Monday Photo Shoot Results: Valentine Views

Here, after a slight delay while I drove and slept, worked and slept, worked and slept some more, are the results of last week's Monday Photo Shoot:

Carly has a valentine rose.

Martha showed us how to make a sweet valentine treat.

Vicki presents us with a Valentine's Day cookie.

Kiva records the gifts of newlyweds in love - flowers and a Disney cell.

Laura offers us a Dunkin' Donuts valentine donut.

Thanks, folks! Be sure to check out the entry below this one for the new Monday Photo Shoot: Relax!

Karen

Monday Photo Shoot: Relax!

The roundup of Monday Photo Shoot entries from last week will have to wait until Monday evening. Meanwhile, here's the new one, which I'll make pretty later.*

New Monday Photo Shoot #8: Show us something relaxing.

You know the drill: take your picture, post it to your blog or journal, and leave a link in comments. Thanks!

Karen

*Later is here, and the sunset photo is the best recent shot I have for the topic for now. I'll try to improve on it by the end of the week!

Home again, jiggity jog

I had a great last day at Gallifrey One, followed by an eight hour drive home. My body is still vibrating, and I'm due at work in 3 hrs 20, after turning in the rental. I'll probably ask for a couple hours off at lunch for a nap. Good night!

Introvert's Lament

Some of the writerly guests at Gallifrey One this year

There's a line in the Christmas 2007 Doctor Who special, "Voyage of the Damned," in which the Doctor offers the opinion that taking a cruise "on your own" doesn't "quite work." As someone whose only cruise was a three day one taken with my mom, I think that's probably about right in most cases. In fact, I would extend the observation to science fiction and sf media conventions, with the same basic exception as in the cruise example.

You see, in both cases it depends on the kind of person who is attending the group activity alone. I imagine that if you're a fearless extrovert, adept at making friends everywhere you go, solo cons and cruises are no problem. I've seen people this weekend (well, a few of them) who can walk up to almost anyone and strike up a successful conversation. Such people, I'm reasonably certain, will be fine in situations like this.

And I have no doubt that people make friends at these things; I've done it myself a number of times over the years. By and large, though, nearly everyone at this convention is either here with someone else or a celebrity with a handler, friends and hangers-on. I'm here alone, and that makes it harder. I've had a good time, met a lot of nice people, taken pictures, looked at merchandise, gained insights and generally been entertained - but it would have all been much better with one or more close friends at my side. In the early days of Gallifrey One, I used to drive out here with Tracy and Teresa, Dimitra and sometimes Sherlock. Now one is dead, two live far away and one has fallen on hard times. And I miss them, darn it, the younger, healthier, Tucson-based versions of them. Sherlock lives in Texas, but at least she used to visit Tucson occasionally when the twins were here.

Still, despite my shyness in person, I haven't been completely isolated socially. I've asked questions in panel discussions, chatted with some of the writers, had a long conversation with someone's mother about travel and her plush Mickey Mouse collection (no, really!), and chatted with other fans about Doctor Who "shipping" (factions in favor of one romantic pairing or another, coupled with antipathy toward rival characters), the casting of Hitchhiker's Guide characters in different media, and hatred of the character Dawn in Buffy fandom. But today, when I wasn't in an overflow crowd at a live DVD commentary, a Sylvester McCoy interview or some other event, I've been at loose ends, wandering around looking for something to connect with. In the hall, people hung around chatting with friends. In the con suite, people ate bologna and watched a show about people who survived serious accidents. In the lobby, just outside the hotel bar, groupings of chairs and tables held an ever-changing assortment of celebrities and fans, with the celebrities chatting to each other as fans looked on. Sometimes fans were part of the main conversation, but mostly only if they were personal acquaintances one of more of the celebrities present. These conversations were almost inevitably punctuated by people going to the bar and bringing back another round.

If you're at a convention with a friend or family member, you're automatically not pathetic (by fandom standards) or lonely or bored. Even if the programming of the moment consists of a screening of That Awful Show, a panel discussion with the Second Actor From the Left, an autograph session with nonfiction writers you've never heard of and a retrospective slideshow on the history of athletic shoes in science fiction, you have someone to talk to about something more interesting, perhaps with three to five other fans joining in along the way. But when you're there alone, it's trickier. Does that person you know casually from past conventions want you hanging around all the time, just because you're on a first name basis? Probably not. Is it permissible to hang around at the fringes of the crowd surrounding your favorite actor? In some cases, the answer is yes, but if you stay at the fringes you probably won't hear much of the conversation, much less contribute to it. And if you hang around one celebrity all weekend I imagine that you'll seem a little creepy.

I'm on a first name basis with one person from Phoenix and two from L.A., and I've met a number of the celebrities several times over the years. I've interviewed Sylvester McCoy and Sophie Aldred, who starred in the show in the last 1980s; but it was over a decade ago and they're exceedingly unlikely to remember. A few of the writers remember that I wrote those trading cards in the mid-1990s, and one more remembers the comment I left on his blog about the Lennon-McCartney dynamic. But none of that gives me a license to hang out with them, beyond the non-intrusive, limited contact that is the norm here.

And yet...

Other fans can and do have conversations, with the celebrities and with each other, beyond what I've managed so far. Yes, they have their support groups of friends and family members and the excuse of past acquaintance; some of them have been coming to this thing nearly every year since 1990, and even many of the celebs have been here three times or more. Even so, in trying to strike a balance between too intrusive and too unobtrusive, I'm pretty sure I'm well into the latter category. I've done well in some one-to-one situations, but overall I think I rate a D+ for social interaction this weekend.

I'll have to see what I can do tomorrow to raise that grade.

Karen

Late Night at the Harriott

Hey, John,

You know how, before I left Tucson on this trip, you asked me repeatedly not to do anything stupid? Well, I've mostly managed that so far. The one exception you sort-of know about, and it's too interesting an anecdote not to share it with the world (or, at least, the tiny portion thereof that reads this blog). Don't worry: nothing actually bad happened. The car is fine, I am fine, and our finances are fine. So relax. This is just one of those Karen-tells-of-an-amusing-screwup stories, the kind that aggravate you only briefly.

As I admitted to you this morning, I neglected to print out the hotel confirmation email and bring it with me. I figured it would be easy to find the LAX Hilton. After all, LAX is easy to find, and I've been to the nearby Hilton before. Also I forgot.

So after a mostly-uneventful drive in (details of which will be revealed shortly), I found my way onto Century Blvd, drove past the Hilton, turned right and make my way into their rather alarming parking garage. I say this because it was steep and narrow and underground, with lots of hairpin turns marked out with metal ropes. I drove down to the fourth level near row B and parked as instructed on the signs. Made it!

I locked the car and took the elevator up to registration. The couple in front of me told the couple in front of them that they were from England, and I nodded knowingly, not that anyone noticed. Nor was I correct in my "knowing." I should have had an inkling when they said they were checking out, not checking in as I would have expected on the Friday of a Doctor Who convention.

When it was my turn, the hotel desk clerk could not find my registration. I could not understand why until she indicated that she was unfamiliar with this "Gallifrey" of which I spoke.

That's when I finally deduced the Awful Truth. The convention wasn't at the LAX Hilton. And I was so sure that it was! For one thing, there was a whole discussion online about the nearby Carl's Jr, and other places with off-airport addresses that were said to be close by. It was clearly an LAX hotel, then. But which one?

Too embarrassed to call and ask you to look it up, I did something reasonably clever instead. I went to the Carl's Jr., got lunch, and simply asked the first really obvious Doctor Who fans I saw which hotel the con was in. Two minutes later I knew it was at the LAX Marriott, in between the Hilton and that same Carl's Jr., on the same block. (Incidentally, nearly everyone in the place was a con-goer.) Somehow I read the word "Marriott" repeatedly, and my brain read it back to me as "Hilton." This was because this convention and possibly one of the Quantum Leap cons had been held at two airport Hiltons in the area, this one and the Burbank one. My brain's expectations led me astray. And by the way, I can name at least two occasions on which you, too, acted on what you expected to hear or see instead of what was actually there.

One of the traditional blurry con photos

Once I got to the right hotel, everything went great. The parking is on the surface and has a discounted convention rate. The hotel had my reservation, and the extra pillows (but not the free fridge, 'cause they're out of them). I've seen Sylvester McCoy, Sophie Aldred and our acquaintance Gary Russell on stage together, spoken briefly with my two favorite living Doctor Who screenwriters and two additional Who novelists, had dinner with three of the Phoenix fans, taken some traditionally distant and blurry con pictures, chatted about fudged accounting practices with an airline employee and told him my airplane joke, and successfully got online after the front desk said the network was down for the night. Ha! I win!


Oh, and I photographed a few rather clever entries from the second row at the Masque of Mandragora costume contest. The one above, in which Lady Cassandra's moisturizing "lovely boys" discover a marketing opportunity, was named Best in Show. Taking these pictures reminded me strongly of the great non-digital photos you took of fan costumes at that ST con in Baltimore (or was it the St. Louis one?) 22 years ago. I still have a mental image (and we still have the physical photo) of your dynamic shot of Batman, Catwoman and Robin.

As for the trip itself: the drive over started at 10:45 PM or so. The rented car has satellite radio, and I quickly found a Jack Benny marathon hosted by his daughter and stayed on that station all night. Listening to that made it much easier to cope when I was at a dead standstill for about 15 minutes at 1 AM in Phoenix due to a traffic accident up ahead, and when at least two I-10 rest areas in California were closed and I had to drive on. I sort of watched for Cabezon, but dinosaurs are hard to spot in the dark, and there are now several exits with that word in them.

Waking to windmills

Shortly after passing the second of these and thinking I'd missed the exit I wanted, I finally found an open rest area and stopped. It was 5 AM. I reclined the seat and slept until 11 AM. When I awoke, I saw I was parked almost adjacent to one of the hills full of windmills that we always see on the Northern Route. Once I got moving, I passed mountains with snow on them, which reminded my of your warning about snow on the Southern Route.

Snow near the Cabezon T. Rex

And then...and then...there was Cabezon after all! I parked by the dinosaurs and had breakfast at the Wheel Inn. Hooray! I can't quite decide whether I first visited the place with you in 1986, or with my mom in 1978 or so.

The really icky part of the drive was from there to LAX. Even at noon and early afternoon, the freeways were packed. Locals later told me it's always like this on Friday, and more so on a holiday weekend. D'oh! Can't be helped, though.

So now it's late night at the Hilt--I mean Marriott, and I think I'm finally ready to sleep. If the internet connection works tomorrow night, I'll be blogging as usual. Meanwhile, Johnny-me-love, I hope you'll forgive me for the hotel name gaffe. If it helps, I haven't bought anything in the dealer's room yet except a T-shirt. That will change, but no, I won't be spending a lot. Good night!

Karen

Weekend Assignment #203: Road Trip!

My suitcase is packed, more or less, and mere minutes from now I'll be driving to Los Angeles for the weekend. I'm already running a little behind, because after I picked up my rental car I had to go back to work to rush out a report due tomorrow morning. You know what happens if you stay too late in my building? Apparently you get locked in. There was a way out, but it required at least a mile's walk to get back to the rental car, because of fences and washes and things.

One of the dinosaurs of Cabezon, California

Still, the time has come: I'm getting the heck out of Tucson, ba kep och ma vere*, driving away in a nice new car with satellite radio. Which brings me to the new Weekend Assignment question:

Weekend Assignment #203: If you had the time, money, housesittter, etc. to pack up right now and drive somewhere out of town for a few days, where would you go, if anywhere? Note I said driving, so wherever you pick should be in driving distance.

Extra Credit: last time you got out of town for non-business reasons, what was your mode of transportation?

A Dalek and me at Gallifrey One, 2004.

Obviously my destination for this particular weekend is all set: I'm going to the Gallifrey One convention in Los Angeles, CA, there to consort with Daleks and Time Lords and other aliens - or, to be more accurate, people who have either written about such characters or played them on tv. In the first years of this convention my former writing partner and I used to interview such people, first for TARDIS Time Lore and then for Starlog, but this time I'm "a civilian," as John put it. I sure would love to interview Steven Moffat and Paul Cornell, though. They're two of my three favorite Doctor Who writers of all time, the third being Douglas Adams. Yes, that Douglas Adams.

But there are lots of other places in easy reach by car, and I don't get out of town nearly often enough. I'd love to go down to Bisbee, Arizona with John for the weekend. We'd stay one night at the historic Copper Queen hotel, another at a funky trailer park thing with a midcentury diner and themed coaches to stay in. We'd probably shoot for the Tiki-themed one. We could make a day trip from there to Tombstone, to see whether Morgan Earp still falls over with an audible clack at the Historama. And I say that with love, because Tombstone is a great little place.

I'm also dying to see Roswell, NM, not because I believe anything much happened there but because of all the kitch that's grown up because of what people think happened. Or to the Grand Canyon, to try out that new walkway. ride a mule and finally visit the North Rim (not this time of year, though).

Or we could just go to Disneyland for the 11th time or thereablouts. That works, too.

And yes, every recent trip I've made has been by car: to Sedona and Los Alamos (2006), to Disneyland (2005, twice), to the Nebula Awards Weekend in Tempe (2006), to meet my friend Sarah IRL in Scottsdale (also 2006), and to meet John Scalzi, also in Scottsdale (2007). But I wouldn't be opposed to a trip by train or airplane, given enough time and money.

Your turn: here's $500 and a prepaid car rental. Where are you going? Write up the answer in your blog or journal, and leave a link in the comments to this entry. I'll be back in a week (assuming the Daleks don't get me) with a roundup of your answers.

Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time to pack up my laptop and hit the road!

Karen

*Loosely translates to "Get me the heck out of here!" From a scene I wrote over 30 years ago.

Weekend Assignment Results: Love Stories

Gates Pass sunset, March 2005

Light turnout this week for Weekend Assignment #202: Love Story. Apparently people were either not enamored of love stotries, or too busy living out their own. Still, we have some good ones:

Julie: "One day she popped in for her Star Trek game, and there he was. The nerve! It was her time to zap Klingons!"

Saqib: "A love story that I found inspiring would be the tale of Laila El-Haddad. Her story is a real life drama set in the hostile city of Gaza."

Mike: "When I saw her actually enjoying some heavy metal music at a party one time, that was it. I was hooked."

Florinda: "Her response: "Call me tomorrow when you're sober and ask me again." He did, she accepted, and their own wedding took place the following June."

Karen: "After I posted the Weekend Assignment topic Thursday night, I had a related idea to do a love story quiz." Check the comments thread for the answers; Sarah has them all.

Thanks, folks! I hope you've all had a great Velentine's Day, with or without the lovey-dovey stuff. New Weekend Assignment to be posted momentarily.