Spent much of the weekend downtown, battling the crowds. Rockies games both Saturday and Sunday; Denver Chalk Art Festival both Saturday and Sunday (which was very awesome, if the pieces we actually got close enough to see were any indication of the show as a whole–I totally want to do this next year); some sort of race on Saturday morning that no one seemed to be in any hurry to finish but that closed off lots of downtown streets anyway; a farmer’s market; some other Sunday festival that had Colfax closed off and required us to take a detour; and, of course, Denver Comic Con.
Warren had one more panel today (topic: the future of space opera) with the lovely and talented Betsy Dornbusch, et al, so I did get in to walk the exhibit floor for about thirty minutes beforehand. Which was more than enough to catch the drift of the DCC experience. And I do mean “drift.” By Sunday night, cons begin to smell a bit like upset stomachs and unwashed hair. People are tired. Their costumes are droopy. Their body paint is rubbing off. It’s time to go home.
Highlights of the weekend included (a) lunch at the Rio with Warren, Mario Acevedo, Bonnie Biafore, Jason Heller, Daniel Abraham, and Jesse Bullington–accomplished writers all, (b) getting lots of my own writing done, and (c) walking right past Wil Wheaton at 17th and Blake. (What were he and his entourage doing over there after dark anyway? Jax? McCormick’s? Curious.)
Now, I’m not a trekkie. Never have been. So the Wil Wheaton of my childhood is this guy:
But I love that he’s become a beacon for the Geek and Proud Crowd and that he seemed to be enjoying Denver. At least, he looked like he was enjoying Denver. The day he flew in, he had this to say:
And then he linked to this. Which is awesome. I live here, and I didn’t know this stuff.