Yesterday I went from wings and chiffon and a line for the breakfast buffet that was 1400 people long, to a dinner table for 1400 with matzo and wine and references to oppression and an obligation to recline and relax and celebrate. As I was sitting at the longest damn table I’ve ever seen, it occurred to me – seder is one hell of an effort for my inlaws, and that effort is one reason why I left RT early and rushed home to then travel upstate for Passover dinner. That effort, and my acknowledging that effort, is important, and worth – almost – missing the opportunity to have Fabio graze MY left boob (scroll down on the right).
The same can be said of RT. A convention of that size is definitely the results of many, many sleepless hours on the part of the convention staff, from the people who stuffed bags at the last minute to those who opened the doors a bit early so people who were disabled could find a seat nearer to the doors. Someone was hanging that purple sparkly fabric all over the room, and the person who took that effort made the entire venue seem more special, and I noticed that effort. I’m sure other convention attendees noticed too – just like they noticed the ceiling decorations and light effects at the underwater faery ball, the table-scape decorations at the Vampire ball that would have made Sandra Lee proud, and the combined glitz and ongepotchket that communicated one thing: there is no one guest of honor. It’s not a bat mitzvah, or a wedding, or a quince-gone-wild. All this crazy is for each and every one of the folks dressing up and gettin’ down. That’s a lot of effort to make 1500 romance readers feel special.
While I didn’t entirely get on board with each and every moment of the RT wings-and-teeth-o-rama, the effort that went into the convention deserves acknowledgment, just like my mother in law setting a table for 25. So to all the convention staff who didn’t sleep much this week: thank you.