mrwubbles: (mr wubbles)
[personal profile] mrwubbles
(sigh)

It's always a sad time to wake up on Memorial Day and realize that it is time to do the following:

1. decide how you are going to squeeze your 4 days of clothing back in a bag where it fitted before but apparently shrunk the minute you came through the doors of the Lansing Holiday Inn
2. decide if you can risk throwing your back by packing all your new fanzines on a carry-on (like who cares if the airlines lose your dirty laundry?) on the slim possibility that you mutated to SuperWoman over the weekend and can surely lug 40 pounds worth of bound paper on your shoulders
3. try to remember where the heck you put all those flyers up and how the heck did we hand our door decorations that high without a ladder? (Wubbles tilts head up to peer at out of reach flyer above the elevator. Bear swoons.)?
4. wait in line, fill out registration for next year, then wiggle fingers in preparation for the golden hotel ticket (cue in Botticello angels trumpeting as you shove hand in cardboard box and pray for a low number ticket to score a room for next year)(Mr Wiggles cover beady eyes. He can't take the suspense.)
5. make one last circuit around the dealer's room, even though you know you can't simply pack one more zine in, can't simply buy another thing, and- oh, was that photo there the last time?
6. say farewell to open-faced roast beef and biscuits
7. leave your room door open as you pack so you can squeeze the maximum amount of chat time with every single person going by
8. try to figure out how to hug everyone at the same time and chain them to your luggage so you can take them all home with you

It's very depressing because it's like for the past 4 days you were saying hello to 400+ of your friends, meet new faces from online, chuckle with old friends squashed in a hotel room with a huge video marathan as you try to brainwash a new fan to the dark side.

Then Sunday night comes, you're in denial, maybe you can stay awake all night and make it last, wait, there's one more thing we hadn't chatted about yet, and oooh, gonna miss you so much, before whump! You wake up realizing you're face down in the bed, had mastered the 1.5 hour speedy sleep, and had Zz-ed off mid-sentence on a very thought-provoking conversation with your roommate!

(Wubbles shakes head in dismay, then helps himself to a cuppa tea. He has no sympathy. Being a bear and all, you know.)

As tradition goes for any of us, Hummingbirds for breakfast on the very last day was our destination. (Wubbles and Fan-Girl shuffle down the halls to said place, hoping they have a coffee fountain somewhere) One last chance to chat, contemplate the upcoming seasons on our favorite shows, and internally debate if one can really afford to eat all that bacon?

I think the saddest part for me and Wubbles is hugging everyone goodbye. (Wubbles blows into a hanky then have the audacity to offer it to Fan-Girl. Fan-Girl gags.) Okay, we will see each other again online and heck, maybe on lists, on LJ, and meet up later on down the road in person. But there's just something about Mediawest: meeting up with everyone, wandering hotel room to hotel room- open to friendly conversation and wicked fanzine buying, late night fic plotting over french fries and milkshakes. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Mediawest is like one giant dorm room party or better yet, slumber party as the night life really kicks it up at 11pm! (Wubbles yawns and nods sleepily in agreement)

Had a late flight for home (was trying to maximize my Monday) so Penfold and I decided to say farewell as well to Bob Evan's. Sitting in the booth, trying really be good and go something different.

....

Really. We should. Right, Wubbles?

....

I mean, we had this every single day. Sometimes twice, even.

....

I mean, take a look at the chicken pot pie. That looks yummy too. Or chicken fried steak? That was your favorite last year, Wubbles.

....

"Can I take your order?"

Wiser friend of mine (the better half of the team) chooses something different. Waitress turns to me, Fan-Girl balks, and:

"Uh, I'll have the open-faced roast beef with the mashed potatoes and celery dressing?"

(Fan-Girl drops head to table in disgust. "Wubbles!" Bear says nothing, but slyly sneaks a bit of biscuit with furry paw and serenely dip biscuit in yummy gravy)?

Sigh.

Score By Now:

Total: 18 fanzines purchased, 0 workouts, disgustingly huge amounts of calories consumed, 12 hours of sleep totalled, 3 fans brainwashed (yes! 2 more and I win a toaster!), 22 coffees consumed, 1 prayer to my Starbucks coffee, 7 open faced roast beef entrees consumed at Bob Evan's, 6543 times wondering what day it was, 763975 times wishing time would freeze for a moment longer, 23 pounds extra gain in luggage due to fanzines, and...

1 sad Fan-Girl. I hate goodbyes. (Wubbles tearfully waves a hanky at friends then braces itself as crazy Holiday Inn driver makes yet another sharp turn)

See you all next year!
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