Chapter 1, in which I arrive at BayCon.
So I got up at freakin' 5:45 this morning after a night of tempestuous sleep. Shower- check. Shave- hmm, nope, Mrs. Bad Astronomer is still asleep. Bigger suitcase than the one I packed last night so I can fit all the crap I'm bringing to the convention- check. Leave in a hurry because I'm running low on time because our puppy puked on the carpet in the middle of the night, and I didn't want Mrs. BA to wake up to that- check.
So I get on the road, tank up on gas ($3.19 a gallon!), and start driving. I love California driving on the weekends, because there's no traffic, but I hate California driving on the weekends, because no one is in a hurry, and people who drive 10 mph under the limit just love love love the left hand driving lane.
Nonetheless, I get to San Jose at 8:30, an hour and a half early. Yikes! The hotel won't let me register until 3, so I have no place to change, to shave, to iron my shirts. Nuts. So I sit in the car to change out of my driving t-shirt and into a nice button-down shirt, and realize I left my belt at home. OK then, I guess I'll be wearing t-shirts this weekend. And hey-- where's my camera? Probably with my belt. Damnation!
So here I sit in a hallway with a wireless connection, waiting another 35 minutes for my first panel (Where in Centaurus do Centauris Come From?) with no belt, no camera, and no one I know. I'm hoping some big famous author will walk by and start chatting, but so far it's mostly too-wide-awake fans with a bounce in their step and smiles on their faces. I had forgotten how happy people are at science fictions cons. I'm tired and grumpy from the drive and wishing I had a bed to nap in, but I'm thinking this is gonna be fun.