Still A Little Too Soon

Dearest Rachel –

it’s funny how things work out sometimes. When I wrote to you earlier this morning, I was already concerned that I would not be there when I was told that the registration booth for sponsors would be opening up. In fact, I was late by well over an hour. And yet, when I got there, the metal ceiling roll was still down, while a handful of other sponsors were sitting there, waiting for the booth to open up.

At first, the conversation was about a few various anime titles, most of which neither of us would have been familiar with, and several others (like one guy who was looking into watching all of the original Dragonball – not Z, not GT, not Kai, not Super, the original series that came out when we were in college, and even a little before, in your case) that never piqued our interest. But somewhere along the line, the topic turned to Doctor Who, and the fact that the newest Doctor had been announced. As with all of the previous ones, it wasn’t a name I’d be familiar with, and I doubt you would be, either. Apparently, he’s a Rwandan national who’s made his home in Blighty as an actor, and with a smoothly shaved head, could probably carry off a Samuel L. Jackson vibe if he wanted to. I’ll be honest, apart from the issue of having to keep his language clean, that could prove to be a cool concept for the Doctor to be like – and I said as much.

Somehow, that shifted the topic over to another old TV series we used to enjoy so much – M*A*S*H. Apparently, Mister Jackson once had a bit part in the show, although it wasn’t clear to me whether he had any lines. Considering all the young actors that cycled through that show as wounded soldiers (and buddies of the same), it wouldn’t surprise me. You would have enjoyed participating in the discussion, I’m sure – and more than held your own.

It kept things interesting until the same girl who’d occupied the booth yesterday showed up, unlocked the door to the cloak room, and rolled up the metal curtain nearly another hour after I’d arrived – and slightly more than two hours after I was told (by her!) that they would be opening up.

If I didn’t know better – and had actually been on time, and sitting there the whole time – I would have thought I had been pranked. As it was, it wasn’t as if there was anything else to do, or anywhere else to go.

And as it happens, there still isn’t, not until well after noon. The opening ceremonies won’t take place until 1:30, and the dealers’ room (okay, okay… the Marketplace, whatever…) doesn’t open until 3, even for sponsors. And it’s not like I’m looking for anyone to hang out with, since, as I mentioned, none of the old team of writers is expected to show up.

Really, the only thing for me to do right now is to head back to the hotel and unload the swag bag of the stuff I really don’t need to be carrying.

Which pretty much amounts to everything here, apart from the program guide in the lower right corner. Granted, none of this is excessively heavy or awkward (although there are certain places I probably shouldn’t be carrying foodstuffs around in – and the chocolate bread is likely to get squashed at some point if I’m not careful), but most of it is just unnecessary.

I keep forgetting how much downtime we had back at the old conventions. You would always insist on spending some time each day at the pool – and I didn’t mind joining you, since a.) we were together, and b.) when we got back to the room, there were, ah, other things to do. We missed a fair amount of the convention activities, but it never really felt like we actually missed much. In a way, it’s not unlike the old complaint about cable television, where one has 500 channels to pick from, and nothing truly worth watching – which, admittedly, seems overly harsh, particularly when the overall topic at hand, anime, is by definition of some interest to us. At the same time, even at a convention like this one, there are only five channels of programming and four rooms airing video, so… yeah, sometimes there isn’t anything all that interesting.

Which leaves me wondering what to do in the meantime, while I wait for something to come up that I’ve determined to go to, especially since it’s such a commitment to decide to be either at the hotel or the convention center. If I choose to go to one, I need to prepare to stay there for a while, since it’s a bit of a trip to change my mind. It’s easy for now, since nothing is happening at all, but pretty soon, we’re about to change gears.

With that in mind, if you could wish a little luck and a little wisdom my way, I’d appreciate it. I’ll keep in touch, honey.

Published by randy@letters-to-rachel.memorial

I am Rachel's husband. Was. I'm still trying to deal with it. I probably always will be.

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