Now we’re at one of my favorite parts of a science fiction convention, i.e., introverting the fuck out in my hotel room now that it’s over.

Snacks aplenty? What's on the tele?

Big feels!

Almost completely gaffiated these days, but in the 90's corrupted some pretty good Lil" Bobby Zimmerman lyrics with "Knockin' on Monday's Door".

I mean... we love your books... but there's a reason why so many of us identify with your online presence. That's an eminently familiar experience although for many of us we wouldn't have lasted the whole con. Enjoy!

Don’t forget to bake your luggage when you get home.

There ain't no party like one happening elsewhere, out of earshot, on the other side of at least five doors.

100% relatable.

Let the ritual burrito sacrifice eating commence.

I got home (I live about 40 miles from Boston) and just passed out.

Also one of my favorite parts of an academic convention.