I love flying. I know that's not a majority opinion these days, what with the ever-increasing ticket prices, ridiculously nitpicky rules for fares, baggage, and security, and overbooked, delayed flights, but I still love it. I love getting to the gate (I'm going to skip everything before that, as I do NOT love check-in lines and security screenings; they're simply mostly-necessary evils) and settling into a little spot where I can keep an eye on my luggage and curl up with my book and maybe a cup of coffee. (Speaking of watching my luggage, who on earth came up with the baggage-security questions? "Have your bags been out of your control at any time since you packed them?" The woman in line ahead of me actually paused to think about this one once, and I wanted to slap her. The answer to this question is ALWAYS irrelevant. If it's no, you're going to say no. If it's yes, you're still going to say no, because either you have something illegal in your bag you don't want the authorities to know about, or you just happened to let your bags out of sight for a bit but you still intend to get on your flight, which might not happen if you say yes. Only idiots and children would say yes, and they shouldn't be flying alone anyway! The question is a waste of everyone's time.)
So I find my spot and camp out for an hour or more (I'm always early; I don't understand how it's possible to miss a non-connecting flight, barring emergency. Plan ahead. Don't be late. It's not hard. Except for some people it is, I guess. Oh, well. I don't understand that either.), reading, listening to music, making a couple of phone calls. I don't like to fly with my laptop - besides being bulky and a security hassle, it's the second-most expensive thing I own, and if I'm staying with friends I can always use their computers to check email - so this is pure unstructured time where I can do almost nothing productive. I can't blog or sew or research or clean or any of the other things I need to do. I can write, and sometimes I do, but since I don't bring along the unfinished projects that live on my computer, all I can work on are short, stand-alone pieces that happen to inspire me at the moment. Waiting for my plane to board is the true beginning of my vacation. (I've never traveled on business, so my perspective may be more positive than otherwise.)
Then, the actual plane ride. Boarding sucks, of course - screaming children and overpacked travelers hogging the overhead bins and those few people who invariably manage to misread their seat numbers. And then there's the droning safety lecture and interminable wait on the tarmac. Then takeoff, which is the only part that scares me. I close my eyes and chew my gum and mentally recite all the physics equations I can remember to prove to myself that this giant metal tube actually has good reasons for remaining aloft. But once we're in the air, it's like a road trip when someone else is driving: I turn up the music, snuggle into my seat (I candidly admit that being 5'2" enhances the experience of flying coach - on most airlines, I can actually curl up in my seat, especially if I have the window), open my book, and after a few minutes drift off to sleep. I'm usually woken at some point by turbulence, but as long as it's not the bounce-your-head-on-the-ceiling variety I think it's kind of fun. It feels like a roller coaster to me. Then back to sleep, or more reading until we join the landing pattern.
Landing is my favorite part. I love the ever-steeper, slower circles when you can see the city approaching below, then the bounce and catch feeling as you actually land. And then, taxiing to the terminal, I'm excited - either because I've reached my vacation destination, or because I'm home, and someone is waiting for me. Then there's multiple periods of waiting - to deplane, for baggage to reach the carousel, etc., and then I'm there, stepping out of an airport into a place with the wrong time of day and the wrong weather, and it's wonderful. Flight over.
I love flying, too, because it makes me feel important and cosmopolitan. I know that's not really the case - anyone can fly, and they do - and I know too that flying has lost a lot of its romance since the days when dress codes were strictly enforced and airplanes had onboard lounges. But I still love getting into that metal tube, speeding through the clouds, and disembarking somewhere else entirely.
So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go
'Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane
Don't know when I'll be back again
Oh babe I hate to go...
I grew up with that song by Peter, Paul, and Mary (John Denver originally, I know), but I have to admit when it gets stuck in my head - as it always does when I'm flying somewhere - the version I see is the guys from Armageddon, Ben Affleck and Michael Clarke Duncan and Steve Buscemi, singing it to Liv Tyler who's laughing through her tears. And while I don't have time today to defend that movie, I do love that scene, and I'm not sorry it's playing in my head today. It's certainly better than the last movie clip that got stuck in my head, which happened to be the ad for Hamlet 2 ("rock me, rock me, rock me sexy Jesus").
So kiss me and smile for me; while nobody likes goodbyes, know that I don't really hate to go.
SemiGeekGirl will return Wednesday, September 3. Or possibly later if she needs to recover from her vacation.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
SemiGeekGirl's Guide to Fall TV
A brief and by no means objective look at the dreck the networks are trying to pass off as "must-see TV" this year.
I'm spending Labor Day weekend on the East Coast, so you're lucky this is not simply a laundry list of all the things I need to accomplish before my flight leaves tomorrow night. Although I will take a moment to ponder where exactly the term "laundry list" came from. Did anyone, ever, actually have to make a list of the things they needed to launder? Could they not remember by looking at them, smelling them, or just picking up the laundry basket? Granted, not everyone has laundry baskets, and some things are easy to forget to wash (they're sheets. They live on the bed. Who remembers that they should be removed just because? Also, this is why I am not in charge of the laundry at my house), so I can see having "wash towels" or "do laundry" on your to-do list. But a laundry list? Really? Who has time to individually list each garment to be washed? And if you're just listing the types of laundry, are there really enough to forget? As in wash lights, darks, whites, and reds? Maybe if you have Alzheimer's. Which is, of course, a debilitating and particularly unhumorous condition. But also almost certainly not the source of the phrase.
Anyhow, I can't finish packing until my unlisted laundry finishes drying, so Fall TV it is. Sadly, this will be brief, as nowadays I use my television mainly as a radio - on in the background for friendly noise - or a screen for the DVD player. By the end of last season, the only show I watched faithfully in its proper timeslot was Top Chef, and that only because I wanted to talk about it with my mom the next day. I know that last season isn't quite representative, what with the (completely justified) writer's strike. But the season before wasn't much better. At this writing, there are no sitcoms I watch on a regular basis (except The Simpsons and South Park, but I'm not sure they count. I watch them almost exclusively in reruns anyway, so in terms of ratings they might as well be M*A*S*H). There are two hour-long dramas I follow religiously: Heroes and Battlestar Galactica (and if season 3 of Heroes isn't better than season 2, it will fall off my list), and three more dramedies I usually intend to watch but only remember about half the time. I also watch Top Chef, Project Runway, and occasionally So You Think You Can Dance and Dancing with the Stars (although I despise shows where America gets to vote. After we elected George W. Bush the SECOND time, my respect for the American electorate went from tentative to nonexistent. We, as a country, have proven that we are morons. I can only hope we start the long path back the other way this November).
So this fall I'm not looking forward to much. Battlestar Galactica doesn't return until January at least. I will watch the premiere of Heroes, but my hopes are only moderate. (Mostly I hope to see less of the Cheerleader.) I caught up with some of what I missed last season on House over the summer, and I'll be glad to see it return. I've also come to enjoy Bones in repeats, which was a pleasant surprise - David Boreanaz had worn out his welcome with me in the final season of Angel, so I didn't give this show a chance. That was a mistake. I'm happy to see Pushing Daisies return, and I'm interested to find out if Chuck and Reaper can stop seeming like fraternal twins (one sci-fi, one supernatural) and become distinct from each other. I'll give Sarah Connor Chronicles another chance. It didn't wow me the first time around, but the cast is excellent and the premise is solid, so I'll try it again.
And that's it for returning shows. The potential in the new shows is even thinner on the ground. I'm moderately enthused about Fringe, the new X-Files type thriller on Fox. (I'm glad to see Joshua Jackson working again, anyway.) The only drawback is that it's created by J.J. Abrams, the mastermind behind such masterpieces as Alias and Cloverfield. And Lost, which I've never enjoyed but will refrain from bashing here, since my boyfriend reads this blog. I'm also waiting impatiently for Dollhouse, the new drama from Joss Whedon, starring Faith from Buffy and Helo from Battlestar, but it doesn't premiere until midseason.
And I'm done. Oh, there a couple more moderately interesting shows, especially on NBC, which has a couple titled Crusoe (you can guess the premise) and Kings (a modern-day take on the life of King David, who was apparently quite the Biblical badass). But not much to look forward to. The rest of the lineup seems to consist of desperate pandering (the 90210 remake, anyone?), ideas that were kind of stupid the first time around (Knight Rider), and painfully unfunny comedies (check out the ads for Kath & Kim. Molly Shannon lost my sympathies long ago, but I can't help but cringe for poor Selma Blair, squeezed into neon and whining like a thirteen-year-old deprived of Twilight).
I was contemplating getting DVR, but at this point I'll be using it to avoid primetime, not to manage its conflicts.
I'm spending Labor Day weekend on the East Coast, so you're lucky this is not simply a laundry list of all the things I need to accomplish before my flight leaves tomorrow night. Although I will take a moment to ponder where exactly the term "laundry list" came from. Did anyone, ever, actually have to make a list of the things they needed to launder? Could they not remember by looking at them, smelling them, or just picking up the laundry basket? Granted, not everyone has laundry baskets, and some things are easy to forget to wash (they're sheets. They live on the bed. Who remembers that they should be removed just because? Also, this is why I am not in charge of the laundry at my house), so I can see having "wash towels" or "do laundry" on your to-do list. But a laundry list? Really? Who has time to individually list each garment to be washed? And if you're just listing the types of laundry, are there really enough to forget? As in wash lights, darks, whites, and reds? Maybe if you have Alzheimer's. Which is, of course, a debilitating and particularly unhumorous condition. But also almost certainly not the source of the phrase.
Anyhow, I can't finish packing until my unlisted laundry finishes drying, so Fall TV it is. Sadly, this will be brief, as nowadays I use my television mainly as a radio - on in the background for friendly noise - or a screen for the DVD player. By the end of last season, the only show I watched faithfully in its proper timeslot was Top Chef, and that only because I wanted to talk about it with my mom the next day. I know that last season isn't quite representative, what with the (completely justified) writer's strike. But the season before wasn't much better. At this writing, there are no sitcoms I watch on a regular basis (except The Simpsons and South Park, but I'm not sure they count. I watch them almost exclusively in reruns anyway, so in terms of ratings they might as well be M*A*S*H). There are two hour-long dramas I follow religiously: Heroes and Battlestar Galactica (and if season 3 of Heroes isn't better than season 2, it will fall off my list), and three more dramedies I usually intend to watch but only remember about half the time. I also watch Top Chef, Project Runway, and occasionally So You Think You Can Dance and Dancing with the Stars (although I despise shows where America gets to vote. After we elected George W. Bush the SECOND time, my respect for the American electorate went from tentative to nonexistent. We, as a country, have proven that we are morons. I can only hope we start the long path back the other way this November).
So this fall I'm not looking forward to much. Battlestar Galactica doesn't return until January at least. I will watch the premiere of Heroes, but my hopes are only moderate. (Mostly I hope to see less of the Cheerleader.) I caught up with some of what I missed last season on House over the summer, and I'll be glad to see it return. I've also come to enjoy Bones in repeats, which was a pleasant surprise - David Boreanaz had worn out his welcome with me in the final season of Angel, so I didn't give this show a chance. That was a mistake. I'm happy to see Pushing Daisies return, and I'm interested to find out if Chuck and Reaper can stop seeming like fraternal twins (one sci-fi, one supernatural) and become distinct from each other. I'll give Sarah Connor Chronicles another chance. It didn't wow me the first time around, but the cast is excellent and the premise is solid, so I'll try it again.
And that's it for returning shows. The potential in the new shows is even thinner on the ground. I'm moderately enthused about Fringe, the new X-Files type thriller on Fox. (I'm glad to see Joshua Jackson working again, anyway.) The only drawback is that it's created by J.J. Abrams, the mastermind behind such masterpieces as Alias and Cloverfield. And Lost, which I've never enjoyed but will refrain from bashing here, since my boyfriend reads this blog. I'm also waiting impatiently for Dollhouse, the new drama from Joss Whedon, starring Faith from Buffy and Helo from Battlestar, but it doesn't premiere until midseason.
And I'm done. Oh, there a couple more moderately interesting shows, especially on NBC, which has a couple titled Crusoe (you can guess the premise) and Kings (a modern-day take on the life of King David, who was apparently quite the Biblical badass). But not much to look forward to. The rest of the lineup seems to consist of desperate pandering (the 90210 remake, anyone?), ideas that were kind of stupid the first time around (Knight Rider), and painfully unfunny comedies (check out the ads for Kath & Kim. Molly Shannon lost my sympathies long ago, but I can't help but cringe for poor Selma Blair, squeezed into neon and whining like a thirteen-year-old deprived of Twilight).
I was contemplating getting DVR, but at this point I'll be using it to avoid primetime, not to manage its conflicts.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Slightly backward...
Help Wanted:
Seeking a project-based, fast-paced, preferably creative work environment with a variety of tasks. Workplace must be well-organized with an abundance of natural light.
Duties may include, but are not limited to, writing both internal and external communications, assisting with marketing and promotional material, running errands, organizing vendors, keeping track of disparate project-related tasks, internet and physical research, script coverage, taking notes at meetings, and occasional creative input. Filing, data entry, and answering phones should be kept to a minimum. Positions in the accounting and retail fields need not inquire.
Position must be full-time with basic health and vacation benefits. Salary may be dependent on experience but should include the possiblity of increases over time and for excellence in performance of job duties. Special consideration will be awarded to positions related to costuming, science fiction, fantasy, or Aaron Sorkin.
Poster has a Bachelor of Science in Chemistry and experience in retail, accounting, and script coverage; she also possesses years of experience in an office environment and the ability to roll calls. Poster has experience working with highly confidential information and is discreet, loyal, and resourceful. She is a motivated self-starter who enjoys working with others on larger projects while reserving some tasks as hers alone, and always adheres to both hard and soft deadlines.The employer that succeeds in acquiring the poster shall receive a hard-working, smart, and articulate employee willing to go above and beyond to contribute to a great working environment and a fulfilling, exceptional product or service.
Interested parties may email: semigeekgirl@gmail.com
Well, it's worth a try, right?
Seeking a project-based, fast-paced, preferably creative work environment with a variety of tasks. Workplace must be well-organized with an abundance of natural light.
Duties may include, but are not limited to, writing both internal and external communications, assisting with marketing and promotional material, running errands, organizing vendors, keeping track of disparate project-related tasks, internet and physical research, script coverage, taking notes at meetings, and occasional creative input. Filing, data entry, and answering phones should be kept to a minimum. Positions in the accounting and retail fields need not inquire.
Position must be full-time with basic health and vacation benefits. Salary may be dependent on experience but should include the possiblity of increases over time and for excellence in performance of job duties. Special consideration will be awarded to positions related to costuming, science fiction, fantasy, or Aaron Sorkin.
Poster has a Bachelor of Science in Chemistry and experience in retail, accounting, and script coverage; she also possesses years of experience in an office environment and the ability to roll calls. Poster has experience working with highly confidential information and is discreet, loyal, and resourceful. She is a motivated self-starter who enjoys working with others on larger projects while reserving some tasks as hers alone, and always adheres to both hard and soft deadlines.The employer that succeeds in acquiring the poster shall receive a hard-working, smart, and articulate employee willing to go above and beyond to contribute to a great working environment and a fulfilling, exceptional product or service.
Interested parties may email: semigeekgirl@gmail.com
Well, it's worth a try, right?
Friday, August 15, 2008
Taking it to the mattresses
I hate blogging from work, but my new discovery prompted me to need to blog immediately. (Which, according to Lewis Black, makes me the root of all evil. The sad thing is, I kind of agree with him. I do not Twitter, and I'm vaguely appalled at the amount of texting I've been doing lately... but these are issues for another post.)
In between actual work, I cruised over to the Hilton website to try getting a room yet again. They have to release the extras sometime, and while I know that time is likely to be June - WAY too late to appease my OCD - I live in hope. (Also anger, anxiety, and increasing frustration.) As usual, I plugged in the dates for next year's Con and got no availability. Below the "we're sorry, yada yada yada" message that always appears, there was another familiar link. "Flexible dates?" it asks.
Despite the fact that my dates are in no way flexible (they're set in adamantium), I clicked on it. It took me to the "availability calendar", which showed that my dates were booked up, and that about two days after the Convention ended, 4-night stays would open up again. But all the dates before the Convention were greyed out, which was odd. Was there no availability for all of July 2009? So I clicked on July 21st to check. A little green check-box appeared, indicating that a 4-night stay beginning the 21st was available. WTF? Three of those four nights were most of the nights I need. So I thought, oh, that makes sense. Saturday is always the most heavily attended day of the Con - either they really are booked for Saturday, or Saturday is the night they know they can sell at any price, so they're holding it. (I then briefly considered changing hotels just for Saturday, then realized that A) Saturday is the night of the masquerade and the entire point of staying this close, and B) I would have to spend at least two hours on Saturday moving, which would be a huge waste of very expensive time. No.)
But then I thought, what if they're not holding Saturday? Let's check, just for the hell of it. So I changed my 4-night stay to a 5-night stay, still beginning the 21st. And, lo and behold - IT WAS AVAILABLE. Now, here's the thing: I can't afford an extra night. No way, no how. I can't actually afford the four nights I need. (We'll discuss the concept of "afford" later. What I mean is that while I can find the money it is semi-irresponsible for me to spend it on this. I'm not getting it from loan sharks or falling behind on my rent, though.) So I can't afford five nights, but I click on the reservation button anyway. (Obviously my credit card will not be charged, as I haven't given it to them yet. Why do some websites insist on telling you that on every screen?) It allows me to choose a room type from the quoted prices and advance another screen. So here I am on the final price, give us your credit card information, etc. screen. And it's a shocker.
I look at the total, perplexed. I punch the quoted room rate into my calculator and multiply by five. It's not particularly close to the number on screen. I add the 10% (@#$##$^^&*) hotel tax. Still doesn't match. So I search the screen for something to explain it. There it is! "Note: room prices vary during the length of your stay." Do they ever! The first night - the 21st, before the Con begins - is $110 dollars cheaper than the other nights. Wow.
The part of my brain that doesn't consult reality is still trying to make this work. The fifth (unnecessary) night is the cheapest night, after all. And, I thought, what if I reserve the room for all five nights, and then, in a couple of months, call the Hilton and explain that I'll only be needing four of them? Then I'll have the room! The tragic part is that at this point I actually felt guilty for gaming the Hilton reservation system. I felt that I wasn't being fair to the hotel. Don't worry, scrolling down cured me of this misplaced compassion real fast.
I'm not (usually) stupid, so I scrolled down and started reading all the caveats to the reservation. The first blow was financial - the entire cost of the reservation would be charged to my credit card today, despite the fact that I specifically hadn't selected the "prepaid" rate. All right, fine. I was blathering on about cash on the barrel; looks like I'll be putting my money where my mouth is. The second blow was also financial - valet parking (no self park available) at $32/night. Ouch.
But the third blow was the coup de grâce. "If you cancel for any reason, attempt to modify this reservation, or do not arrive on your specified check-in date, your payment is non-refundable." I'm honestly still a little speechless. You're telling me that if I book a room with you, and give you more than two thousand dollars today, you still have the right to not give me a room - and keep all my money - if my plans change at all? So, even if I was willing to just take the hit and pay for all five nights, without asking for any changes, if I couldn't get there the first night you'd have the right to give my room away? That's insane.
It's just wrong. I can't even articulate how wrong it is. I know that this is not the only time and place that hotels pull crap like this, but I can't believe we let them get away with it. I'm not even sure it's legal. (Although it probably is. I will be calling the Better Business Bureau to check, though.) The Hilton has earned my eternal contempt. They have rooms available on the nights I need - I've proven it - yet they won't rent one to me. If I do get one, by paying extra for nights I don't need, they'll give it away when I can't claim it.
And I'm sure the other hotels are all doing the same thing. They just have better-programmed reservation systems that don't have this loophole, so I can't prove it. Well, good for them. If you're in the service industry and you're going to be evil, at least have the decency to lie about it.
In between actual work, I cruised over to the Hilton website to try getting a room yet again. They have to release the extras sometime, and while I know that time is likely to be June - WAY too late to appease my OCD - I live in hope. (Also anger, anxiety, and increasing frustration.) As usual, I plugged in the dates for next year's Con and got no availability. Below the "we're sorry, yada yada yada" message that always appears, there was another familiar link. "Flexible dates?" it asks.
Despite the fact that my dates are in no way flexible (they're set in adamantium), I clicked on it. It took me to the "availability calendar", which showed that my dates were booked up, and that about two days after the Convention ended, 4-night stays would open up again. But all the dates before the Convention were greyed out, which was odd. Was there no availability for all of July 2009? So I clicked on July 21st to check. A little green check-box appeared, indicating that a 4-night stay beginning the 21st was available. WTF? Three of those four nights were most of the nights I need. So I thought, oh, that makes sense. Saturday is always the most heavily attended day of the Con - either they really are booked for Saturday, or Saturday is the night they know they can sell at any price, so they're holding it. (I then briefly considered changing hotels just for Saturday, then realized that A) Saturday is the night of the masquerade and the entire point of staying this close, and B) I would have to spend at least two hours on Saturday moving, which would be a huge waste of very expensive time. No.)
But then I thought, what if they're not holding Saturday? Let's check, just for the hell of it. So I changed my 4-night stay to a 5-night stay, still beginning the 21st. And, lo and behold - IT WAS AVAILABLE. Now, here's the thing: I can't afford an extra night. No way, no how. I can't actually afford the four nights I need. (We'll discuss the concept of "afford" later. What I mean is that while I can find the money it is semi-irresponsible for me to spend it on this. I'm not getting it from loan sharks or falling behind on my rent, though.) So I can't afford five nights, but I click on the reservation button anyway. (Obviously my credit card will not be charged, as I haven't given it to them yet. Why do some websites insist on telling you that on every screen?) It allows me to choose a room type from the quoted prices and advance another screen. So here I am on the final price, give us your credit card information, etc. screen. And it's a shocker.
I look at the total, perplexed. I punch the quoted room rate into my calculator and multiply by five. It's not particularly close to the number on screen. I add the 10% (@#$##$^^&*) hotel tax. Still doesn't match. So I search the screen for something to explain it. There it is! "Note: room prices vary during the length of your stay." Do they ever! The first night - the 21st, before the Con begins - is $110 dollars cheaper than the other nights. Wow.
The part of my brain that doesn't consult reality is still trying to make this work. The fifth (unnecessary) night is the cheapest night, after all. And, I thought, what if I reserve the room for all five nights, and then, in a couple of months, call the Hilton and explain that I'll only be needing four of them? Then I'll have the room! The tragic part is that at this point I actually felt guilty for gaming the Hilton reservation system. I felt that I wasn't being fair to the hotel. Don't worry, scrolling down cured me of this misplaced compassion real fast.
I'm not (usually) stupid, so I scrolled down and started reading all the caveats to the reservation. The first blow was financial - the entire cost of the reservation would be charged to my credit card today, despite the fact that I specifically hadn't selected the "prepaid" rate. All right, fine. I was blathering on about cash on the barrel; looks like I'll be putting my money where my mouth is. The second blow was also financial - valet parking (no self park available) at $32/night. Ouch.
But the third blow was the coup de grâce. "If you cancel for any reason, attempt to modify this reservation, or do not arrive on your specified check-in date, your payment is non-refundable." I'm honestly still a little speechless. You're telling me that if I book a room with you, and give you more than two thousand dollars today, you still have the right to not give me a room - and keep all my money - if my plans change at all? So, even if I was willing to just take the hit and pay for all five nights, without asking for any changes, if I couldn't get there the first night you'd have the right to give my room away? That's insane.
It's just wrong. I can't even articulate how wrong it is. I know that this is not the only time and place that hotels pull crap like this, but I can't believe we let them get away with it. I'm not even sure it's legal. (Although it probably is. I will be calling the Better Business Bureau to check, though.) The Hilton has earned my eternal contempt. They have rooms available on the nights I need - I've proven it - yet they won't rent one to me. If I do get one, by paying extra for nights I don't need, they'll give it away when I can't claim it.
And I'm sure the other hotels are all doing the same thing. They just have better-programmed reservation systems that don't have this loophole, so I can't prove it. Well, good for them. If you're in the service industry and you're going to be evil, at least have the decency to lie about it.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Comic-Con Hangover
Just when you thought it was safe...
I mentioned in a previous post that if I didn't have a hotel room lined up for next year's Con before I left this year's, I'd consider myself a failure. Well, get ready to stamp "loser" on my forehead, because I don't. Although it's not for lack of trying.
I decided this year that, despite the fact that I can't really afford it, the Marriott Marina (otherwise known as the hotel that actually shares a wall with the Convention Center - it's that close) was the place I wanted to stay next year. I figured it would be worth it in terms of convenience and lack of exhaustion (Consider the possibilities: 20 pounds of swag carving a groove in your shoulder? Just run over to the hotel and stash it! 4-inch costume heels slowly carving your feet into bloody fragments? Run (hobble) back to the hotel and throw on sneakers! Tired of trying to have a nice, sit-down dinner while dressed as a Klingon? Stop by the hotel on your way out and change!), if not in actual value. Also, I told myself, if I'm going to participate in the Masquerade, this is the year to do it. My sewing skills are improving, my friends who might be willing to dress up number more than the fingers on one hand, I have a boyfriend who understands lighting tech and a friend who can choreograph - the planets are in alignment! What better excuse for staying at the Marriott than realizing that you're going to be hauling trunks of makeup and costumes - above and beyond all your own crap - down to the Convention Center. I decided to bite the bullet.
But I'm not a Con rookie. I knew that waiting for the convention-rate rooms to go live in February would leave me with approximately a 1 in 125,000 chance of scoring a (deeply discounted) room at the lovely Marriott Marina. So I was already planning on paying (gulp) full price, or something close to it. I was hoping there might be a tiny discount for booking a full year in advance, and even considering prepaying (I hadn't yet calculated what the interest accruing on my credit card from that charge would cost me). So when I walked over to the Marriott to donate blood on Friday, I stopped by the front desk on my way out to see if I could make a reservation. The lady there informed me that they did not take any advance reservations in person, but only through the reservation line. She then gave me a pen with the phone number on it. Slightly annoyed but resigned, I took the pen and walked back over to the Convention Center, where I found a semi-quiet spot to sit and call the reservation number. The lady on the phone informed me that they could not take reservations so far in advance. I inquired if she would check to make sure there was no exception because of the Convention. She checked. Nope. I then asked her is she could tell me when they would be accepting reservations. She said that she wasn't certain, but to try back in a week.
I waited a week and a half, then called again. The lady on the phone said that my check-out date (7/26/09) was still past the dates they were booking. Again I asked when that might change; again I was told to try back in a week. (In the meantime, you understand, I checked three or four major travel sites, AAA, and the websites for the big hotel chains. No joy.) So this Monday I called again. I gave my dates and my preferred hotel to the lady on the phone. She plugged it into her computer. Pause. "I'm sorry, the hotel you've requested has no rooms available. It's fully booked." Ever polite (because, pissed as I am, the lady in the call center is not to blame. She probably doesn't even know what Comic-Con is), I inquired if she could tell me when the rooms had filled up, as reservations had been unavailable up until less than a week previously. Her system did not have that information. I thanked her and hung up.
And proceeded to repeat the entire rigamarole at with the Hilton (2nd closest hotel) and their reservation line. It too is fully booked, more than eleven months before the convention. The nice lady on this call, sensing the oddity of this, asked me if there was a convention or event that weekend. I replied that there was. She then informed me sweetly that that must be why so many rooms were blocked out, since most people would book their rooms later, through the convention. I didn't bother trying to tell her that the San Diego hotels reserve at most 30% of their rooms to sell at the convention rate, and that the rest would eventually be sold at astronomical rates. I just thanked her politely and hung up.
I went back to the travel sites. Hotels.com still tells me that no rooms are available in the entire city that weekend, which I take to mean that they won't search that far out. Another site - I think it was Travelocity, but I've lost track - offered me rooms at several hotels, all for the identical bargain price of $8999.99 per night. For my sanity, I'm assuming that's a system glitch. The Automobile Club (after mysteriously losing my membership information and forcing me to create a new login) informs me that they will not coordinate travel more than 330 days in advance.
At this point, I'm at a loss. My only advantage in this sort of thing is that I'm organized and I remember to do things early. But the hotels have negated this, and I'm not quite sure why. I do not believe that all of the rooms at the five closest hotels to the Convention Center are already booked. Which means that the hotels are holding them for some reason. Sure, some of them are for the discounted Convention rate, but not that many of them - given that they can charge more than their everyday rates that weekend, they don't want to allocate very many rooms at less than the everyday rate. So what are they holding them for? Are they expecting the Hollywood studios to book all of them? Or do they just think they'll be able to charge more later when people are desperate? I don't know, but I'm starting to get angry.
I don't expect to get what I want all the time, but I hate it when I've done everything right and yet, for unknown reasons, I'm still screwed. I'm willing to put cash on the table eleven months in advance. What more can hotels ask for? And if I can't get a room right now with that attitude, what hope do the morons trying to get a room in June have? I've been a San Diego loyalist - I'm practically a native, after all - but when this sort of thing becomes common, when you need contacts just to get a decent hotel room... that's when I start to think the Con has outgrown the city.
Not that I'm giving up, of course. The Holiday Inn a mile from the Convention Center offered rooms for a little less than I paid this year, so I booked one. In three weeks, when AAA deigns to help me, I'm hoping they'll offer me the hotel I've stayed at the past two years. (For some reason, this particular hotel always claims to be a long-term-stay facility on its own website, and refuses to accept reservations shorter than 20 days. But when I book through AAA they accept my four day stay.) If they do, I'll take a room there, because I'm used to it and my boyfriend likes it. I'll cancel my Holiday Inn room, which is about the same price and distance. Then I'll wait for the Convention lottery. If I get a room at one of my top four hotels, I'll let the AAA room go.
And I have a couple of other ideas. But I'm still annoyed to be this angry, this soon. Comic-Con is supposed to be my vacation. But when do I get a vacation from Comic-Con?
I mentioned in a previous post that if I didn't have a hotel room lined up for next year's Con before I left this year's, I'd consider myself a failure. Well, get ready to stamp "loser" on my forehead, because I don't. Although it's not for lack of trying.
I decided this year that, despite the fact that I can't really afford it, the Marriott Marina (otherwise known as the hotel that actually shares a wall with the Convention Center - it's that close) was the place I wanted to stay next year. I figured it would be worth it in terms of convenience and lack of exhaustion (Consider the possibilities: 20 pounds of swag carving a groove in your shoulder? Just run over to the hotel and stash it! 4-inch costume heels slowly carving your feet into bloody fragments? Run (hobble) back to the hotel and throw on sneakers! Tired of trying to have a nice, sit-down dinner while dressed as a Klingon? Stop by the hotel on your way out and change!), if not in actual value. Also, I told myself, if I'm going to participate in the Masquerade, this is the year to do it. My sewing skills are improving, my friends who might be willing to dress up number more than the fingers on one hand, I have a boyfriend who understands lighting tech and a friend who can choreograph - the planets are in alignment! What better excuse for staying at the Marriott than realizing that you're going to be hauling trunks of makeup and costumes - above and beyond all your own crap - down to the Convention Center. I decided to bite the bullet.
But I'm not a Con rookie. I knew that waiting for the convention-rate rooms to go live in February would leave me with approximately a 1 in 125,000 chance of scoring a (deeply discounted) room at the lovely Marriott Marina. So I was already planning on paying (gulp) full price, or something close to it. I was hoping there might be a tiny discount for booking a full year in advance, and even considering prepaying (I hadn't yet calculated what the interest accruing on my credit card from that charge would cost me). So when I walked over to the Marriott to donate blood on Friday, I stopped by the front desk on my way out to see if I could make a reservation. The lady there informed me that they did not take any advance reservations in person, but only through the reservation line. She then gave me a pen with the phone number on it. Slightly annoyed but resigned, I took the pen and walked back over to the Convention Center, where I found a semi-quiet spot to sit and call the reservation number. The lady on the phone informed me that they could not take reservations so far in advance. I inquired if she would check to make sure there was no exception because of the Convention. She checked. Nope. I then asked her is she could tell me when they would be accepting reservations. She said that she wasn't certain, but to try back in a week.
I waited a week and a half, then called again. The lady on the phone said that my check-out date (7/26/09) was still past the dates they were booking. Again I asked when that might change; again I was told to try back in a week. (In the meantime, you understand, I checked three or four major travel sites, AAA, and the websites for the big hotel chains. No joy.) So this Monday I called again. I gave my dates and my preferred hotel to the lady on the phone. She plugged it into her computer. Pause. "I'm sorry, the hotel you've requested has no rooms available. It's fully booked." Ever polite (because, pissed as I am, the lady in the call center is not to blame. She probably doesn't even know what Comic-Con is), I inquired if she could tell me when the rooms had filled up, as reservations had been unavailable up until less than a week previously. Her system did not have that information. I thanked her and hung up.
And proceeded to repeat the entire rigamarole at with the Hilton (2nd closest hotel) and their reservation line. It too is fully booked, more than eleven months before the convention. The nice lady on this call, sensing the oddity of this, asked me if there was a convention or event that weekend. I replied that there was. She then informed me sweetly that that must be why so many rooms were blocked out, since most people would book their rooms later, through the convention. I didn't bother trying to tell her that the San Diego hotels reserve at most 30% of their rooms to sell at the convention rate, and that the rest would eventually be sold at astronomical rates. I just thanked her politely and hung up.
I went back to the travel sites. Hotels.com still tells me that no rooms are available in the entire city that weekend, which I take to mean that they won't search that far out. Another site - I think it was Travelocity, but I've lost track - offered me rooms at several hotels, all for the identical bargain price of $8999.99 per night. For my sanity, I'm assuming that's a system glitch. The Automobile Club (after mysteriously losing my membership information and forcing me to create a new login) informs me that they will not coordinate travel more than 330 days in advance.
At this point, I'm at a loss. My only advantage in this sort of thing is that I'm organized and I remember to do things early. But the hotels have negated this, and I'm not quite sure why. I do not believe that all of the rooms at the five closest hotels to the Convention Center are already booked. Which means that the hotels are holding them for some reason. Sure, some of them are for the discounted Convention rate, but not that many of them - given that they can charge more than their everyday rates that weekend, they don't want to allocate very many rooms at less than the everyday rate. So what are they holding them for? Are they expecting the Hollywood studios to book all of them? Or do they just think they'll be able to charge more later when people are desperate? I don't know, but I'm starting to get angry.
I don't expect to get what I want all the time, but I hate it when I've done everything right and yet, for unknown reasons, I'm still screwed. I'm willing to put cash on the table eleven months in advance. What more can hotels ask for? And if I can't get a room right now with that attitude, what hope do the morons trying to get a room in June have? I've been a San Diego loyalist - I'm practically a native, after all - but when this sort of thing becomes common, when you need contacts just to get a decent hotel room... that's when I start to think the Con has outgrown the city.
Not that I'm giving up, of course. The Holiday Inn a mile from the Convention Center offered rooms for a little less than I paid this year, so I booked one. In three weeks, when AAA deigns to help me, I'm hoping they'll offer me the hotel I've stayed at the past two years. (For some reason, this particular hotel always claims to be a long-term-stay facility on its own website, and refuses to accept reservations shorter than 20 days. But when I book through AAA they accept my four day stay.) If they do, I'll take a room there, because I'm used to it and my boyfriend likes it. I'll cancel my Holiday Inn room, which is about the same price and distance. Then I'll wait for the Convention lottery. If I get a room at one of my top four hotels, I'll let the AAA room go.
And I have a couple of other ideas. But I'm still annoyed to be this angry, this soon. Comic-Con is supposed to be my vacation. But when do I get a vacation from Comic-Con?
Saturday, August 9, 2008
(Somewhat belated) Comic-Con Wrap-up
We went, we saw, we were exhausted.
Actually, we did pretty well this year. Having had several years' experience to learn what is and is not possible at Comic-Con, my boyfriend and I managed to maintain some Zen over the weekend. Which is to say I freaked out over non-essentials only three times, my boyfriend only expressed the wish to kill about ten people with his bare hands, and we managed to settle our one major quarrel with a solution acceptable to all of us (he stayed in room 6CDEF to watch Mutant Wars, and I trekked up Fifth Street to meet our friends at an Irish pub; everyone was happier that way).
As usual, the Convention Center was filled to capacity; walking from room to room was often the most frustrating part, unless you tried to walk around on the exhibition floor, which was worse. I still got into every panel I actually stood in line for, though I did give up on Heroes before I even got to the Convention Center that morning, and we skipped the screening of Doctor Horrible's Singalong Blog when we heard that they'd closed the line for it three hours before it started (in retrospect, I'm not sure that was true, but we'd already seen it anyway and we were tired after watching The Next Avengers movie, so we headed back to the hotel).
Of the panels I did see, the Dr. Horrible one - featuring Joss Whedon, Neil Patrick Harris, Nathan Fillion, Felicia Day, Simon Helberg, Jed and Zach Whedon, and Melissa Tancharoen - was definitely the highlight of the convention. It was pretty much a "you had to be there" kind of thing, although I will say that NPH and Nathan Fillion were unremittingly hilarious. I laughed almost the entire time. I think somebody posted the whole thing on YouTube if you want to look for it, but really - you had to be there. And I will never think about Twittering the same way again.
The lowlight would have to be the Twilight panel. I admit that I haven't read the books, but several of my friends enjoyed them, and the excerpt I read on Amazon seemed intriguing. Also, the movie has been getting a decent amount of buzz in geek circles, and I wanted to get in on the ground floor. So I got in line about an hour before the panel started, with a few thousand fans. Honestly, I wasn't sure I'd make it in, but it didn't turn out to be a problem. Once in, I found myself surrounded by tween girls and middle-aged women, all of whom seemed to labor under the misapprehension that this was the first time anyone had ever been so devoted a fan of anything. (Harry Potter, anyone? Lord of the Rings? The original fandom - Trekkies? Wearing a "Team Edward" t-shirt does not require the same level of commitment as joining Vader's Fist, little girl. I don't care how much you loved the books.) Sadly, the fans were not the low point. That honor belonged to the panelists. Catherine Hardwicke, erstwhile director of such hard-edged fare as Thirteen, giggled nearly as much as her cast. Kristen Stewart, playing Bella, was more interested in speaking sotto voce to her castmates than in answering questions into the microphone. Robert Pattinson, playing Edward, appeared tongue-tied for most of it, stalling for time by running his hand through his absurdly cut, longish hair. Every time he did this (ten at least), eighty percent of the room screamed and swooned. When there was a brief lull in audience questions, the moderator said "Any more questions?" and a woman in the row behind me muttered, "Yes. Are you all drunk?" It was the wittiest sentence spoken in the panel. They showed footage (the climactic vampire battle in a dance studio, a fourteen-year-old girl told me later); it was slow and uninspired. All in all - thumbs down. I know the tweens will vilify me (the fourteen-year-old did; I placated her with my free double-sided Twilight poster), but honestly, it looked like schlock. And I hear that the final book, which came out a week later, has disappointed many with its decidedly unfeminist conclusion. I hate to appear (openly) prejudiced, but I have to say I always had my doubts about a vampire series written by a Mormon housewife. Go watch some Buffy, little girls. Or at least read Interview with a Vampire. It may be schlock, but at least it's intricate, philosophical schlock.
I also saw the panel for Dollhouse panel, in which Eliza Dushku flirted shamelessly with Tahmoh Penikett and talked about hunting. Funny, but not as funny as Dr. Horrible. Battlestar Galactica showed some kickass footage and also boasted a good-natured, intelligent cast (best line, James Callis: "I had to think, is it possible for someone to be a deeply spiritual person and at the same time a raging nymphomaniac? And the answer is, yes.") Sadly, Jamie Bamber is the only man I've ever seen made LESS sexy by an English accent. Weird, huh? The Watchmen panel was thoughtful and interesting, with each of the actors talking expressively about the motivations for their characters - I have high hopes. The Spirit panel managed to be informative and intelligent without actually telling me what the plot is, which was confusing. Although Samuel L. Jackson was unsurprisingly brilliant (best line: "When I was growing up, Nick Fury was a white guy. It just goes to show that in America you CAN be anything you want to be. You too can grow up to be a black man").
And there was more. We missed the Masquerade (third year in a row. Damnit, I am going to that next year!), but I caught most of the replay the next day. More on that in a later post. We managed not to eat dinner in the convention hall at all - turns out there's a restaurant in the Marriott next door. Only a couple of bucks more expensive, and way better food. I donated blood as usual, and was excited to find out my blood type (weirdly, none of my doctors ever mentioned it). I am the deeply rare AB negative, which I think is cool, although I can't really explain why. I guess I just like feeling special. I got swag and more swag. (I've now consolidated it to one small corner of my bedroom. Anyone desperate for a limited-edition Chief Tyrol BSG action figure that looks uncannily like Forrest DeWitt should make me an offer.)
And then we returned to our non-insane real lives. I want to go back now. Two weeks of living in the real world (and attending my real job) have depressed me. But I forge on nonetheless.
Next task: finding a hotel for next year!
(All quotes are from the best of my memory and should not be considered verbatim. I took a notebook, but I mostly doodled in it. So sue me. You want news, try CNN.)
Actually, we did pretty well this year. Having had several years' experience to learn what is and is not possible at Comic-Con, my boyfriend and I managed to maintain some Zen over the weekend. Which is to say I freaked out over non-essentials only three times, my boyfriend only expressed the wish to kill about ten people with his bare hands, and we managed to settle our one major quarrel with a solution acceptable to all of us (he stayed in room 6CDEF to watch Mutant Wars, and I trekked up Fifth Street to meet our friends at an Irish pub; everyone was happier that way).
As usual, the Convention Center was filled to capacity; walking from room to room was often the most frustrating part, unless you tried to walk around on the exhibition floor, which was worse. I still got into every panel I actually stood in line for, though I did give up on Heroes before I even got to the Convention Center that morning, and we skipped the screening of Doctor Horrible's Singalong Blog when we heard that they'd closed the line for it three hours before it started (in retrospect, I'm not sure that was true, but we'd already seen it anyway and we were tired after watching The Next Avengers movie, so we headed back to the hotel).
Of the panels I did see, the Dr. Horrible one - featuring Joss Whedon, Neil Patrick Harris, Nathan Fillion, Felicia Day, Simon Helberg, Jed and Zach Whedon, and Melissa Tancharoen - was definitely the highlight of the convention. It was pretty much a "you had to be there" kind of thing, although I will say that NPH and Nathan Fillion were unremittingly hilarious. I laughed almost the entire time. I think somebody posted the whole thing on YouTube if you want to look for it, but really - you had to be there. And I will never think about Twittering the same way again.
The lowlight would have to be the Twilight panel. I admit that I haven't read the books, but several of my friends enjoyed them, and the excerpt I read on Amazon seemed intriguing. Also, the movie has been getting a decent amount of buzz in geek circles, and I wanted to get in on the ground floor. So I got in line about an hour before the panel started, with a few thousand fans. Honestly, I wasn't sure I'd make it in, but it didn't turn out to be a problem. Once in, I found myself surrounded by tween girls and middle-aged women, all of whom seemed to labor under the misapprehension that this was the first time anyone had ever been so devoted a fan of anything. (Harry Potter, anyone? Lord of the Rings? The original fandom - Trekkies? Wearing a "Team Edward" t-shirt does not require the same level of commitment as joining Vader's Fist, little girl. I don't care how much you loved the books.) Sadly, the fans were not the low point. That honor belonged to the panelists. Catherine Hardwicke, erstwhile director of such hard-edged fare as Thirteen, giggled nearly as much as her cast. Kristen Stewart, playing Bella, was more interested in speaking sotto voce to her castmates than in answering questions into the microphone. Robert Pattinson, playing Edward, appeared tongue-tied for most of it, stalling for time by running his hand through his absurdly cut, longish hair. Every time he did this (ten at least), eighty percent of the room screamed and swooned. When there was a brief lull in audience questions, the moderator said "Any more questions?" and a woman in the row behind me muttered, "Yes. Are you all drunk?" It was the wittiest sentence spoken in the panel. They showed footage (the climactic vampire battle in a dance studio, a fourteen-year-old girl told me later); it was slow and uninspired. All in all - thumbs down. I know the tweens will vilify me (the fourteen-year-old did; I placated her with my free double-sided Twilight poster), but honestly, it looked like schlock. And I hear that the final book, which came out a week later, has disappointed many with its decidedly unfeminist conclusion. I hate to appear (openly) prejudiced, but I have to say I always had my doubts about a vampire series written by a Mormon housewife. Go watch some Buffy, little girls. Or at least read Interview with a Vampire. It may be schlock, but at least it's intricate, philosophical schlock.
I also saw the panel for Dollhouse panel, in which Eliza Dushku flirted shamelessly with Tahmoh Penikett and talked about hunting. Funny, but not as funny as Dr. Horrible. Battlestar Galactica showed some kickass footage and also boasted a good-natured, intelligent cast (best line, James Callis: "I had to think, is it possible for someone to be a deeply spiritual person and at the same time a raging nymphomaniac? And the answer is, yes.") Sadly, Jamie Bamber is the only man I've ever seen made LESS sexy by an English accent. Weird, huh? The Watchmen panel was thoughtful and interesting, with each of the actors talking expressively about the motivations for their characters - I have high hopes. The Spirit panel managed to be informative and intelligent without actually telling me what the plot is, which was confusing. Although Samuel L. Jackson was unsurprisingly brilliant (best line: "When I was growing up, Nick Fury was a white guy. It just goes to show that in America you CAN be anything you want to be. You too can grow up to be a black man").
And there was more. We missed the Masquerade (third year in a row. Damnit, I am going to that next year!), but I caught most of the replay the next day. More on that in a later post. We managed not to eat dinner in the convention hall at all - turns out there's a restaurant in the Marriott next door. Only a couple of bucks more expensive, and way better food. I donated blood as usual, and was excited to find out my blood type (weirdly, none of my doctors ever mentioned it). I am the deeply rare AB negative, which I think is cool, although I can't really explain why. I guess I just like feeling special. I got swag and more swag. (I've now consolidated it to one small corner of my bedroom. Anyone desperate for a limited-edition Chief Tyrol BSG action figure that looks uncannily like Forrest DeWitt should make me an offer.)
And then we returned to our non-insane real lives. I want to go back now. Two weeks of living in the real world (and attending my real job) have depressed me. But I forge on nonetheless.
Next task: finding a hotel for next year!
(All quotes are from the best of my memory and should not be considered verbatim. I took a notebook, but I mostly doodled in it. So sue me. You want news, try CNN.)
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