It was way fun.

I have never been to a Journalcon before, so what do I know, but from the point of view of both a coordinator and an attendee, I think it could not possibly have gone better. The weather was beautiful, the panels were interesting, everything ran smoothly, and each and every attendee has now become my new best friend. (Mostly without their consent, but I'm bossy like that.)

I got to meet some writers I have long admired, like Pamie and John Scalzi. I saw a lot of my friends: most of the Bay Area journalers who have turned up at one Boozecon or another, and people like Krystyn and Karen who live annoyingly far away. And I met brand new people like Meg and Selila, and everyone was cute and sweet and fabulous and sexy.

The only bad thing about Journalcon was that I didn't get to talk to anyone for very long, or so it seemed. Getting people alone or in discrete groups was a challenge, and I always felt like somebody or another was missing. The best you could do was talk to the person in front of you, and hope for serendipity to bring everyone else your way.

Because as it turns out, you can't talk to seventy people at once. I tried my best, though.

I am really glad there are sixty-nine other people writing about this (and hopefully posting pictures) because there is no way I can remember everything; it's all a blur.

My personal highlights included:

My panels rocked! I had a panel at nine on Saturday, the very first panel, and I had no clue how to moderate the thing or anything. Fortunately, I had three brilliant panelists; they were all eloquent and stuff. Then I had another panel with three eloquent, brilliant panelists. On Sunday morning, I had eloquent panelists who were brilliant. See how that worked out for me?

Also, people actually showed up for the panels. Even on Sunday morning. after a wild karaoke-filled Saturday night, they showed up at nine in the freaking morning. I have to say that if I hadn't been forced to get up to moderate some panels, I don't think I could have managed it. (It would have been a shame, too, because the panels were great.)

Karaoke was so fun. After two beers, I seriously lost all sense of shame. From Britney to the Spice Girls, from Barry Manilow to George Michael, I was a complete karaoke whore, and I loved it. And for the record, Pamie sure can fucking sing. There were a lot of good singers (and believe me, I was so not one of them) but Pamie is in a league of her own, I think.

Also, the karaoke videos. None of them were quite up to the level of the vagina-thrusting video for "Let it Be" but there was a masturbatory one for "My Sharona" that was quite something. And speaking of masturbation, I had my very own karaoke song dedicated to me, "Playmate of the Year," which I had never heard of, but is apparently about some guy who digs some girl in "milky" ways. Thank you, Craig. (His name isn't Craig. He just looks like a Craig.)

Evany is the bomb. Emily is too cool for words. Molly Zero has the greatest smile. There is no way to avoid falling in love with AB. Sasha doesn't care if I call her Stella. Weetabix let me read an entry with her. Abbycat talked to me about biking. Diane introduced me to her baby. Ian (who will soon be writing a journal entitled "Guest of Beth") laughed at my jokes. Renee got a song stuck in my head. Kymm made me laugh. Lisa and I talked about our boobs. Michaelpie bought me a card. Ann shared her wine. Sars showed me her tattoo. Slavegirl made incredible cookies. Everyone let me hug them.

And even with all the links in this entry, I haven't even gotten started. I haven't mentioned Spinny or Lynda or Jill or Pineapple or Trish or Jenna or the rest of the Michaels.... It's overwhelming, really. So many people that I met and liked and wanted to spend more time with.

The coordinators all got presents and cards at the end of the convention. The attendees (with Amanda as their ringleader) had somehow managed to conspire behind our backs (so there is a cabal after all!) and sign these thank-you cards and give us fun stuff like picture frames and truffles. It was the most unexpected and wonderful thing!

Eventually, all good things must come to an end. (Isn't that poetic? I totally made that up.) I hated to leave (especially when some of my favorite people were still hanging around) but I still had to do proofreading work, and by that point, Pigwidgeon had been ensconced in three different hotel rooms, the convention room and the lobby, and I was getting antsy about getting him home.

(Yes, I brought Pigwidgeon with me; I am such a dork. He needed to get his meds twice a day, and the hotel's general manager said it was okay, so I brought him along. Lisa took him in as her roommate and even gave him his medicine a few times, and she was the wind beneath my wings. Or my bird's wings. Whichever.)

Parakeet issues aside, by the time I left, I felt completely wilted. Running around like a spastic puppy for three days can really do a number on you. Then there's the whole no-sleep issue, since I stayed up all night on Friday talking to Jen and all night Saturday talking to John. Oh, woe is me.

I had the best time at Journalcon, as if you couldn't tell. It made all the work worth it, ten times over, and I am going to do my damnedest to make it to the next one-- especially if it's in Austin; those kids are cray-zay. What else can I say?

Maybe I will step into a coordinator-like capacity and say thank you all for coming. You are the ones who made the con so phenomenal. And those of you who didn't make it-- you were missed. Better start saving up for next year!