Orycon was a congenial little convention. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and yet I barely attended the con itself. I spent oodles of time in the Fan Room talking to an interesting mix of friends from around the world. I gave a party on Saturday night. I went to the famous Powell's bookstore, and the equally famous Multnomah Falls. I had brunch with two online journalists who are also sf fans. I saw my very good friend Doug Hanke for the first time in three years. It was great fun.
The offer of crash space with my online acquaintence had been too alluring to refuse. Not only would it save me money, always a fine thing, but I thought it would be lots of fun to just hang around his apartment and chat before and after the con events of each day. We'd met twice before, and he said he lived about three miles from the con so it would be a short commute, and he had an extra bed so there'd be no problem putting up guests. I was awfully taken aback when he mentioned a short time before the con that he expected me and FarSide, the other guest, to bring our own towels since he didn't actually have any spares. I overcame my surprise, told myself it must be because he didn't have a job, and bought him two sets as a housewarming present. I should have known right then, though, by the cavalier way he brought it up, that something wasn't right.
As we drove from the airport to his house I noted it was quite a bit further from the con hotel than the three miles I'd been led to believe. We got to his apartment building, talking pleasantly amongst ourselves, and he opened the door to his place. I went into shock. There was no floor space to be seen. The entire apartment had plastic bags, dirty underwear, sagging boxes of books, piles of clothing and linens, and other detritus strewn everywhere. There wasn't a single clear surface to sit on. The toilet was utterly disgusting. It was obvious he not only hadn't cleaned up for our impending visit, he hadn't cleaned up for months, if ever. The place was filthy. I was speechless.
I stood in a corner and watched him try to clear some space. He explained he'd been too busy fighting with the cable company about his cable problems to organize the apartment. "24 hours a day?" I said icily. He looked kind of sheepish. I tried to contain myself, knowing there wasn't a chance in hell I could rent a hotel room at the con so late in the game. I would have to stay. He continued moving the piles of stuff around, and soon started making up the bed where I'd be sleeping. When I saw him pulling out the pillowcases from the bottom of a heap of clothes on the dirty floor I just covered my eyes and tried to convince myself it would be like camping.
Happily, the rest of the con made up for it. I had most enjoyable meals with small gatherings of friends, including VJ and Anita. I heard Dave Langford speak twice, making me laugh immoderately each time, and getting a big smooch from him when I said goodbye later on. I had an excellent evening with Doug and his fiance Kari, talking over old times and gossiping most agreeably about how everyone has changed since we all met back in '95. I bought two new Terry Pratchett novels, and a book on Ancient Rome. I had an excellent time visiting Multnomah Falls with FarSide and Redbird. I took lots of photos.
I particularly enjoyed experiencing a Pacific Northwest autumn again for the first time in about 17 years, reveling in the chill air, misty mornings, and brilliant foliage, abruptly becoming homesick at the sight of Mount Hood's snowy peak and blue foothills, all staples of my childhood. I decided I would like to get up to Portland more often, and I'll probably go back to Orycon next year. I'll make one small alteration to my plans, though. Next time, I'm renting a hotel room.
