Getting There | Friday | Saturday/Cosplay | Sunday

Now that the convention is wrapping up, Sunday is typically a short day, comprised mostly of packing up, checking out of the hotel, maybe catching a few series or panels, and scoping out the "we don't feel like carrying this crap back to the van" sales at the Dealers Room. For us, however, it's never that easy. Remember last year's ACen, and Nick's mysterious absence? Better yell "Do It Rockapella" because it's time to play...

Sunday

Where in the World is Nick Fox?

Again, a fairly healthy night's sleep (my days of Lain binging seem to be over). I started the day by leaving the side bedroom and snapping some after pictures of the hotel room.

Not pictured are the other two bedrooms or the three bathrooms. Fansubbers are known for luxurious accommodations.

The plan was quite simple. Nick wanted to meet up with friends at the FUNimation panel, then return and heave our bags to the car. Then he left... never to return. Checkout's still at noon, so you know the drill...

We were a few blocks away from the con, so we were powerless to do anything but guard our stuff... and take bad pictures.

Sara taking a picture of me taking a picture. Since they actually had their s**t together, HockeyChicken took off for Ocean City, figuring they'd have a good chance of finding the ocean there. No word on if they were successful.

You can see how closely I'm guarding Nick's DDR pad.

Nick finally returned from the 11:00 panel at about 1:15, and asked us why we didn't have the lobby store our stuff like last year (note: we did *not* have the lobby store our stuff last year). Scott and I would have killed him if we didn't need him to drive that damn Saturn. Anyway, we lugged our stuff to said Saturn and stored it safely in the shadow of Camden Yards. With the baseball stadium across the street, I noticed that I had my Cubs hat in the car. Seeing as I was already wearing my Packers shirt... I figured I'd don the cap and really confuse people.

Since Nick wanted to catch the closing ceremonies, and I had another panel to hit, we agreed to meet back at the car at 3:30. Back at the con, the Cubs cap immediately got a response in the hallway, but not the intended one.

Eerily nice Yankees fan: Cubs fan, eh?
Clueless Cubs fan: Yes. Yes I am.
Eerily nice Yankees fan: Bet you're happy.
Clueless Cubs fan: Why's that? I've been drowning in anime for the last two days.
Eerily nice Yankees fan: You got Nomar!!
Clueless Cubs fan: Yay... who'd we give up?
Clueless Cubs fan: (thinking) If it's Matt Clement, I'm going to throw his pinstriped ass off the balcony.
Eerily nice Yankees fan: Your shortstop... Gon...
Clueless Cubs fan: Alex Gonzalez?! That's it?!
Clueless Cubs fan: (thinking) NOMAH BABY!!!

Yes, he's overrated, but you have no idea how badly we needed a shortstop.¹

Anyway... I rejoined Scott and we kicked into motion part two of "Operation Harass the Hug Me's." With the massive amount of sad losers holding signs saying "Hug Me," clearly desperate for any human contact, Scott and I did the only natural thing- mess with their heads. Saturday, it was mainly about the way Scott hugged them. If there was only one, he would fake narcolepsy and fall asleep mid-hug. If there was a row of them, he'd hug one, then force her down the row and hug six or seven at a time. If they were standing near a ledge... well, we never had the guts to try it. Of course, with a few holding "Glomp Me" signs, Scott naturally took advantage...

...with a running start, mind you. Someone stepped out of the way once. That was fun.

Someone dressed as the bar on a DDR machine was holding a sign and I made Scott hug him. Mostly for my twisted humor- "bar hugging" is DDR slang to describe the annoying tendency of holding onto the bar while playing. A particularly spiteful alternative is "bar raping," but I didn't want to go that far.

But that was Saturday. Sunday, we decided to take the next step. I wrote out a mock disclaimer (complete with indiscernible legalese) stating that Scott was a registered sex offender and desperate fangirls would need to sign a waiver in order for Scott to give hugs.

Everybody signed the thing. Reactions ranged from (and I wish I was making this up) "Yay! Sex offenders!" to a few people who actually bought it... and signed anyway. Tired of the lack of concern, Scott and I expanded the ruse to the point where Scott would whisper "You smell nice..." during hugs. We also created a backstory involving a police officer and a Sakura costume. Next year I'm typing up something ahead of time and putting it on letterhead (I should also befriend a notary public in the near future).

The panel I wanted to catch was Lianne Sentar on getting published in writing or art. Lianne is one of the minds behind http://www.sleepisfortheweak.org and also a Sailor Moon fanfiction writer turned professional. She also writes the English adaptation for the Digimon manga, and I hear she does a very good job with what she has to work with. Besides a few pointers I can store away if Matt and I ever get going on our manga project again, we also shared a connected moment for our love for Digimon (although she didn't like Tamers for some reason), and our sort-of-kind-of support for ff.net (she was impressed enough that I topped 100 reviews on "Level 2;" she would have gone through the roof if I told her about "Odaiba Memorial Day"). The ff.net discussion is still very applicable now, since she was very supportive of the site even though she doesn't visit often because of an uncontrollable atmosphere that was "no fault of anybody's." We now know what happens when they try to control it.

After that, I joined Scott and Nick at Stellvia2 (and remarkably enough, they were actually there at the designated time) and we bid farewell to Baltimore. The ride home was amazingly smooth, and I somehow managed to not kill the car (I won the bet, beating Scott 4-0). We made just three stops, although I mistakenly picked the third driving shift, leaving me incredibly groggy for the drive back to Sturgeon Bay. I had to take a nap at a rest area on I-43, but early Monday morning I was home:

Welcome to Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin. Eat your heart out.

At least I've got a nice place to go home to this time.

After a day-long nap, I went out to waste the remainder of film on pics of my apartment and the surrounding area. I did save one for the all important picture of my Otakon swag:

Like I said, I got stares reading Battle Royale on the way home.

And just for kicks, here's my final trip expenditures:

This is where I'm supposed to insert a "Priceless" joke... but not after looking at that.

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SEE YOU SPACE COWBOY...

Footnotes

1. Too bad he wasn't it.