OryCon itself was terrific. I had what I considered to be the classic convention experience: I went to a bit of the opening ceremonies, I visited the Art Show, I bought books and artwork at the Dealer's Room, I was on a panel, I did a shift at the Fanzine Lounge, I cut out from the con and went to a bookstore, I learned three secrets, and I was asked to work on an upcoming convention. Also typically, I missed seeing or hearing the Guests of Honor, I failed to connect with two of the people I most particularly wanted to hang out with at the con, I insulted someone within their hearing, I had to borrow money on the last day in order to eat, and I bought far more than could actually fit in my suitcase so I gave myself sore muscles and neck strain plus had to gingerly balance some delicate artwork in my lap on the plane which made reading very difficult. I had a great time.

I went to the opening ceremonies chiefly to entice Ben Yalow out of there so he could join me and Janice Gelb for dinner. We ate fish, and talked about mathematics, and I bought Janice dinner because she's observant and it was after sunset on Shabbos so she couldn't handle money (she paid me back the next day). Ben drove us, and I recalled the first time he gave me a ride somewhere. It was August, 1983, after a pre-Worldcon party on Long Island, and it was both my first visit east of the Rockies and my first Worldcon. I remember being very impressed that Ben had a car. I have no idea why. This time, I was impressed to hear that even the tremendously bright son of a physicist and a Nobel winning chemist got to a point with math where he just couldn't go any further and gave up science in favor of a sensible degree in business. I didn't know Ben had an MBA.

The Art Show surprised me by having no bad art. There was a fair amount in questionable taste, but aside from two little paintings of cats in spacesuits there wasn't any of your actual badly executed, oddly proportioned, fanboy style art. There was, however, some shockingly expensive stuff on display. I had to double check the number of zeros when I examined the price tag of one painting that took my fancy. Yes, it really was listed at $3400. My mouth dropped. Guess it's been a while since I looked at any of the good stuff. I didn't put in a bid on anything as I had thought I might possibly do.

Instead, I marched upstairs to the Dealer's Room and looked at Leslie Newcomer's vast array of cat artwork. I know it's horribly twee of me, but I bought a gorgeous print of an Egyptian cat with a nice hieroglyph border. There was nothing fannish about it, I just liked the colors of cinnamon brown and sky blue. Well, all right, the back of the print had an embarrassing "translation" of the hieroglyphs but I didn't notice when I bought it. Honest!

I also bought a Steven Brust novel I didn't have (Dragon), looked at several tables of jewelry (most of it too goofy for me), then longingly fingered the latest Terry Pratchett (The Fifth Elephant) without buying it as I still balk at spending $40 on a hardcover. I'm waiting until it's published in the States, thank you very much. I would quite like a copy of his collaborative The Science of Discworld but my two so-called friends FarSide and Sherman just happened to buy the only two copies Wrigley Cross Books had at the con.

Speaking of FarSide, I discovered something absolutely hideous about him. He's cheerful in the morning. Granted, he was three hours ahead of me, internal clock wise, but nonetheless it was horrifying. I forgave him only because he made coffee before he left the room while I was still feebly trying to find the nearest sharp object so I could throw it at him. Besides, I figured we were even since I know perfectly well that I snore sometimes.

While I was looking at Amy Thomson's new novel, a sequel to The Color of Distance which I liked, I beckoned Paul Wrigley close to ask what he thought of it. "I hated her first novel," I confided in a hushed voice, looking around furtively to make sure Amy wasn't anywhere nearby, "although I absolutely loved TCoD."

"You did?" Amy said, popping round from behind a bookshelf.

"Yes!" I said brightly, desperately hoping she only heard the last half of that sentence. "I absolutely loved TCoD." Paul gave me a sympathetic look which I in no way deserved.

I spent most of my time hanging out in the Fanzine Lounge, the traditional home of my people at these large conventions. I chatted with Bill Bowers, the Fan Guest of Honor, quite a bit. I made a run to Powell's with Tami Vining and Ellen Klages. Then I was drafted by Bruce Pelz to be on the Fan Funds Panel which didn't have anything so formal as a podium or a moderator but simply consisted of five of us talking about what controversies have arisen over the years and what place fan funds have in today's fandom. The fan funds, for readers who are unaware of them, are a forty-four year tradition of sending a fan from one country to another as a kind of social ambassador. They're funded by contributions, auctions, and voting fees. Though there had been several one-off funds to bring various fans across the water as early as 1942, the first actual winners were Ken and Pam Bulmer, who came over to the1955 Worldcon in Cleveland under the aegis of TAFF, the Trans Atlantic Fan Fund. It was such a huge success that it created spinoffs. DUFF was initiated in the 70's and stands for Down Under Fan Fund. There is also CUFF, GUFF, and FFANZ which I leave to you to work out.

The discussion got lively when we started talking about a well known vocal minority in fanzine fandom who have basically dismissed everyone's worthiness for the last ten years or so. Fandom has changed, but these guys haven't, and they resent it so they make trouble. I was somewhat surprised to be informed by everyone that I was probably the last uncontroversial fan fund winner (I won DUFF in 1987). It's great to be loved, but I wish people accepted online participation in fannish newsgroups as a fan activity, and I say this as someone who deeply resented Teresa Nielsen Hayden's nomination for a Fan Hugo based solely on her writing on for a round table discussion group at a proprietary online service, GEnie, back in the early 90's. You had to pay to belong above and beyond your ordinary ISP fees, so her work wasn't truly accessible in my opinion. Now that newsgroups are free and widely available to anyone with Internet access I think thoughtful posting somewhere like rec.arts.sf.fandom is a valid fannish activity much like writing letters of comment to Astounding once was. Alas, not everyone feels this way.

And speaking of fanac, the most amazing thing that happened to me at the con was being asked to chair another Corflu. Jeanne Bowman wants to do another Bay Area Corflu in 2001, and since Tommy Ferguson's Belfast bid fell through there isn't anyone else who has expressed interest in holding it. Since I chaired one a mere three years ago, and next year's is being held on the West Coast already, it never occured to me to put together a bid. But most of the people in the Fanzine Lounge seemed to be in favor of the idea, and since Corflu bids are traditionally decided on by fandom informally and by word of mouth long before any official announcements, I thought I'd follow up later this week by talking further with Jeanne to see if we can work together. If yes, I'll write to Ted White and his Group Mind to see what they think. I think it would be fun as hell to do one here.

I'm not telling you the three secrets, of course.

I did well in terms of having meals with a limited number of people, meaning no more than four at a time, and spending quality time with almost everyone I knew including Bryan Barrett, Bob Webber, VJ, and Anita. Visiting with MOO friends was slightly hit and miss, unfortunately. I was delighted to visit Doug "Sherman" Hanke's new house and have dinner with him, his wife Kari, and Steve "FarSide" Boyd. I didn't, however, see anything of Petrea "Spindizzy" Mitchell or Chris "Eightball" French after they came out to the airport to meet me. Our convention schedules were just too different. It's a good thing I go to Portland at other times of the year, otherwise I'd never get to see them. I will be back up there in August for the Huntzinger Family Reunion (John: "They're going to hug me, aren't they? Your family keeps hugging me.") so I hope to see them then.

Truly, other than a couple of missed opportunities, and despite my fellow passengers rioting at the airport, it was the ideal convention experience. Although next time I'm flying United.

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