The big event is almost here! The 74th annual World Science Fiction Convention lands in Kansas City, MO (that’s the good Kansas City, there, I said it) next Wednesday through Sunday.
Here’s my schedule for the convention:
Wednesday: Arrive 5pm. Find Mike Underwood and make him do five shots of tequila while playing “Bat Spin” in the lobby.
Thursday: Noon-2pm. Afternoon nap spent spooning totally platonically and in a hetero way with Adam Rakunas.
Thursday: 6pm-12am. Hunt Deadpool cosplayers with a paintball gun.
Friday: 4am. Wake up to face the inevitable existential crisis and to pee.
Friday: 10am-4pm. Back in the ARB booth. Throw books at unsuspecting passersby and shout “You touched it, you bought it!”
Friday: 7pm-10pm. Lead a pack of sci-fi writers to local sportsball game between the KC Royals and MN Twins while wearing a Milwaukee Brewer’s shirt and shouting about “Hat Tricks” and “Field Goals.”
Friday: 10pm-2am. Stress test liver.
Saturday: 10am-2pm. Back to the ARB booth. Make a fort out of Jay Posey’s books. Live in it. Threaten anyone who gets too close with a paper cut in that little webbed spot between their fingers and a lemon.
Saturday: 4-5pm. Share a strawberry shake with Adam Rakunas, two straws. Shout at anyone who stares that it’s 2016 and it’s okay for two men in a totally non-romantic relationship to express affection for each other. I mean really…
Saturday: 6pm. Get showered and dressed for the Hugo Awards ceremony.
Saturday: 8pm-10pm. Live tweet Hugos while slipping progressively further into despair for my own career as I drain flask after flask of Scotch. Be pissed Ramez Naam isn’t there with the good stuff.
Saturday: 10pm-??? Attend room parties. Navigate crowds of Hugo winners and losers. Negotiate minefield of trying to make strangers and passing acquaintances laugh without saying something that will get me blacklisted.
Sunday: 10am. Make one of those hilarious blanket and pillow “dead bodies” for the housekeepers to find. Drive back home.