roofae was to be at the con, and to share a room with several people, but the relative flights meant that the room reservers would not be able to get there before roofae did. So she needed a spot to at least drop off her gear for a few hours, and we (me/bunny_hugger/skylerbunny) were glad to offer it. And sure enough my phone was (a) on and (b) with me and (c) received the message, that roofae had arrived at some horribly early hour of the morning.
So I brought her up, and she --- I assume just lay still for a while, as I showered and other wise got ready for the day. We figured to put off getting breakfast as roofae is vegan and the hotel decidedly not, and I was waiting for bunny_hugger. Our best alternative for using the time seemed to be going through the registration line. It was a long registration line, slow-moving, and left me wondering if I had actually signed up as a sponsor since they had a much shorter line. I didn't think I had --- it seemed like a lot more for relatively few benefits that I'd use --- but in the twisting maze of retractable fabric belts it was easy to believe I might have. Also, we were stuck in line slightly ahead of some people who chatted, the whole time, about such subjects as how the Occupy Wall Street movement was foolish and the people in it should shut up whining and get jobs, which, ah, yeah. Also how they understood the true dynamics of fandom in the way useless drains on it like the con organizers didn't.
Anyway, afterward, we were hungry and got snacks from the convenience store, and bunny_hugger texted me that the train bringing her to Chicago was running late and I should eat without her. Better, though, roofae's roommates had arrived and she could move over to that room.
I went to one of the puppet track events --- it might seem like my default one, but I like them, so, where else should I go? --- which was about doing the hand motions for speech. To help improve the authenticity the panel organizers gave away a real tool such as Muppet Training Workshops use: a pair of ping-pong balls, with eyes painted on, strapped to a rubber band. You put them across your knuckles and, instant hand puppet where you can see what your fingers are doing as you maintain eye contact and do that sort of work. I had to run out of the last minutes of it, though, as bunny_hugger called, and I went to the lobby to find her, and hug her, a long, hard time.
She asked if I was going to keep the puppet eyes on my hand all weekend, because it was the sort of thing I'd do. I had been thinking about it, yes. She said it was creepy. I put the eyes away.
We didn't eat right away, though; she broke down and had a veggie burger on the train which was surprisingly better than she'd expected, and I'd had an extra round of snacking. We got through registration, too --- since it was after the Opening Ceremonies by a decent amount it was a tolerably short line --- and actually spent a while talking about our relationship. Also her brother's band and their new album.
We did very briefly get into artist's alley where BunnyHugger picked up a little pair of antlers. This she would wear with her ears, when not in fursuit, to give herself a jackalope makeover, to better fit the convention's ``Route 66'' theme.
For dinner we briefly examined the sports bar, which had one (1) kind of sushi which might be vegetarian, and then took a taxi out to a nearby Indian restaurant. The restaurant was divided by a long half-glass wall, and we were seated on the outer side of that, partitioned away from everybody else to start. This reminded me of the Chinese buffet restaurant where spaceroo and I worked a year at to finally get seated in the front half, back when he was at State University of New York/Albany. It was really, really good food, and we came out thinking that we had to tell everyone what they missed by not eating here. (The restaurant was named The Maharja in the con booklet, missing an ``a'' from a familiar Indian word; I supposed that the booklet was correct and so probably confused the cab driver in my efforts to pronounce the mutilated name.)
And BunnyHugger got back into fursuit for the dance, where I horrified her with my inability to connect recognition of the beat with any particular movement of my feet or other body pats. (I know it's there, it's just not in synch with my body's natural modes.) But I was doing marginally better as a fursuiter's handler this year, with her not really having to swat me for over- or under-managing. The only major point at which I failed to understand what she was pantomiming --- she doesn't speak in costume --- was at the designated charity booth where the animal rescue shelter had several rabbits on display. I should have gone with the standby, that a pantomime character making a fuss over something thinks it's interesting and neat and, as it involved small rabbits looking even more wide-eyed than usual at all the weird things going on, adorable.
A small thing I noticed as we were leaving the dance: one of the animal rescue people was holding up the white-and-black-spotted rabbit, who still looked as if it had no idea why it was getting so much attention from so many people who were so strange, and rocking its forepaws back and forth, to the beat. So the rescued rabbit could dance better than I could, even if it had more direct physical aid than did I.
Trivia: The second-stage thrust chamber in the rocket booster used for Vanguard's TV-3 launch had been test-fired for only fifty seconds, compared to the 200 seconds which would be required for a successful launch, but the accelerated post-Sputnik schedule permitted no further testing. Source: Project Vanguard: The NASA History, Constance McLaughlin Green, Milton Lomask.
Currently Reading: Fifty-Nine In '84: Old Hoss Radbourn, Barehanded Baseball, And The Greatest Season A Pitcher Ever Had, Edward Achorn.
PS: How Did Friday The 13th Get A Chance? Not the movies, the other kind.