Blog on the Lillypad
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
Saturday
Much to my annoyance, my eyes snapped open at 3:45 a.m. It wasn't excitement. United Fan Con East is my fifth convention. I am old and I like to sleep. But my body was having none of it. Whatever the reason, I was wide awake. I doggedly stayed in bed until about quarter to five; then I gave up and decided to write up some notes based on what Lis Sladen had said about Sarah Jane and what makes a good story.
This task actually got pretty interesting, and I figured out the ending for Death and Chocolate and jotted it down in note form. (Now all I have to do is write the middle!)
I showered and got into clothes for the day. Down the hall, Kevin had a DO NOT DISTURB sign on his door so I went down to breakfast alone. The fruit and hot cereal bar was just as good as the day before. I gave myself a longer time to enjoy the fresh pineapple and strawberries, followed by the oatmeal with maple syrup, raisins, and cranberries. The coffee at the Boston Marriott is terrific. I hadn't had such a good cup in a long time.
Fans started drifting in. The people running the convention remained cheerful, kind, and helpful for the entire weekend, by the way. In spite of consistent late starts on most events, they were good about accommodating to the fans and ensuring that everybody had a good time.
After I left breakfast I saw a suitably long registration line. But people were moving through it quickly. We still had a few minutes until the dealer's room opened, so I just wandered for a bit.
You do get all kinds at a sci-fi convention, and I tried not to stare at the people in costume, the kids dressed goth style with black lipstick, and the overweight, middle-aged people dressed like teenagers.
I ran the shirt back up to my room. When I got back, Kevin was setting up the table (which meant he pulled back the drape from the newsletters and fanzines and set up the money box). He presented me with a couple of buttons of Sarah Jane and the Third Doctor. Then we settled down to work, but business was slow. However we worked out a system of marking off inventory as we sold things, and I would straighten out the bills after each sale. And there was certainly plenty of local color.
You do see all kinds at a sci-fi convention, and I am one of them, so I ought not point fingers too much. But the corker was a a fat, bald, middle-aged guy, wearing black platform shoes that laced up his shins, a black mini-skirt, black netting over a black leather corset (laced up so tightly it made his chest look like female breasts), with devil horns sprouting from the top of his forehead, and a silver prong coming up from the center of his head. He entered as naturally as though he were wearing jeans. I clutched Kevin's arm and almost climbed into his lap when I saw this guy.
Fortunately, the guy moved quickly. Unfortunately, he was also wearing a thong, and his mini-skirt was so low you could see the thong in his butt-crack.
Kevin has an incredibly deep voice, and he prefers to use a monotone. As the guy went past us, Kevin caught sight of the thong and slowly said in his dead pan, non-inflected way, "Now that's an image I wish I hadn't seen."
I was certain the guy was violating some decency law or other. But even though a lot of people snickered outright as he went by and a few shot knowing looks back and forth, he was not accosted or harassed.
Terry Molloy gave a great discussion: organized, clear, enthusiastic, and packed with information. He explained a lot of the technical methods at work in any story that includes Davros. He also filled us in on the backstage high-jinks and mishaps that he's experienced. He was charismatic and professional. In fact, by the end of the weekend, I came away deeply impressed by his vast experience (of which Davros is actually only a small part) and very high professionalism.
After her panel, Kevin and I went back to the table to sell. We took a break in the mid-afternoon to snatch up lunch in the hotel's pub---chicken strips for me while Kevin had fish and chips.
Then shortly before 5:00 I went back to the main room to line up for autographs. Marina Sirtis was still speaking, and I got there in time to hear her trash her co-stars from Star Trek and the Trek movie. I was shocked and disgusted, and so were the two guys who sat behind me. Some of the fans laughed right along with her, but as a person who has survived the gossip and character assassination of an abusive work place, I found it right on the edge of horrific. The one nice thing was that though she spoke well of nobody, it seemed from her side references that Patrick Stewart is a man of integrity and sterling professional behavior. Not that she respects this.
She went about five minutes over and then left. We were marshaled into the autograph line by badge number (in lots of about 20). I'd purchased a terrific color photo of Sarah Jane and the Third Doctor. They called for my section and I was ushered first through the door to join the line that formed up a long hallway where the celebs sat at tables on one side. As I bounded past one of the pillars I saw the end of the line. There was a hugely fat blue guy ahead of me. No kidding. All blue: his face, his hands, everything. He wore a white stocking cap. He looked hideous, and as he saw me bound forward, his face broke into a delighted grin of welcome. Oh no! Yes indeed, he really wanted to have a chat with me.
To my surprise, a big good-looking guy ambled right between us like he didn't know where he was going. He touched my shoulder and with one glance told me to let him handle this. The blue guy started to draw him into conversation, and the good-looking guy had to put his back to me to answer him. He said something I didn't catch. But then for some reason the blue guy nodded abruptly, smiled even more widely, and hurriedly moved forward. The handsome guy let him get a few paces ahead of us and then we followed.
"Thank you!" I exclaimed softly. And I glanced around him. "Thank you so much!"
He tapped my shoulder and pointed to his ears. "I am hearing impaired," he said in that airless voice of severely hearing impaired people. "I have to read your lips."
"Oh!" I exclaimed. I looked him full in the face. "Thank you," I said again.
Then I asked, without using my voice at all, as it didn't matter, "Why is he blue?"
"Smurf," he said, and a faint smile flickered across his face.
Great horny toads! Pappa Smurf, Mamma Smurf, and Godzilla Smurf. But that's what the blue guy was: white pants, blue shirt, blue skin, white cap---a smurf.
My rescuer pointed at my notebook, where I had intended to write in my journal as I stood in line. "Are you writing a story?" he asked.
"A web log," I told him. He wasn't familiar with the term, and I didn't pursue it. We chatted very amiably about small matters. Then I asked him if I could ask about his hearing loss, and he said yes. So I asked how he had learned to read lips so well. He told me that he had learned lip reading first, before sign language. And yes, he told me, he had been born severely hearing impaired. With hearing aids in place, (which he showed me), he had some slight hearing. Without them, he is totally deaf. He works a full time job for the post office.
We got to Lis Sladen next, and she remembered me from the party and greeted me warmly. My autograph friend liked all the sci-fi shows that were close-captioned, he told me. I noticed he especially liked the ones with pretty girls. But after we'd said goodbye and I thanked him again, I was really sobered. To be honest, he'd re-introduced me to the idea of living in silence and missing the majority of stories that are told or dramatized. They all hinge on sound. And fandom is also built on sound: audio adventures, guest panels, chatting, doing skits and parodies. And there are never any services for the hearing impaired at the cons.
Much to my annoyance, my eyes snapped open at 3:45 a.m. It wasn't excitement. United Fan Con East is my fifth convention. I am old and I like to sleep. But my body was having none of it. Whatever the reason, I was wide awake. I doggedly stayed in bed until about quarter to five; then I gave up and decided to write up some notes based on what Lis Sladen had said about Sarah Jane and what makes a good story.
This task actually got pretty interesting, and I figured out the ending for Death and Chocolate and jotted it down in note form. (Now all I have to do is write the middle!)
I showered and got into clothes for the day. Down the hall, Kevin had a DO NOT DISTURB sign on his door so I went down to breakfast alone. The fruit and hot cereal bar was just as good as the day before. I gave myself a longer time to enjoy the fresh pineapple and strawberries, followed by the oatmeal with maple syrup, raisins, and cranberries. The coffee at the Boston Marriott is terrific. I hadn't had such a good cup in a long time.
Fans started drifting in. The people running the convention remained cheerful, kind, and helpful for the entire weekend, by the way. In spite of consistent late starts on most events, they were good about accommodating to the fans and ensuring that everybody had a good time.
After I left breakfast I saw a suitably long registration line. But people were moving through it quickly. We still had a few minutes until the dealer's room opened, so I just wandered for a bit.
You do get all kinds at a sci-fi convention, and I tried not to stare at the people in costume, the kids dressed goth style with black lipstick, and the overweight, middle-aged people dressed like teenagers.
| The dealer's room, now well stocked with over flowing tables of merchandise, beckoned invitingly. As a dealer I could come and go as I liked, and the dealers sell to each other before the doors officially open. One lady had all kinds of new Dr. Who t-shirts, all with embroidered logos. They were a lot more tasteful than the usual kind, which are screen printed across the entire front of the t-shirt with collage-type images. I bought a red shirt with the diamond shaped logo in place where the shirt pocket would be. I also picked out another shirt that had the Seal of Rassilon as a logo. Down at the other end of the room, Gene (from Chicago TARDIS) had set up a table. I promised him I would buy something. I wanted a dalek for my desk at work. |  |
I ran the shirt back up to my room. When I got back, Kevin was setting up the table (which meant he pulled back the drape from the newsletters and fanzines and set up the money box). He presented me with a couple of buttons of Sarah Jane and the Third Doctor. Then we settled down to work, but business was slow. However we worked out a system of marking off inventory as we sold things, and I would straighten out the bills after each sale. And there was certainly plenty of local color.
 | One thing I saw that I really wanted was a cardboard stand-up of the Third Doctor at one of the fanclub tables. I had never seen one of him before. I ran over to Gene's table to ask Gene if he had one. Gene laughed and told me no, even though such standups of the Fourth Doctor (Tom Baker) can still be found, the Third Doctor stand-ups are extremely rare. Such an item would be worth a lot to a collector. Gene told me he had one in his own collection, but he would never sell it.
I hoped maybe the gentleman who owned this one would not be as possessive. I went to the table and told him about my website (Always the Third Doctor). I asked him if he would sell the stand-up to me, but he said no. I reconnoitered to Gene's table to see if I could get something worth trading for it. I went back to him and asked if he would trade it for a Fourth Doctor stand-up, but he said no. My wheeling and dealing was starting to annoy him, so I said okay and let it go. But I felt regret. |
You do see all kinds at a sci-fi convention, and I am one of them, so I ought not point fingers too much. But the corker was a a fat, bald, middle-aged guy, wearing black platform shoes that laced up his shins, a black mini-skirt, black netting over a black leather corset (laced up so tightly it made his chest look like female breasts), with devil horns sprouting from the top of his forehead, and a silver prong coming up from the center of his head. He entered as naturally as though he were wearing jeans. I clutched Kevin's arm and almost climbed into his lap when I saw this guy.
Fortunately, the guy moved quickly. Unfortunately, he was also wearing a thong, and his mini-skirt was so low you could see the thong in his butt-crack.
Kevin has an incredibly deep voice, and he prefers to use a monotone. As the guy went past us, Kevin caught sight of the thong and slowly said in his dead pan, non-inflected way, "Now that's an image I wish I hadn't seen."
I was certain the guy was violating some decency law or other. But even though a lot of people snickered outright as he went by and a few shot knowing looks back and forth, he was not accosted or harassed.
 | At 11:00 we closed down to go hear Terry Molloy in the main room. I had chatted with him the night before at the Insiders party, and he'd been engaging to talk to, though we had barely touched on Doctor Who. He's a pretty well known actor in the UK, performing radio work (which is far more abundant over there than here in the USA). But for Doctor Who fans, he is the third person to play the evil Davros, creator of the feared Daleks. Apparently, playing Davros is pretty intense, as the actor has to wear a full rubber mask and be encased in an enclosed "cab" from the waist down. The cab is supposed to be a mechanized, enclosed sort of wheelchair for Davros, but of course it is actually just a heavy, covered frame. It sits on rollers not visible to the television viewer, and the actor moves it forward on his toes. |
Terry Molloy gave a great discussion: organized, clear, enthusiastic, and packed with information. He explained a lot of the technical methods at work in any story that includes Davros. He also filled us in on the backstage high-jinks and mishaps that he's experienced. He was charismatic and professional. In fact, by the end of the weekend, I came away deeply impressed by his vast experience (of which Davros is actually only a small part) and very high professionalism.
| Next, Lis Sladen came on with her personal assistant, Andrew, who interviewed her. She took questions from the audience as well. She spoke articulately and thoughtfully. I can't say I heard anything I had not already read in the interviews of her (or heard in accounts of her from others). After all, I was helping Kevin run the Elisabeth Sladen Information Network table. We had 20 newsletters filled with information about her spread out before us.
She hasn't done a US con in over 10 years, so her session was mostly a catch up for fans who lost touch with her. Besides, I'd asked my questions of her the night before at the party. The fans were charmed with her (of course!). |  |
After her panel, Kevin and I went back to the table to sell. We took a break in the mid-afternoon to snatch up lunch in the hotel's pub---chicken strips for me while Kevin had fish and chips.
Then shortly before 5:00 I went back to the main room to line up for autographs. Marina Sirtis was still speaking, and I got there in time to hear her trash her co-stars from Star Trek and the Trek movie. I was shocked and disgusted, and so were the two guys who sat behind me. Some of the fans laughed right along with her, but as a person who has survived the gossip and character assassination of an abusive work place, I found it right on the edge of horrific. The one nice thing was that though she spoke well of nobody, it seemed from her side references that Patrick Stewart is a man of integrity and sterling professional behavior. Not that she respects this.
She went about five minutes over and then left. We were marshaled into the autograph line by badge number (in lots of about 20). I'd purchased a terrific color photo of Sarah Jane and the Third Doctor. They called for my section and I was ushered first through the door to join the line that formed up a long hallway where the celebs sat at tables on one side. As I bounded past one of the pillars I saw the end of the line. There was a hugely fat blue guy ahead of me. No kidding. All blue: his face, his hands, everything. He wore a white stocking cap. He looked hideous, and as he saw me bound forward, his face broke into a delighted grin of welcome. Oh no! Yes indeed, he really wanted to have a chat with me.
To my surprise, a big good-looking guy ambled right between us like he didn't know where he was going. He touched my shoulder and with one glance told me to let him handle this. The blue guy started to draw him into conversation, and the good-looking guy had to put his back to me to answer him. He said something I didn't catch. But then for some reason the blue guy nodded abruptly, smiled even more widely, and hurriedly moved forward. The handsome guy let him get a few paces ahead of us and then we followed.
"Thank you!" I exclaimed softly. And I glanced around him. "Thank you so much!"
He tapped my shoulder and pointed to his ears. "I am hearing impaired," he said in that airless voice of severely hearing impaired people. "I have to read your lips."
"Oh!" I exclaimed. I looked him full in the face. "Thank you," I said again.
Then I asked, without using my voice at all, as it didn't matter, "Why is he blue?"
"Smurf," he said, and a faint smile flickered across his face.
Great horny toads! Pappa Smurf, Mamma Smurf, and Godzilla Smurf. But that's what the blue guy was: white pants, blue shirt, blue skin, white cap---a smurf.
My rescuer pointed at my notebook, where I had intended to write in my journal as I stood in line. "Are you writing a story?" he asked.
"A web log," I told him. He wasn't familiar with the term, and I didn't pursue it. We chatted very amiably about small matters. Then I asked him if I could ask about his hearing loss, and he said yes. So I asked how he had learned to read lips so well. He told me that he had learned lip reading first, before sign language. And yes, he told me, he had been born severely hearing impaired. With hearing aids in place, (which he showed me), he had some slight hearing. Without them, he is totally deaf. He works a full time job for the post office.
 | Regrettably, Doctor Who is not close captioned in the USA, so he had never watched it. I thought this a truly tragic loss. By then we had gotten up to Terry Molloy, and Terry actually signed a few words to him and told him that the series is close captioned in Britain but not here in the USA. My respect for him went up another notch. (After the autograph session, in fact, I went to Terry's table and bought a CD of the audio adventure DAVROS from him. I also had our picture taken together.) |
We got to Lis Sladen next, and she remembered me from the party and greeted me warmly. My autograph friend liked all the sci-fi shows that were close-captioned, he told me. I noticed he especially liked the ones with pretty girls. But after we'd said goodbye and I thanked him again, I was really sobered. To be honest, he'd re-introduced me to the idea of living in silence and missing the majority of stories that are told or dramatized. They all hinge on sound. And fandom is also built on sound: audio adventures, guest panels, chatting, doing skits and parodies. And there are never any services for the hearing impaired at the cons.
| I had to hurry back to Kevin. Sales at the table had been minimal, but we did some business, especially around autograph time, as we had a few pictures of Lis to sell, smaller ones, for the most part. We had a good time together. Kevin told me I talk to everybody. First I thought he was teasing me, but he told me he thought he got too caught up in where he was going or what he was doing. So I realized it was a compliment. I like those a lot. I started a running joke about the two of us being the Table Lord and his companion. We got along very well and I really had a better time at the convention by having a good con buddy. |  |
