Monday, July 12
The weekend got et up again, this time by a camping trip to Craigleith Provencial Park. It was enjoyable and educational - not so much the trip itself as the journey, which was the first time I had really left the Waterloo-Toronto corner of Canada. It didn't take long, either; less than half an hour driving and I was suddenly in the midst of beautiful farmland, small roads, and little Amish guys driving horse-and-buggies.
Needless to say, we got lost, and spent several hours wandering around on aforesaid small roads with a worthless map destroying gender stereotypes (I refuse to ask for directions; Dan always does.) And the roads went on forever, too; sometimes flat, sometimes up and down, but almost always straight and always, always really long, absolute MMBC (Miles and Miles of Bloody Canada.) I spent a lot of time straining to read roadsigns so I could figure out where the hell I was, while Dan alternately gave directions and sang "Canada is Really Big" at me.
Eventually we found the place and had the joyous experience of setting up a tent in the dark, but hey, it wasn't too bad. The people we were camping with turned out to be parts of the college drama club, aka FASS, which I did not know beforehand. As far as I was concerned I was just playing "Grab Bag O'Dan's Friends" again, but as it turned out he didn't know most of them either, which was a change. They were fun people to camp with, full of stories and really good with the camp food.
On Saturday we went hiking; on Sunday we went to the Bluesfest at Wasaga Beach, a half-hour drive away, which was a blast. The beach itself was gorgeous, and the performers were really good; I got to see Rory Block, who was fabulous. The main stage event, though, the Tragically Hip, were a bit of a disappointment. For one thing they were an hour and a bit late, which meant that Dan and I, who had to be back in Waterloo by midnight for his night shift, couldn't have stayed for the whole anyway. For another the main stage was rigged so that you could clearly hear the music a mile off. Up close the effect was devistating. I had earplugs, but still, feeling my breastbone vibrate everytime someone hit the bass string was disturbing. The crowd, after over an hour's wait, was rambunctious and tended to trample; and the band itself was nothing special, as far as I was concerned. The main singer seemed to be on some kind of ego trip, I couldn't hear most of the lyrics, and the music lacked energy. We left a few songs into the set, deciding that they weren't worth being late getting home.
The trip back was less eventful. Dan, after rigorous map consultation, put me on a road and told me to go straight until *mumbled town which I promptly forgot the name of*, a really long way, at least 40 minutes. Then he went to sleep. An hour later, finally freaked by the endless road and the endless farms and the endless little towns that weren't on the map, I woke him up, but it turned out that we were more or less on the right road still, and with only a few minor detours in the vicinity of Guelph we made it home to Waterloo. I fell into bed exhausted; Dan, poor sod, went pedalling off to work on his bike. I've never been more happy to be jobless.
Needless to say, we got lost, and spent several hours wandering around on aforesaid small roads with a worthless map destroying gender stereotypes (I refuse to ask for directions; Dan always does.) And the roads went on forever, too; sometimes flat, sometimes up and down, but almost always straight and always, always really long, absolute MMBC (Miles and Miles of Bloody Canada.) I spent a lot of time straining to read roadsigns so I could figure out where the hell I was, while Dan alternately gave directions and sang "Canada is Really Big" at me.
Eventually we found the place and had the joyous experience of setting up a tent in the dark, but hey, it wasn't too bad. The people we were camping with turned out to be parts of the college drama club, aka FASS, which I did not know beforehand. As far as I was concerned I was just playing "Grab Bag O'Dan's Friends" again, but as it turned out he didn't know most of them either, which was a change. They were fun people to camp with, full of stories and really good with the camp food.
On Saturday we went hiking; on Sunday we went to the Bluesfest at Wasaga Beach, a half-hour drive away, which was a blast. The beach itself was gorgeous, and the performers were really good; I got to see Rory Block, who was fabulous. The main stage event, though, the Tragically Hip, were a bit of a disappointment. For one thing they were an hour and a bit late, which meant that Dan and I, who had to be back in Waterloo by midnight for his night shift, couldn't have stayed for the whole anyway. For another the main stage was rigged so that you could clearly hear the music a mile off. Up close the effect was devistating. I had earplugs, but still, feeling my breastbone vibrate everytime someone hit the bass string was disturbing. The crowd, after over an hour's wait, was rambunctious and tended to trample; and the band itself was nothing special, as far as I was concerned. The main singer seemed to be on some kind of ego trip, I couldn't hear most of the lyrics, and the music lacked energy. We left a few songs into the set, deciding that they weren't worth being late getting home.
The trip back was less eventful. Dan, after rigorous map consultation, put me on a road and told me to go straight until *mumbled town which I promptly forgot the name of*, a really long way, at least 40 minutes. Then he went to sleep. An hour later, finally freaked by the endless road and the endless farms and the endless little towns that weren't on the map, I woke him up, but it turned out that we were more or less on the right road still, and with only a few minor detours in the vicinity of Guelph we made it home to Waterloo. I fell into bed exhausted; Dan, poor sod, went pedalling off to work on his bike. I've never been more happy to be jobless.
Tuesday, July 06
I spent the past weekend at Toronto Trek 18. It was my second time really attending a sci-fi convention, and my first time being involved in one - I was volunteering and a panelist, so I was working before the con started and helping break down after the closing ceremonies. It was a blast, and I had almost no spare time, which meant that I barely visited the dealer's room and spent far, far less money than I've ever spent at a con. That it was a media con and had almost no books in the dealer's room probably helped.
Highlights:
Volunteering. This was great fun, although not in the sense of "wow, what a cool job." The first day I was helping out by the handicapped lift, which might have been interesting, except that as a volunteer I wasn't allowed to know the code that opened the lift. The hotel said that only very specific convention staff could know that code. I guess they thought we were going to take the lift for joyrides, which was amusing, considering that it was the slowest friggin' lift in the history of mankind (No. Really. I could have carried people up the stairs faster.) So my job was to sit there and tell anyone who showed up while the authorized staff were sloooowly riding the lift up that they would be right back. I did this for four hours. Fun.
The next day I spent an hour working the autograph line. My job was to stand at what appeared to be the end of the line and explain to people that this was not, in fact, the end of the line. The end of the line was down there.
After that I worked Ten-Forward, the lounge area, where my job was giving out free drinks to the other volunteers and panelists. More specifically, I sat behind a table and opened their drinks for them and removed the little metal tabs, because the hotel had decided, in its intriguing hotel way, that an unopened drink was being sold, which they couldn't allow (only the hotel proper being allowed to exhort money from people), but an open drink was a gift.
Hey. I don't have to understand. I just open the damned drinks.
On Sunday I helped with the breakdown, which was probably the least boring job I got, and learned all kinds of interesting ways to coil cable and fold curtains.
But luckily the real enjoyment of volunteering wasn't the work, but the other volunteers, who were, with rare exceptions, funny, interesting, intelligent, and enjoyable people. I had a lot of fun.
Panels. I was on three, none of which I had the knowledge or authority to be on. Nevertheless I had a great time and Dan insists that I didn't make an idiot of myself. I came away from each with a lot to think about. The best was probably the artificial intellgence panel, which stayed mostly on topic, had an unusally cooperative audience, and had fantastic panelists. I had fun, and even got a real laugh out of the audience at one point ("Do we really want sentience in slaves? No. It's inconvenient.")
People. I am not even going to attempt to list the people I met over the weekend: it would take too damned long, and my ever-unstable memory has already lost half their names. Suffice to say that between volunteering, panels, being dragged around to meet Dan's friends (who, at a conservative estimate, make up half the friggin' universe), parties, more panels, more volunteering, random people who I collided with in the hallways, roomates, more parties, and general con-ness, I met a lot of people, all of whom were great fun. By Sunday I was too sleep-deprived to even be surprised when I ended up in a hot tub with a bunch of them. And they all seemed to like me back, which was... enjoyably novel.
That barely even begins to cover the con, much less the other stuff that's been happening, but hey, I had to start catching up somewhere. Further postage will occur. I promise. (Yes, George, you can stop poking me now....)
Highlights:
Volunteering. This was great fun, although not in the sense of "wow, what a cool job." The first day I was helping out by the handicapped lift, which might have been interesting, except that as a volunteer I wasn't allowed to know the code that opened the lift. The hotel said that only very specific convention staff could know that code. I guess they thought we were going to take the lift for joyrides, which was amusing, considering that it was the slowest friggin' lift in the history of mankind (No. Really. I could have carried people up the stairs faster.) So my job was to sit there and tell anyone who showed up while the authorized staff were sloooowly riding the lift up that they would be right back. I did this for four hours. Fun.
The next day I spent an hour working the autograph line. My job was to stand at what appeared to be the end of the line and explain to people that this was not, in fact, the end of the line. The end of the line was down there.
After that I worked Ten-Forward, the lounge area, where my job was giving out free drinks to the other volunteers and panelists. More specifically, I sat behind a table and opened their drinks for them and removed the little metal tabs, because the hotel had decided, in its intriguing hotel way, that an unopened drink was being sold, which they couldn't allow (only the hotel proper being allowed to exhort money from people), but an open drink was a gift.
Hey. I don't have to understand. I just open the damned drinks.
On Sunday I helped with the breakdown, which was probably the least boring job I got, and learned all kinds of interesting ways to coil cable and fold curtains.
But luckily the real enjoyment of volunteering wasn't the work, but the other volunteers, who were, with rare exceptions, funny, interesting, intelligent, and enjoyable people. I had a lot of fun.
Panels. I was on three, none of which I had the knowledge or authority to be on. Nevertheless I had a great time and Dan insists that I didn't make an idiot of myself. I came away from each with a lot to think about. The best was probably the artificial intellgence panel, which stayed mostly on topic, had an unusally cooperative audience, and had fantastic panelists. I had fun, and even got a real laugh out of the audience at one point ("Do we really want sentience in slaves? No. It's inconvenient.")
People. I am not even going to attempt to list the people I met over the weekend: it would take too damned long, and my ever-unstable memory has already lost half their names. Suffice to say that between volunteering, panels, being dragged around to meet Dan's friends (who, at a conservative estimate, make up half the friggin' universe), parties, more panels, more volunteering, random people who I collided with in the hallways, roomates, more parties, and general con-ness, I met a lot of people, all of whom were great fun. By Sunday I was too sleep-deprived to even be surprised when I ended up in a hot tub with a bunch of them. And they all seemed to like me back, which was... enjoyably novel.
That barely even begins to cover the con, much less the other stuff that's been happening, but hey, I had to start catching up somewhere. Further postage will occur. I promise. (Yes, George, you can stop poking me now....)
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