![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thatcrazycajunDrove out straight from work today downtown to pick up my membership in this year's Dragon*Con, after a quick dash into a Subway restaurant to grab a $5-off discount coupon. (Hey, every little bit helps; the full-ride price went up $20 this year to $90 and I can't sing my way in for free this time like I did last year—thanks, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
filkertom!) Figured it would be relatively easy and quick, as it has been every year since I found out registration actually opens the night before.
Unfortunately, it seems word has gotten around. As I arrived, the line into the registration cattleyard stretched out the door. And around the corner. And around another corner, all the way to the front entrance of the hotel. That's right, halfway round an entire city block.
I knew there would be people in droves—D*C attracts enough members yearly at this time to make Leslie Fish write a song about it, on the order of 20,000 to 30,000—but this beggared my imagination (which is pretty hard, as I have a very vivid and inventive one). Determined that nothing would stop me from enjoying the first real con I've been to this year since GAFilk in January (I'm not counting the one day I spent at TimeGate in May), I resigned myself to waiting an hour or more and got in at the back. Happily, the line moved fairly quickly and everyone was in reasonably good spirits.
About 15 minutes or so in and halfway to the last corner before the gate, a big, bearded man wearing staff tags bellowed that anyone buying a membership on-site ("at the door," as we called it in my day) or who got theirs through TicketBastards could bypass the line and go on in. To the rest he said, "Congratulations, you saved fifty bucks." Suddenly I was glad I'd waited until the last minute; faced with a choice of saving time or money, I decided to save time. After all, money can be replaced.
Racing past the hordes to the Baker Street entrance, I followed the lucky few into the basement area and the serpentines wherein I filled out a slip with my vital info, then in what seemed like hardly any time I was paid for, processed and out with my shiny new four-day con badge.
Programming doesn't begin in earnest until tomorrow afternoon, but there are a couple of con bands slated to play a pre-con concert in one of the big ballrooms tonight. In fact, they should be starting about now. Anyone wishing to hook up with me while here can dial my cell, seven seven zero eight six one three zero four one. Or Skype me at CajunGypsy if you have a laptop handy.
filkertom!) Figured it would be relatively easy and quick, as it has been every year since I found out registration actually opens the night before.Unfortunately, it seems word has gotten around. As I arrived, the line into the registration cattleyard stretched out the door. And around the corner. And around another corner, all the way to the front entrance of the hotel. That's right, halfway round an entire city block.
I knew there would be people in droves—D*C attracts enough members yearly at this time to make Leslie Fish write a song about it, on the order of 20,000 to 30,000—but this beggared my imagination (which is pretty hard, as I have a very vivid and inventive one). Determined that nothing would stop me from enjoying the first real con I've been to this year since GAFilk in January (I'm not counting the one day I spent at TimeGate in May), I resigned myself to waiting an hour or more and got in at the back. Happily, the line moved fairly quickly and everyone was in reasonably good spirits.
About 15 minutes or so in and halfway to the last corner before the gate, a big, bearded man wearing staff tags bellowed that anyone buying a membership on-site ("at the door," as we called it in my day) or who got theirs through TicketBastards could bypass the line and go on in. To the rest he said, "Congratulations, you saved fifty bucks." Suddenly I was glad I'd waited until the last minute; faced with a choice of saving time or money, I decided to save time. After all, money can be replaced.
Racing past the hordes to the Baker Street entrance, I followed the lucky few into the basement area and the serpentines wherein I filled out a slip with my vital info, then in what seemed like hardly any time I was paid for, processed and out with my shiny new four-day con badge.
Programming doesn't begin in earnest until tomorrow afternoon, but there are a couple of con bands slated to play a pre-con concert in one of the big ballrooms tonight. In fact, they should be starting about now. Anyone wishing to hook up with me while here can dial my cell, seven seven zero eight six one three zero four one. Or Skype me at CajunGypsy if you have a laptop handy.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-08-29 12:43 am (UTC)Registration lines got so bad for a while that now we have filkers scheduled for hall concerts to keep the waiting people amused.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-29 12:16 pm (UTC)And the actual number isn't 20-30,000; it's closer to 60,000.