After my utter, complete failure, I can only, if you will allow it, provide you a few high points:
Hung out with and thoroughly reinforced the fast friendships I have made these last few years, most notably the As-Yet-Unpublished Gentlemen: Alistair Kimble, Rob Hicks. AYUG will be a short-lived organization, I pray.
Tim Akers also made himself readily available to both abuse and amuse me.
Hung out repeatedly and well with Peter V Brett, Lauren Cannon, Jay Franco, and Nancy Lambert, whom I have decided, in my laziness, to dub The Easties. I would call them New Yorkers, but that damn, insanely talented Cannon is from Jersey. That, and they are all far too nice to be truly from New York. I think I might have to check IDs the next time.
As previously mentioned, I drank more than my share on the pub crawl, though I am still amazed at J&J's stamina.
Chatted for so long with Pat Rothfuss we made him late to his next thing. I have no regret of it.
Had a great time telling stories in the hall (or is more properly called a porch?) to Brent Weeks, Myke Cole, and Peter Orullian as well as other fine writers, editors and publishers whose names I forget (I can only hope they will be able to squeegie some portion of the more foul things free from their minds).
Attended some good panels: the sea battle one with Myke Cole being the one I found most interesting.
I attended and assisted in the founding of the Brothers of Flatulism, something I am confident will become a bright star in the firmament of bullshit Holy Orders for future cons. Jim Minz, Rob Hicks, myself, and Alistair form the First Brothers. Others are sure to follow. I am not sure, but there might be a Brother Dribble whose actual name I failed to get. Bearded fellow, with a brown cassock that used to be white. Chants of I think I can, I think I can, were frequently heard before security descended upon us to end our rites.
Made up the Title that would best suit a particular piece of art if it were to be used for a novel from 'Unclasped' to 'Ready Playa One'.
I also hung out with and disturbed Bill Schafer's peace of mind again, but this time he had with him Yanni, who's scathing glances were almost enough to cow me to near-silence. Almost. I, too bore witness to the badge fascist she complained of.
David Drake and Karen Zimmerman were also present, gracious, and fun.
Ticia Isom, Jeni Faries, and Mark Van Name were, as always, fun, though Mark was suffering from a savage sinus infection for most of the con that would have had me whining constantly, but just made him more taciturn than usual.
Chuck Gannon and I chatted at length, and I came away feeling smarter, as I always seem to when I have opportunity to pick his brain.
I furnished the winning bid for two of Lauren Cannon's pieces. They are awesome, as she is.
Sam Sykes and I had more than a few fun words between us.
I also got to hang with a few of my UFGirlz, Sara McClung and Caroline Valdez-Miller. Karen Hooper was, sadly, not among them.
I managed not to make the noise I was making far to frequently last year. Instead there were many mentions of 'Butter Pat' and 'FINISH HIM!
The best thing about this year, though, was that twice, while feeling down about things, my friends buoyed me, lifted my spirits, and encouraged me.
In short, they were there for me.
Good stuff, that.