Growing Up GenCon

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My hands are clammy and continue to tug at the bottom of my skirt. It took me four weeks and seven stores before I found a skirt that even roughly matched those suitable for a day of class. My wool sweater stifled me in the heat of the convention, no doubt worsened by my nervousness, and the white Oxford shirt scratched beneath. Why did I decide to wear this in the summer heat of Indianapolis? I had just spent an hour attempting to hand-stitch my Ravenclaw patch onto the just-arrived-from-the-internet robes, but ended up safety pinning it to the black cloth before leaving the room. Continue reading “Growing Up GenCon”

Attack of the Con Crud

It’s like some sort of super phlegm.

I really pride myself on my ability to stay healthy when I’m on my regular schedule at home. I exercise every morning; I eat healthy 5-6 days out of the week, and I get plenty of sleep every night. But at a convention, all of that changes. I’m thrown onto an airplane, which is basically a giant test tube festering with germs and viruses from all over. You sit there while the germy air circulates for an hour or two – more than enough time for it to fight its way past your immune defenses.

On top of initially flying to the convention, there’s the PEOPLE. GenCon had a record-setting attendance of 49,000 people. That’s a CRAP TON of people for me (I don’t go to SDCC) and at least 10%, if not more, come to the con already sick. Add to that the handshakes, the handling of merchandise, doors, handles – it’s just a giant germ fest. God, I’m creeping myself out here.

Continue reading “Attack of the Con Crud”