You can't take us anywhere
Corflu is this weekend, and here in Portland. A hundred people or so, from at least three countries, gathered to swap/sell/reminisce/discuss old-school science fiction fanzines. And drink beer.
The hotel, whatever its current corporate branding, is one I've been attending cons at since my second ever, in 1984: Orycon, Potlatch, Smofcon, now Corflu, all have taken over its awkward suite of top-floor meeting rooms.
This morning we picked up Pat Virzi and Geri Sullivan, who wanted very much to breakfast at the original Original Pancake House. Twist my arm!
We ordered three things between the four of us (plus bacon). When the food arrived, we quartered each selection and busily passed one empty and three full plates around until each contained bacon-cheddar omelette; pecan pancakes; and apple pancake (plus bacon).
Collating our breakfast, in other words.
The hotel, whatever its current corporate branding, is one I've been attending cons at since my second ever, in 1984: Orycon, Potlatch, Smofcon, now Corflu, all have taken over its awkward suite of top-floor meeting rooms.
This morning we picked up Pat Virzi and Geri Sullivan, who wanted very much to breakfast at the original Original Pancake House. Twist my arm!
We ordered three things between the four of us (plus bacon). When the food arrived, we quartered each selection and busily passed one empty and three full plates around until each contained bacon-cheddar omelette; pecan pancakes; and apple pancake (plus bacon).
Collating our breakfast, in other words.