So we went to the 'con -- wandered into the huckster room five minutes early and got chased right back out, despite my reflexive mutter of, "...Press...."
Withal, early arrival is still early five minutes later -- and not in the vanguard.
There was a remarkably well-stocked bookseller (all new) at the back of the hall, and Indy's own The Starship Cat, with T-shirts and a wide array of used books (and et very c, from japonaiserie to all-composite tactikewt knives just like the CIA doesn't use) about half-way down. (If you hunt obscure SF titles on Amazon and buy used, you may have bought from them). The new-books guy had pre-release copies of Charles Stross's latest "Laundry Files" book, The Annihilation Score, which I could not pass up. It appears that Baen has reissued the A. Bertram Chandler "John Grimes" novels in a set of fat paperbacks, too, which is at the top of my list; I picked the originals up catch-as-can and missed a few.* The other item I had to buy on the spot was a collection of Terry Pratchett's short fiction -- there's another of his non-fiction I may purchase yet.
Did not see Musical GoH Marian Call, but she had a table set up in the huckster's room with an Hermes portable typewriter at the center -- Instant poetry? Lyrics on demand? I dunno but trust a musician to have chosen an excellent instrument.
The pleasant and prolific Tim Zahn was set up right inside the door; he was a bit busy stringing up signs and making nice with fans.
Didn't attend any fora; there were a couple of some interest to me but neither Tam nor I had eaten more than toast and coffee all day and my back/shoulder were starting to trouble me. Headed home by way of Indy Tacos, which turns out to be straight-up good Mexican-ish fast food, tacos with a nice variety of fillings, burritos and the like, in a clean, no-frills setting. They get rave reviews -- and with good reason.
I do get stressed in social situations, especially in places and around people with which and with whom I am not familiar: I was in bed by seven and slept for thirteen and a half hours.
* The series started out emulating C. S. Forester's "Horatio Hornblower" books but became very much his own thing. Chandler was better-qualified to describe life aboard a starship than many SF writers: he was a merchant marine captain, mostly on Australian vessels.
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