thefourthvine | Con Report Part 1: Wherein TFV Learns Valuable Lessons

Con Report Part 1: Wherein TFV Learns Valuable Lessons

Oh my god. Vividcon.

Yes, I have thinky thoughts to post here (including ones on Where This Journal Is Going), but I just got back from the most social weekend of my life (no, I am really not kidding) and now I'm getting some kind of plague. Coherence isn't going to be happening today. This is just my wow report, plus a few notes that I may forget as normal life returns.

Right now, though, I'm going to get out whatever reactions I can manage while being grimly stalked by a dog who apparently cannot believe that I left her again, despite her clear indication that she prefers me to be present at all times, ideally with food on hand. The last time I left her (in the excellent care of Best Beloved, let me note - this dog is not abused, no matter what she may tell you; she is a filthy, filthy liar) this resulted in serious sweet potato action. God only knows what the price will be this time. (I threw away the lone sweet potato we had before I left for VVC. Fool me twice, shame on me.)

So. I had a blast and I'm planning to go back if I possibly can, which - look. For all you fans who have been saying, "I am not a con person," there's a lesson here, and it is: if I can go to a con and have fun, maybe you can, too. It's worth considering. I am not the Fan Least Likely To, but I am very nearly that person, and I went. I had fun. I'm still capable of typing in mostly complete sentences. I am living proof that people who don't have social skills can still have good cons!

I'm not going to talk about who I met; I'd leave people out. But I do want to thank all the people who talked to me - you made the con work for me, seriously, because one thing I should have mentioned is that I lack the ability to start a conversation unless I have a direct question to ask. (No, really, do not say, "Just say hello!" Trust me, this is not useful advice in my case.) And I really want to thank the concom for inviting me, and being so nice to me. And, you know, all of VVC for being awesome. And, um - I'm getting sniffly. I mean, more sniffly. (I wasn't kidding when I said I was sick.) I probably need to stop before I'm openly weeping and clutching my con DVDs to my bosom, which might void their warranty.

Actually, I can't clutch my con DVDs to my bosom, as I've been re-watching them pretty obsessively, so there will probably be a Vids from VVC post coming up, likely long after everyone else has posted theirs.

In the meantime, here are nine things I learned at VVC.

There is no good way to explain to outsiders what, precisely, Vividcon is. Attempts to try will end in heartbreak, and that's even if you're not currently sitting next to a missionary singing for your soul in Korean. (True story. You don't want to know.) Three conversations that prove this:

At the Airport on the Way There:
Person who has been scrutinizing my t-shirt: Viv-id-con. What's that?
Me: It's a convention about fan-made music videos.
[Pause]
Person: *gets up and moves to a different chair about 15 feet further from me, as though I had said, "It's a gathering of people with highly contagious fungal diseases"*

Checking into the Hotel:
Checker-in person: So, you're here for...vivid dot com? Is that what it is?
Me: Vividcon.
Checker-in person: Right. All the girls together.
Me: Well, it's actually - see - okay, yes.

(This was the concept all the hotel employees seemed to carry away from it, actually: lots of female-type persons, together. The hotel shuttle driver said, "Was that the party with all the dancing ladies?" Spinelessly, I agreed. There were ladies, there was dancing: close enough. Plus, I liked the mental image this gave me. The hotel employee who asked me why there weren't any men at our party was a bit more of a problem. "There are," I said. "No, there aren't," he said. I did not say, "Then I nominate you to deliver the bad news to some people who genuinely seem to believe that they're guys," but in retrospect I should've. Or maybe just posted a note on the con suite board: "Hey guys, you're girls. Just FYI!"

After a while, I found myself wondering if the men attending the golf course managers' convention I once shared a hotel with - and, seriously, if you get to pick, I would not recommend golf course managers as party fun time companions - got remembered mostly as "the group with all the men." (I myself remember them as "the convention of guys you could pick out at fifty paces because a) they wore clothes that most people would don only as penance for something really bad, like maybe killing their father and marrying their mother, and even then lots of people would probably choose to put their eyes out instead, and b) they all hit on me." Keep in mind that I was 16 at the time.))

On the Airplane Home:
Woman next to me: So you went to Chicago and you stayed near the airport and you didn't leave the hotel? Why?
Me: I was at a convention. It was in the hotel. I was busy.
Man in the aisle seat: There are lots of things to do in Chicago, you know.
Me: Well, yes, I'm sure, but I was there for a convention, and -
Man: What kind of convention?
Me, warily: A fan-made music video convention.
[Long pause.]
Man, trying to sound upbeat: There are lots of great things to do in Chicago! Museums, the aquarium, art, you name it. Lots of heritage stuff, too.
Woman, apparently helping to sell the argument: There's shopping, eating, clubs - incredible. You can have a lot of fun in Chicago.
Me, quietly: I had a really good time.
[Another pause.]
Woman, obviously trying to be kind: Next time, honey, just stay downtown.

Lesson learned from this: Next time, I'm going to tell people I'm going to Chicago for a lesbian sex party.
There is nothing quite like watching vids in the company of large groups of people. I seriously wish I had a recording of the room as people watched Another Sunday, by jescaflowne. (I also wish I had a recording of everyone around me muttering, "barkley, oh my god, that's so obviously barkley" during one of the challenge vids. And, oh, lots of other things.) If you ever have the chance to go to a vidshow, go. Just for that.

Lesson learned from this: I'm going back to VVC. Oh, yes, I so totally am. (Someone remind me I said this next year, please.)
If you have hair that requires any kind of maintenance at all, by the second day of the con, you will have Con Hair. (Also known as "Oh, fuck it" hair.) Sensible people shave their heads prior to cons; those of us who can't do that just have to bring lots of ponytail holders and hairsticks. I suspect this is why they do Club Vivid on the first night, when we're all still capable of dressing up nicely.

Lesson learned from this: Next time, when my clothes should fit again, I'm dressing up for Club Vivid.
Naps are key. Going to a con is sort of like regressing in age a lot: you have snacktime, you have playtime, you spend all day with your friends and having fun, and then suddenly you find yourself deeply cranky and distractible and prone to bursting into tears. This is a sign that you need a nap. Take one. In other words, don't fall into the Disneyland trap, where you convince yourself that this is such a fabulous event that you must, must, must see and do absolutely everything. You can tell the people who think this at Disneyland: they're the parents with the sobbing kids and the couples who aren't speaking to each other. I didn't see anyone crying or fighting viciously at Vividcon, but then, most of us succumbed to the Need to Nap before disaster struck.

Lesson learned from this: Next time, I'm going to try to plan to nap, so I won't feel awful for sleeping through the panel I most wanted to attend. Making a schedule for myself before I left that included where I should be during every moment of the day and yet did not include nap time - um, that wasn't brilliant.
iPods are key. Because, okay, you may think to yourself, "I'll be watching to vids all day! What need will I have for extra music?" And, see, yes, precisely: You'll be watching vids all day. And it is inevitable that the song you like least out of all of them will get stuck in your head. In fact, it will sign a lease on valuable brain space (as in, you may forget your own phone number), settle in, and begin prospecting for a roommate. (You will not like the roommate, either, and you will really hate the mashup of them that appears in your head after they've spent some time together.) Only carefully selected music fully under your control can save you.

Lesson learned from this: Next time, I'm bringing my iPod. Also, I might make a playlist called For the Prevention and Treatment of Earworms. Actually, I might not wait until next VVC to do that.
Cons are noisy. Or, more specifically, large groups of women in small spaces produce a specific kind of noise; conversing over it is an acquired skill. If you talk a lot, don't expect to have a normal voice on the last day of the con.

Lesson learned from this: Bring throat lozenges. Possibly just bring a whole bunch and dump them in the con suite.
Everyone at the con will be smarter, prettier, and more talented than you. Or, to invert that concept, a lot of people are just as intimidated as you are. You will look at people's nametags and swoon. I thought I'd be surrounded by rockstars, and oh, I was. But these rockstars were, mysteriously, very nice to me. A lot of them seemed to know who I was. It was like attending an Oscar party and having people walk up to you and say, "Oh, hi! I like your posts!" (Only without the existential horror that actually being at an Oscar party and having someone say that would produce.)

Lesson learned from this: Vidfans are awesome and surprisingly kind.
In a con of 110 people, it is entirely possible to miss seeing 75% of the people attending. (I suspect this is more true when you spend half of your con time in the dark.) By Sunday, people had begun to doubt my existence; fortunately, I had marycrawford to swear that I a) existed and b) had existed right along. (I mean, at VVC. My mother can swear to my existence over a more protracted period of time.)

Lesson learned from this: Next time, I'm setting up dinners and lunches in advance. I may also look into the purchase of a large light-up hat with glowing letters that spell THEFOURTHVINE.
There is nothing quite as wonderful as the sight of fans having fun. Club Vivid was worth it even for someone medically forbidden to dance at the time (and aesthetically forbidden to dance always), and not just because jarrow272 dressed up in an actual pimp costume with a cape and everything. People were just - really really enjoying themselves. It was amazing, and it makes me smile every time I think of it.

Lesson learned from this: Cons are fun. VVC is fun. And I mean that both in general terms and for me. I <3 VVC forever.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hah. Yeah. Moi aussi.

Oh my god, I think of you as such the perfect person to go to a con with. I cannot believe you'd say you're not a con person! (Although that may be why I think of you as the perfect con companion.)

this proves not much

You should've seen my correspondence with the

strangefandom mods, right after I'd had surgery. I was *definitely* not making sense then or writing complete sentences, although I still managed to communicate the all-important "no buttsex in front of jealous witches" rule. (It's amazing how many people don't know that one. Do they not teach safer sex in schools these days?)

Or trigger it. Remember, these are con DVDs we're talking about.

Well, but I think if I emailed

absolutedestiny and said, "Um, I wept so much I kind of broke my con DVDs. I can has more DVDs, pls?" he'd shoot me.

Depending on the con - and the rooming arrangements - that's not far wrong sometimes

Very true. As Jackie K. said above, everyone has her own experience of VVC. I just figure, why not get that out there on the table? I'm pretty sure it's what some of the hotel staff was thinking. (Although VVC didn't have nearly as much rampant making-out as MJ sounded like it did. Unless I was just excluded from it. Maybe no one wants to make out with me? *clings to BB, who still does*)

Man, I so want a mash-up from you now.

You do NOT want the mashups that appear in my head. They are made of evil.

My family has a long tradition of forgetting the lyrics to things. There's a traditional Christmas song from my father's (i.e., the not Jewish) side of the family that goes, "Oh, the weather outside is ta-da/Ta-da-da, da-da, da-da-da/Ta da-da-da-da-da-da-da/Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow," for example. I seem to have expanded on this by a) replacing random words or words I forget with "puppy" and "dog," which are of course key to singing to dogs, and b) mixing up songs. So, for example, I often sing a song that goes, "Sometimes it's hard to be a woman/Giving all your love to just one man/Some people claim that there's a woman to blame/But I know it's my own damn fault." Or I sing, "Sometimes it's hard to be a puppy/Giving all your love to just one food/Some people claim that there's a Greyhound to blame/But I know it's just kibble's fault."

My point is: you don't want my mashups. I sure don't.

the Muskrat Jamboree night I spent "sleeping" in my rental car

...Am I allowed to ask why? Because I am now really curious.

Also: *GLOMPS*

*GLOMPS* back. I'm so glad you're around a bit more! It's been making me very happy to see you posting. *many, many hugs*

You do NOT want the mashups that appear in my head. They are made of evil.

I WANT THEM.

Hear me sing "Camptown Races" sometime - um, which I won't, though - and then say that. Or any of the songs I learned in "music class" in elementary school, all of which have vaguely blended into one long song that mostly seems to focus on cowboys and marching and peanuts.

Like, you know that song about how someone's in the kitchen with Dinah? And that other song about how someone or other came from Alabama with a banjo on her knee? When singing, I am incapable of remembering that those are two different songs. Also, I have tendency to convert them into minor key and sing really slowly, so it sounds like Dinah died in that kitchen after she came from Alabama. Died tragically. Maybe of Banjo Knee Syndrome. And we are all really sad.

You seem to think that all that was reason why I shouldn't want mashups. But it just makes me want them even more. You're already mashing up in your head!

There will be content (or some convincing imitation thereof) tomorrow, I hope. But I have been thinking of you off and on today, and I just could not close the browser without squidging you, even nonsensically.

*falls asleep on your shoulder, womanfully refraining from teh drool*

I cannot believe you'd say you're not a con person! (Although that may be why I think of you as the perfect con companion.)

Heh. Quite possibly - and that might make us a good con pair, indeed. But no, I am an almost entirely inexperienced con attendee - ConneXions 2005 was my first, MJ 2007 my second and most recent - and although MJ was wonderful ConneX was largely frightening, in that large-crowds-of-strangers-make-me-want-to-hide-under-the-bed way.

There is also this geekier-than-thou vibe that cons generate - which I am familiar with secondhand from having dated several geeks and being a wanna-be geek myself - that makes me slightly crazy, because I am manifestly ill-equipped to compete in that arena at fannish cons. I STILL have not seen all of due South; I refuse to watch anything in which Callum Keith Rennie rapes and/or murders anyone (which eliminates a surprisingly large amount of his oeuvre); I read only sporadically, usually when someone such as you or MMWD thrusts me at a story and says "If you do not read this now you will be sorry to the end of your days." I am, in other words, a lousy fan. But I am a decent audience member (and I do like and grok meta - easier to do than the details of a fandom, actually, at least for me), and if there are people around whom I know and like/love I am perfectly capable of having a lovely time, often without attending more than a handful of whatever panels are being offered. (At ConneX I went to two, and spent most of the rest of my time hiding in the food room with my crochet and people from HP. At MJ I went to four, but I spent the rest of my time in the ballroom doing things like admiring pictures of glittery cocks and eating China's excellent NZ chocolate. Very different experiences - thank GOD.)

...um. long, and possibly not on point. sorry.

I still managed to communicate the all-important "no buttsex in front of jealous witches" rule. (It's amazing how many people don't know that one. Do they not teach safer sex in schools these days?)

Only in the ones where they teach evolution, so, y'know, the good old rules are rather falling into disuse.

VVC didn't have nearly as much rampant making-out as MJ sounded like it did.

There was rather a lot of that, yeah :-). In part, I think, that's because MJ was as much a giant party with lots of fannish frosting as it was a traditional con as I understand that animal. (Mm, frosted animals.)

Unless I was just excluded from it. Maybe no one wants to make out with me?

Seems unlikely. Maybe there just wasn't anyone there you really wanted to make out with. Would BB go to a con with you, if asked?

My point is: you don't want my mashups.

Oh, I rather think I do. That one has been stuck in my head since I first read this comment, in the classic mashup way: it took me several tries to remember what the real third and fourth lines are. The way I see it, that means you have the perfect head for mashups. (Consider an MRI.)

Am I allowed to ask why? Because I am now really curious.

Heh. Oh, sure. There's no scandal - just stupidity. I could not afford a hotel for MJ 2007 - I was stretched veeeerrrry thin financially for the first few months of this job (slightly less so now) - so I arranged to stay with a friend who lived about ten minutes away by car from the con hotel. She did not have a working key for me the first day I was in Boston, as the hardware store had cleverly given her someone else's keys by mistake, so our arrangement was that I would call her that first night when I arrived at her building and she would come down and let me in. That night wound up being the only one on which I did any significant drinking (and actually, the rest of the con was considerably more fun sober than I'd imagined it would be - I didn't NEED that coping mechanism), so by the time I was ready to drop from tired I was also tipsy enough not to be thinking clearly. I left the hotel to get into my rental car to go over to her place, picked up my cellphone, and realized that it had died whilst I was carousing. When I went back into the hotel to see if they had a phone I could use, they were extremely unfriendly and suspicious; they refused to let me any farther in than the bits of the first floor they could see, and they refused to call anyone I knew was staying there because I, of course, could not remember anyone's actual room number and names meant nothing to these folks. So I couldn't charge the phone, and I couldn't reach the friend, and my wine-fuzzy brain refused to allow me to rent a room on my overstretched but still capable credit card...and so, after a brief interlude spent trying to get the back seats in the rental car to fold down so that I could stretch out in the trunk, I simply parked in the side lot at the hotel, left the car running for heat, tipped the driver's-side seat as far back as it would go, and "slept" until the sun woke me up.

Whee!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Con Report Part 1: Wherein TFV Learns Valuable Lessons

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

here lies exhausted driveby glomping sans content

no subject

continued, because LJ thinks I'm verbose (yeah)