Ellen writes...

GATHERING JOURNAL, PART TWO

SATURDAY

Those responsibilities asserted themselves a few short hours later, when I got in touch with Spacebabie and Christine, my 10AM panelmates. Christine had family obligations, but Spacebabie was able to join me for breakfast downstairs at 9. We discussed topics we expected to cover during the panel, and a great deal more.

Our panel seemed to keep moving all right, considering that the majority of us in that room had stayed up way past our bedtimes the night before with the Boss and everyone else in the con suite. It was a huge help, of course, to have a con panel veteran such as Christine there. Most importantly, though, the people in attendance seemed to enjoy it. We were up against some stiff competition with the radio play auditions, and I for one am grateful to each person in attendance for helping to make our panel a success.

From there I wandered into the dealer/art room and did my level best to fill in the art ballot as thoroughly as possible. (Who am I kidding? Half the time, I was only guessing while I voted. All of the work was awesome.) I then headed to the live auction. I stayed for almost all of the proceedings, enjoying the fabulous floor show that the auctioneers -- Marc and Rob, were they? -- were putting on. They were witty, smart, and persuasive -- I was all the more willing to bid as a result of their efforts.

Also, during the live auction, I had an opportunity to introduce myself to Karine. And I'm setting this off in its own paragraph for a reason. Folks, I have been pregnant myself. I have been *six months* pregnant myself (as was she at this point). You can ask my husband how much fun I was to be around during that time -- preferably in my absence, if you desire an honest answer. Hauling a small sack of cement around on your front ain't all that comfortable, and it can be very, VERY tiring. Nevertheless, through it all, Karine was unfailingly hardworking, cheerful, attentive, and indefatigable. I found it almost frightening. Whatever kudos, whatever glamour, whatever reward this woman receives from her work on Gathering 2004, no matter how great, will still fall far short. She is superhuman, and we mere mortals are all the richer for it.

From the auction I wandered back out to the mezzanine, where I encountered Kathy and Carol Wagner. They encouraged me to go downstairs and talk to the Disney film crew. I was glad I went when I did, because I was able to listen in on Dylan and Stormy's eloquent testimony to the greatness of this series we all know and love. They did the series proud, and I'm looking forward to seeing how much of their can't-miss presentation ends up on the DVD.

On the other hand, this also meant that my own little ramblings had to follow in the wake of their verbal luster. Oh well. My interview was essentially a pleasant chat with David, which is what it should have been. Whether or not I gave him and his crew anything they could use is another matter. If and when I go to the cutting room floor, I'll go happily, knowing that I did my best and, above all, made yet another friendly acquaintance amid the populace of these Gatherings.

I decided that this year I mustn't miss the radio play, and I was glad I went. The players, all cast-of-thousands of them, were individually and collectively brilliant. They put their hearts into every line, and the synergy between them and narrator/director Greg was almost palpable.

Following the radio play, I decided that a little bit of quiet time was in order. Unlike last year, I didn't actually fall asleep (fortunately). I rested comfortably instead, contentedly watching the Yankees-Blue Jays game and the periodic updates of Greg Maddux's ultimately successful bid for his 300th win (life is good). I kept an eye on the clock, and rousted myself when it was time to dress for dinner.

I arrived at the banquet slightly late, but found a place at a table with Kelly, Leo, Alex, and James Anatidae, with whom I was particularly pleased to converse, considering that I hadn't been able to spend time with him otherwise. The food was very good, too.

And then Keith David arrived. How could I do anything but give this gentleman a standing ovation?

(Memo to self: If 30-year high school reunion next year features a karaoke system, make sure no guests of honor are trying to speak in the ballroom next door.)

I said above (and on previous occasions) that I could sit and listen to Greg Weisman talk for hours. Same with Keith David. The gentleman loves to tell stories, and tells them with every inch of his body and every shade of expression in his face. And what a joy it is to watch and listen.

I stayed for the masquerade and cosplay, and was very impressed. Some serious work and talent went into those costumes, and it showed. Loupy/Korul and Becca both were too cute for words. And Flanker, you were drop-dead elegant. I might have to write your Hunter into one of my stories.

I was dismayed to know that I'd miss Allaine singing karaoke if I headed up to the bar for a little quiet time with a few of my other pals, but I was again craving uninterrupted conversation. So off I went with Dylan, Leo, Kelly, Alex, Mercedes, Andrew...

And, well, whaddya know? In walks Mr. David. He sits on our side of the bar and begins chatting amiably with the bartender. I pointed him out to my companions, and Dylan knew exactly what to do. He got up immediately, his hand fishing in his pocket for his wallet, and paid for the maestro's drink. Since Dylan had missed out on the banquet and the subsequent Q&A session, I decided that he deserved a little one-on-one time with Mr. David, and abandoned my urging that he persuade him to join the rest of us. After a while, though, I decided to horn in on the conversation anyway, if only for a minute or two. I went up to them, introduced myself to Mr. David, and chatted for a bit. Our talk touched upon the funeral profession at one point, giving me the opportunity to entertain Mr. David with a brief and thoroughly silly anecdote involving the friend with whom my husband and I would be having dinner several nights later. I'm proud to say that I made the maestro throw his head back and let out a laugh that would have filled the interior of Notre Dame de Paris.

Not long after that, the bar closed, Mr. David retired for the night, and the rest of us meandered back downstairs to check out the proceedings, such as they were at that point.

It was then that I found the opportunity to thank the Boss for dropping that link on Station 8 to his brother's outstanding baseball blog site, Dodger Thoughts. Then, with tongue planted firmly in cheek, I proceeded to bawl him out in the same breath for giving the name of such a nice guy (viz., his brother) to such a shit-heel (viz., Jon Canmore/John Castaway) in his Gargoyles universe. Hey, it had to be said. ;) I also mentioned how impressed I was that his father was in attendance at the last Cubs World Series (and not as a Tigers fan, either). Let it be said, however, that I chose to avoid *real* controversy, and refrained from bringing up the recent Paul Lo Duca trade.

By the way, Jennifer Anderson has a *beautiful* singing voice.

As things wound down in the ballroom, Kathy, Alex Garg, and Dylan agreed to accompany me to my room for a nightcap. Our conversation ran until 4, at which point I announced that I was on the verge of physical collapse, a sentiment readily seconded by my comrades. We said our good nights and got a few hours of shut-eye.

(To be concluded.)