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”
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.