all of them (and more). India, especially, was infectiously enthusiastic over the concept of simply having fans and wanted her picture taken with us. (Two of our group were Charley cosplayers, after all.)
Quite surreal, really.
And it only grew more so. Later in the lobby we spotted Paul McGann coming in and... well... mainly stood in shock and tried to do something other than stare. Probably failed miserably. Spent the rest of the evening stalking out the lobby for additional celebrity sightings to good results. At one point, a group came in and I asked Sparrow whether one of them was Rob Shearman. She didn't know and I wasn't sure -- so she went up to ask him. (I told her not to... I mean, really, I can see how being pestered by vapid fans could get old very quickly... but, perhaps for the best, she did not listen to me at all.) We spent the rest of the evening (towards 4am or later) hanging out in the lobby chatting with Rob, who is as clever a man as anything he's written would lead you to believe. We talked about a number of things of which I'm sure I only remember the smallest portion of -- though I do recall being threatened with physical harm for liking Timelash (it was probably a joke), a disturbing conversation about seals, and some entertaining mockery of a drunk that kept trying to integrate himself into the conversation. At some point Tony Lee came by and asked the group that had surrounded Rob which of several fictional teddy bears he reminded us of -- and though at first the question struck me as strange, by the end of the weekend I have quite come around on the matter. The man is absolutely a teddy bear, complete with that sad, lost sort of expression only an abandoned teddy bear can make.
The next day I joined everyone in the Masquerade (yes, I had a costume, which I don't want to talk about because I looked terribly silly and ANYONE WHO SAYS OTHERWISE IS GOING TO GET THEIR COMMENTS DELETED BECAUSE THIS IS MY JOURNAL AND I'LL DO WHAT I WANT) which was a panicky, nerve-wracking experience during which I spent a great deal of time feeling like I might throw up. The whole point of the Masquerade is for people to look at you. Lots of people. The only thing I can think of that seems more terrifying is if they also expected you to speak to them. At any rate, I sort of panicked on stage and more or less fled in terror. At least if I'd have fainted or something I would have been in character. Damn.
It was some time after this that I started feeling really terribly panicked, just around people. I can't even quite remember what sat it off. I think I was in the lobby waiting for someone, and they came down and went without a word and I started feeling rather dreadfully out of touch. I was surrounded by people who seemed to be enjoying themselves, having a brilliant time, talking and laughing. I wasn't enjoying myself, though, and their little groups seemed self-contained and not open to interlopers. It's odd how very, very alone one can feel when surrounded by people, even when some people are those you think of as friends. I went out for a long walk around the hotel. It was cold and I stayed out until it had good chance to properly seep in before I came back indoors and found an empty corridor to sit in, knees curled up to my chest, and shivered and cried. I don't know that it helped, but I don't know that it didn't help, either. Eventually I skulked back to the lobby where I found Sparrow and several others chatting with Tony Lee -- in a small enough group to seem fairly non-threatening. I joined their group and this probably, in the long run, was more helpful than going out under-dressed in the winter.
The next morning was brunch, where I was lucky enough to snag the last seat at the table with Paul McGann. Sparrow and I were in this together up until this point, but she insisted I take the seat -- I was equal parts excitement and terror over this prospect, and my protests that I would be unlikely to survive the event without moral support were genuine. But no, there I was, abandoned to a table of strangers and Paul McGann, which either makes Sparrow the best friend ever or the worst friend ever. I spent my time mostly not speaking and trying very hard not to stare rudely -- but I can't deny that it was a pleasant experience that I will not belittle by trying to cram into the space of inadequate words. (Though, honestly, close proximity to Paul McGann did not shake me up nearly as much as close proximity to Colin Baker. I am not sure what that says about me.) The rest of the day is a bit of a blur -- all I have is scattered photographic evidence suggesting I was still there.
In the evening we were all hanging out at the bar and were joined by Nick Briggs, Tony Lee, and Rob Shearman. It remains a terribly odd feeling to think that these people -- whom I've admired from a distance -- would approach us to just hang out and chat. But a great number of lulz were had by all. By this point at the weekend I had spent quite a lot of time around quite a lot of people, and it was really, really starting to get to me. Around the time things turned the corner from happy fun lulz to drunken hijinx I fled again, heading outside even less appropriately dressed for the weather than before. There's something bracing about the cold that brings one back to oneself. Or maybe that's just philosophical bullshit -- I'm honestly not sure just now. Came back in, curled up in bed, and slept a bit. Not sure if this helped, much, either, because by the time I ventured back out in public I still wasn't far off from some sort of silly breakdown -- but it seemed, perhaps, a slight improvement from sitting on my own in my room and doing the same. In the end, a mostly sleepless night spent mostly sitting with folks in the lobby. ("Folks" including Tony Lee in his pajamas -- which is to say, next year, lobby slumber party?)
The next day was packing and leaving -- and hanging about in the lobby with everyone else who'd been kicked out of hotel rooms but were waiting for planes to leave. We dubbed it 'LobbyCon09' and it was just about the most fun you might have in a hotel lobby. Nick approached me when I was waiting in line to check out to say goodbye, and got hugs from Tony and Rob. (And, heck, this doesn't count Jason Haigh-Ellery's goodbye kiss on the cheek the day before.) It's really heartwarming and lovely to be remembered.
All in all, the convention had some outrageous good points, some terribly stressful points, and the full gamut of everything in between. My brain is far too addled (still!) to fully process the event and assign it any sort of overall rating.... tough I do wish it weren't over. At least I think I wish it weren't over. It's kind of hard to say.
On one hand, it was an exquisitely good time. I met a bunch of fantastic people that I have long since admired from afar and exchanged words with several of them, including: India Fisher (omg Charley), Rob Shearman (writer of only the most disturbing audios), Tony Lee (writer of -- sorry everyone else -- the best Doctor Who comics I've ever read), Nick Briggs (the voice of the Daleks, of course, but also a brilliant writer, director, and producer), Gary Russell (whose writing credits include Zagreus amongst many other things), Jason Haigh-Ellery (who founded Big Finish for which he is my hero), Daphne Ashbrook (who wins major geek points for wearing a Four scarf all weekend), and Paul McGann (who needs no introduction). The highlight of the event was definitely the Big Finish folks, who were all friendly and happy to chat -- and at times even approached us when we didn't approach them.
I am, personally, the shy and quiet sort, and my thinking tends to be to leave people alone. (And/or watching from a safe distance.) I do hate to pester -- and I get terribly anxious around strangers, leaving me oft more or less unable to pester in any coherent fashion. While waiting in line for autographs from the Big Finish folks (Nick Briggs, India Fisher, and Jason Haigh-Ellery) I was quite literally shaking, both before and after. Seriously, there's something wrong with me for interacting with other human beings to cause such distress. All of the above were quite perfectly lovely, though, and by the end of the weekend I'd managed to exchange at least some coherent words to all of them (and more). India, especially, was infectiously enthusiastic over the concept of simply having fans and wanted her picture taken with us. (Two of our group were Charley cosplayers, after all.)
Quite surreal, really.
And it only grew more so. Later in the lobby we spotted Paul McGann coming in and... well... mainly stood in shock and tried to do something other than stare. Probably failed miserably. Spent the rest of the evening stalking out the lobby for additional celebrity sightings to good results. At one point, a group came in and I asked Sparrow whether one of them was Rob Shearman. She didn't know and I wasn't sure -- so she went up to ask him. (I told her not to... I mean, really, I can see how being pestered by vapid fans could get old very quickly... but, perhaps for the best, she did not listen to me at all.) We spent the rest of the evening (towards 4am or later) hanging out in the lobby chatting with Rob, who is as clever a man as anything he's written would lead you to believe. We talked about a number of things of which I'm sure I only remember the smallest portion of -- though I do recall being threatened with physical harm for liking Timelash (it was probably a joke), a disturbing conversation about seals, and some entertaining mockery of a drunk that kept trying to integrate himself into the conversation. At some point Tony Lee came by and asked the group that had surrounded Rob which of several fictional teddy bears he reminded us of -- and though at first the question struck me as strange, by the end of the weekend I have quite come around on the matter. The man is absolutely a teddy bear, complete with that sad, lost sort of expression only an abandoned teddy bear can make.
The next day I joined everyone in the Masquerade (yes, I had a costume, which I don't want to talk about because I looked terribly silly and ANYONE WHO SAYS OTHERWISE IS GOING TO GET THEIR COMMENTS DELETED BECAUSE THIS IS MY JOURNAL AND I'LL DO WHAT I WANT) which was a panicky, nerve-wracking experience during which I spent a great deal of time feeling like I might throw up. The whole point of the Masquerade is for people to look at you. Lots of people. The only thing I can think of that seems more terrifying is if they also expected you to speak to them. At any rate, I sort of panicked on stage and more or less fled in terror. At least if I'd have fainted or something I would have been in character. Damn.
It was some time after this that I started feeling really terribly panicked, just around people. I can't even quite remember what sat it off. I think I was in the lobby waiting for someone, and they came down and went without a word and I started feeling rather dreadfully out of touch. I was surrounded by people who seemed to be enjoying themselves, having a brilliant time, talking and laughing. I wasn't enjoying myself, though, and their little groups seemed self-contained and not open to interlopers. It's odd how very, very alone one can feel when surrounded by people, even when some people are those you think of as friends. I went out for a long walk around the hotel. It was cold and I stayed out until it had good chance to properly seep in before I came back indoors and found an empty corridor to sit in, knees curled up to my chest, and shivered and cried. I don't know that it helped, but I don't know that it didn't help, either. Eventually I skulked back to the lobby where I found Sparrow and several others chatting with Tony Lee -- in a small enough group to seem fairly non-threatening. I joined their group and this probably, in the long run, was more helpful than going out under-dressed in the winter.
The next morning was brunch, where I was lucky enough to snag the last seat at the table with Paul McGann. Sparrow and I were in this together up until this point, but she insisted I take the seat -- I was equal parts excitement and terror over this prospect, and my protests that I would be unlikely to survive the event without moral support were genuine. But no, there I was, abandoned to a table of strangers and Paul McGann, which either makes Sparrow the best friend ever or the worst friend ever. I spent my time mostly not speaking and trying very hard not to stare rudely -- but I can't deny that it was a pleasant experience that I will not belittle by trying to cram into the space of inadequate words. (Though, honestly, close proximity to Paul McGann did not shake me up nearly as much as close proximity to Colin Baker. I am not sure what that says about me.) The rest of the day is a bit of a blur -- all I have is scattered photographic evidence suggesting I was still there.
In the evening we were all hanging out at the bar and were joined by Nick Briggs, Tony Lee, and Rob Shearman. It remains a terribly odd feeling to think that these people -- whom I've admired from a distance -- would approach us to just hang out and chat. But a great number of lulz were had by all. By this point at the weekend I had spent quite a lot of time around quite a lot of people, and it was really, really starting to get to me. Around the time things turned the corner from happy fun lulz to drunken hijinx I fled again, heading outside even less appropriately dressed for the weather than before. There's something bracing about the cold that brings one back to oneself. Or maybe that's just philosophical bullshit -- I'm honestly not sure just now. Came back in, curled up in bed, and slept a bit. Not sure if this helped, much, either, because by the time I ventured back out in public I still wasn't far off from some sort of silly breakdown -- but it seemed, perhaps, a slight improvement from sitting on my own in my room and doing the same. In the end, a mostly sleepless night spent mostly sitting with folks in the lobby. ("Folks" including Tony Lee in his pajamas -- which is to say, next year, lobby slumber party?)
The next day was packing and leaving -- and hanging about in the lobby with everyone else who'd been kicked out of hotel rooms but were waiting for planes to leave. We dubbed it 'LobbyCon09' and it was just about the most fun you might have in a hotel lobby. Nick approached me when I was waiting in line to check out to say goodbye, and got hugs from Tony and Rob. (And, heck, this doesn't count Jason Haigh-Ellery's goodbye kiss on the cheek the day before.) It's really heartwarming and lovely to be remembered.
All in all, the convention had some outrageous good points, some terribly stressful points, and the full gamut of everything in between. My brain is far too addled (still!) to fully process the event and assign it any sort of overall rating.... tough I do wish it weren't over. At least I think I wish it weren't over. It's kind of hard to say.