My report actually starts a year ago, when the announcement is made that, against all expectation, the only convention I ever really attend is coming to my city. Glory! Happiness! Chicago! I ask Mr. Merlin how much I can get involved with the staff, to which he gives his typical reply that I will do whatever I want to, anyway. (He is observant.) I contact the con chair Ellen, and we chat first via email and then over the phone. I am to be in charge of the kids' con, have a suite where the small fry can go, arrange activities, and so on. I research Chicago Mad Science, and I get games ready (the pin-the-tail-on-Bronx from my daughter's birthday party, make and crack open your own stones with gargoyles inside). I start chatting and hanging out a bit with Doppleganger, who is also local and excited about the con, and try coaxing local fans in my group of friends to help out at least on the weekend of. Ellen alas loses net access for a while, and when she comes back, she puts me in touch with co-chair Susan, who is now in charge. No kids' con, no suite, and she's never heard of me or Doppleganger or any of the rest of us. Then TaraLJC, what has been in the fandom since the days of Rat.org, lets us know we've counterprogrammed Wizard World Chicago, also known as the Really Frakking Big Con that comes to Chicago one a year.

The phrase "We're doomed" is quietly (and not so quietly) spread among the locals.

I mail out fliers to all the local comic shops anyway, hoping to generate some walk-in traffic from Spider-Man fans who hate big crowds. Doppleganger hands out fliers at Midwest Furfest which does bring in walk-ins to the con. The tentative schedule is posted online and I realize that I can't bring my daughter to this because there's nothing for her to do and she's not old enough to attend several of the panels. I call Susan and offer to work registration all weekend.

And then it is Friday. I catch an earlier train than I'd planned, which puts me into Evanston an hour before registration opens. The con staff is collecting on the ninth floor, which gives me a chance to finally meet the people I've been talking to for the past year, and also to discover that I'm not on the con staff. The cloud of doom grows, so I go to meet up with Mandolin and BrooklynX, my roommates for the weekend. The day instantly improves, as I've known Mandolin for years. We head out for Panera, and the world becomes a much better place as viewed from the bottom of an iced mocha cup.

Registration opens, more or less on time, and then the fun really begins. Old faces from the mid-90s, new people walking in off the street, all merge into this great seething wave of geekery clad in Hot Topic t-shirts with Goliath on. BrooklynX and Sarah the Great join PatrickAT and myself at the desk, and Sarah and I quickly bond over our shared foodie tendencies and SCIENCE. The panels begin at noon, with Greg Weisman talking over one of the rooms and staying there all afternoon. The hotel has excellent wifi in the ninth floor hallway (which is entirely OURS) so the hallway becomes the de facto con suite, and the con suite is given over to a viewing party of Spectacular Spider-Man. Paypal becomes our new best friend as walk-ins ask if we accept credit cards. We start selling raffle tickets for two animation cells donated by Ellen and Susan, and people start sporting "scarves" of long strings of orange Keep This Coupon tickets. "Write your name on the back" becomes a fast mantra since everyone asks if they have to attend the Masquerade to win. Gorebash is reunited with his lost luggage. Everybody wins.

MannOfTalent comes by, in the area for an event at Northwestern, and he hangs out at Registration until Opening Ceremonies begin. The Opening Ceremonies open with a vid show that is a surprise to people who are me and hadn't actually read the program before passing it out. (An aside: your garden variety Merlin is an enormous fanvid snob. I blame bad influences from friends, who help run VividCon. An additional aside: it was nice to attend a con where there were in fact enough open spaces available at the con so that everyone who wanted to come could, which is a lesson VividCon could stand to learn.) Some of the vids turned out to be surprisingly (from the standpoint of enormous video snobbery) good. Then Uncle Greg gives his annual presentation of the leica reel, the initial pitch, the media presentation, and what has apparently become a new annual event, the Atlantis episode that never was. Also, he continues to harangue us to spread the word: the new DVDs will never be released without good sales on the old ones, and buying the Hot Topic shirts might get Disney's attention. So there's that.

We break for supper, and our Eating Crowd goes out for Thai, which somehow turns into going to a British-themed pub. The food is good and the company is great! Afterwards, we walk the streets in search of booze and ice cream, locating both in appropriate quantities. Mandolin and I go back to the room to crash, and BrooklynX ends up hanging out with the Cool Kids.

Saturday morning, I wake up at 6:30 for no good reason, and eventually the three of us stumble back to Panera for our morning caffeine infusion. The day starts with a panel in one room and Radio Show auditions in another. MannOfTalent comes back so he can try out for the show, and even more familiar faces trickle in. The Dealers Room is up and running in full swing. The crocheted dollies of the cast are the most revered products being sold, and sure enough, as soon as enough are sold, people start taking pictures with the dolls in suggestive poses. Flanker arrives, to the delight of many, and while the Radio Show people rehearse, Mara tells people how to draw dirty pictures. I duck out with MannOfTalent in tow to check out the Evanston Art Festival going on right outside the hotel doors. One tent sells little animal marionettes, which I consider picking up as a souvenir for the sprogs. Others sell appetizing-scented foods, glass windchimes, framed art, and pretty, artsy dresses. (I buy a dress because Mandolin and Sarah both say they are dressing up for the Banquet, and I am all about caving into peer pressure when it comes to acting girly.) Again, everyone wins.

There's a storm. There isn't supposed to be one; the satellite photos show everything south and east of us, but the rain comes in hard and everyone who went out to enjoy the nice summer weather gets drenched. Several of the tents at the Art festival get smashed by wind and hail, and ambulances take away ten people (rumored) who are injured. Looking out from the ninth floor balcony, I'd say it looks like a bomb went off, but that looks different. The marionette tent is destroyed, making Lynati's new toy raccoon a very rare item indeed. From the hallway, we spot a rainbow, though the colors are inverted, leading to rousing (and worried) choruses of: "Physics doesn't work that way." As the Radio Play begins, the storm comes back and the actors have to shout their lines over the hammering rain on the roof and wall of the auditorium. Greg sells himself short and says it's not going to be as good the way he's telling it now, and he is proven wrong. The line of the night comes from something already published, and "I'll call you Amp" gets the best reading ever from Thom. Seth plays Amp, and between their interplay, the great accents by the newbies, and the magical item chat, the show is truly fabulous.

While the play is going on, the pizza place we want to visit afterwards calls me to say their power has been knocked out by the storm. Our dinner crowd reassembles and goes for pizza at a different place that still turns out to rock, if not as much as Giordano's would have. Those of us from Chicago share our sadness that we couldn't provide proper Chicago-style pizza, but the substitute does not suck at all. Back at the hotel is wine and an impromptu Doctor Who party courtesy of YouTube. The Blue Mug-a-Guest at ten fills up quickly. I sit with Ellen close to the back, and we find out that the con staff took the guests out to get liquored up too, so the guests are a little tipsy on the stage and the staff is loud and tipsy in the back of the room. There are many questions about the mechanics of gargoyle sex and I realize that I'm in the minority, being interested in the rest of the cast.

Sunday morning comes way too soon, and Panera's coffee once again substitutes for any remaining sleep. Joel Silver is Mugged at ten, but there's a comic panel in which Greg and Karine Charlebois tease us and won't tell us anything. The comic will definitely run until issue twelve, but Disney may up the license fees for the comic now that they're starting their own comic line. SLG can't afford an increase, and will drop the book if that happens. Meanwhile, the next book will be Dark Ages, assuming licensing works and Bad Guys sells well. Numbers will out, folks. Greg has ideas for so many stories, and he wants to tell them, but all we can do is buy the books and tell our friends to buy the books too. This panel is followed by a Spidey panel and a book-making session, and then the best thing in the entire artistic history of Gargoyles fandom occurs: the Iron Artist competition's theme is the Ultra Pack and the secret ingredient is PASTA. Macaroni Hyena by Crystal for the WIN. I possibly fail in my attempts not to have a "That'll give you bees" moment in front of Keith David as I squee inanely about the pasta art, and I don't care. The auction meanwhile gets heated, and Keith loses a pack of Gargoyles playing cards to someone who will be our fourth roommate later. He also bids fiercely for a Goliath bank but I never discover the final owner. The autograph session follows, and I make the mistake of lugging Margaret-the-laptop with me during it, which puts my shoulder out of commission for three days. However, I also meet Ursula while I wait in line, and she knows TaraLJC, and we spend time catching up on JLU fandom and making fun of Tara for not coming to our con. (Okay, that might have just been me.) Thom autographs the shirt I'm wearing, and I manage not to sputter too badly at Keith and Greg when they sign my comics.  Karine is less intimidating, making her the perfect end to the line.

Then it's time to go upstairs and get ready for the Banquet. I remind myself why painting my fingernails and toenails is a terrible idea while Mandolin showers and BrooklynX fills me in on his character Chaos. Suddenly it's two minutes past six and I still haven't gotten dressed or done my hair, and Mandolin and I manage the world's fastest Get Pretty session before the three of us dash downstairs for dinner. Sarah has saved us seats at her table, and Siryn and her sweetie are there, and two folks whose names I never caught all weekend but who are wonderful company regardless. The evening is marred for me only by the fact that my bra isn't staying where it's supposed to, and I have to duck out to stash the damned thing in my purse before it winds up around my waist. I spend the rest of the night readjusting my dress every so often so I don’t accidentally flash people.

We eat the food, and everyone who made it to Tennessee chats up the hot dogs and way too buttery mashed potatoes from last year. This year, the chicken is dry, the vegetables are overcooked, but the sauce is nice and the tart is divine. And coffee! Jen steps up for the trivia contest, which our table manages to blow on the very first question (the number of eggs that went to Avalon), but we have a great time anyway. I end up sitting by a fan whose first name escapes me, but he is Chicago Clan and we spend both the Banquet and Masquerade talking Midsummer, ren faire, folk music, and original universe ideas. The Masquerade is a delight, though smaller than I remember. Only a handful of people are in costume. Patrick from Minnesota does a phenomenal turn as a tourist gargoyle, Karine is smokin' hot as Robyn Canmore, Demona Taina is an equally impressive Shari, and Noel Leas treats us all to a delightful bellydance routine, complete with wardrobe malfunction and recovery. Furries may be at the bottom of the Geek Hierarchy, but the two furgargs turn out to be adorable as anything and win the Cutest Couple prize. Justin's Odin gives us a standup routine I am totally going to tell my sweetie later when I remember all the jokes. Halloween King does a very impressive medieval Hunter.

Keith's kids (and Susan's, I think) dance the night away. The dancing gets interrupted by the announcements of the winners and the raffle drawing (Karine and Gore take home the animation cels), and it never really gets back into swing. By ten thirty, I'm ready to pack it in for the night, but on our way back to the room, my roommies get invited to tournament Uno in Thom's room, and before we know it, we're slapping down Scooby Doo cards and Thom's making a 7-Eleven run for candy. I get to introduce people to the wonder and glory of Dark Chocolate M&M's while Thom lets us know he's in the next Scooby OAV and we all gab about the Taco Bell turtle. Phil wins major points with me for pointing out that human trafficking is BAD. Then, Ethan introduces Thom to goatse, which if you don't know, do not under any circumstances Google.

Monday morning arrives even earlier than I thought possible, and with it, the fanfic panel with Kimberly and Lynati. I am amused by the handout, which turns out to be a cover page about the pitfalls of spellcheck, and then three essays I wrote about various things. The panel is reasonably well-attended, and I attempt not to take over at various points, though I fail more than once. Afterwards, there's a panel about Greg's new plan with Jen, Mara and more, and they promise there will be porn. Sadly I am more interested in sleep and seeing my kids again, and give a last set of hugs to the people I see on the way out so I can run to catch the train home. Next year's con will be in L.A., and it might as well be on the Moon as far as my travel abilities stand. I doubt it will come back to Chicago after this, so I have probably just seen many of these people for the very last time. I regret, a little, not staying to Closing Ceremonies and giving out more hugs, but I hate good-byes and this is better.

It wasn't the greatest weekend of my life, but it reminded me of all the things I love about cons, and this con in particular. Many times over the weekend, someone commented about being crazy or weird, and I welcomed them to Their People Who Are Also Me. There was a lot more sex talk than I remember before, and I think this time around, I heard more uses of the word "fuck" from the guests than I've had a chance to use ever since the eldest sprog learned to copy our speech. The personality conflicts I was worried about (you don't know people for twelve and thirteen years without the occasional impulse to smack some of them in the head, not if you're me) didn't materialize, which was nice. The personality problems I did see looked like more a matter of newbies not knowing all the rules. None of the con attendees were hurt in the storm, and no one was killed by collapsing tents or flying glass. The hotel staff, all old friends of MannOfTalent, weren't nearly as freaked out by us as past hotels have been. I wish they would have let us bring our own stacks of munchies to the con suite, but the food they provided was pretty swell, and I didn't want for caffeine all weekend. The view from the reg desk overlooked the Lake, which I never ever get tired of seeing, even as it transformed from aquamarine to steel grey under the sudden inrush of clouds. While many people knocked over the big cel of Goliath from "Temptation," no one broke it. I spent a lot of time observing a lot of spectrum behavior from a lot of people, and it reminded me how lucky I am that the younger sprog is getting help early so that maybe people won't be cruel to him at his first con. It also reminded me how lucky we all are to have a place we can come and not be considered weird for talking about cartoons and looking at naked and/or macaroni pictures of those cartoons. It doesn't matter what you do for a living, where you live, or how well you’re dressed: once you bring up animated smut, people are going to look at you funny and sidle away. At this con, someone will walk up to you and hug you and ask your opinion on rotini. I love that.