There are some things about Worldcon that ought to be solved problems. Registration is one of them. Since ConFrancisco in ’93 ever Worldcon committee has been determined to avoid long lines. Except, apparently, Denver. The waiting time appears to be at least half an hour, probably longer. I have better things to do with my life.
So I have been wandering around talking to people. There are lots of people here that I know. And even more people here who know me. I am mastering the art of glancing quickly at people’s badges when they hail me because (I am pleased to note) the names on the badges are nice and large. So there I was talking Frank Wu into coming to the mimeo demo and trying to draw on a stencil (which he has given a provisional “yes” to) when some guy taps me on the shoulder. I blank for a few seconds. “I’m John Scalzi,” he says, “remember me?” *mega blush* I swear last time I saw him he was wearing a tiara and he looked totally different.
I’ve also taken advantage of the time to pop back to the hotel. I’d forgotten to put on a watch, and also I had forgotten all of my rules about hot weather. So I have blistered a toe, and I had forgotten to use Nalo Hopkinson’s secret remedy for sticky thighs. I will now head back out fortified against the heat.