In the Trenches of Blood: Chapter 2: Monster Mania X

Journal / convention report.

IN THE TRENCHES OF BLOOD with Scott Lefebvre

Issue 2: Monster Mania X! [3/08]

 

     For those of you that don’t know who I am or what I do, then I recommend that you click back and check out “Issue #1: Chicago Fango” because although I could explain who I am and what I do, I feel that it would be redundant.

     Let it suffice that I am a vendor and although this is a convention report, it is not a convention report.

 

     I knew it was coming.

     But it’s always a little bit difficult to know if you’re really prepared for a show.

     A month or so ago this was going to be a local show for Fearwerx.

     Any of the New York shows, which all happen in New Jersey, therefore, all of the New Jersey shows are local for us since our warehouse is located in scenic Long Island, New York.

     Monster Mania being a New Jersey show, but just barely, since it’s at the southern tip of New Jersey, just over the bridge from Philadelphia, meant that Joe Sena was going to bring his family along and make it a work vacation.

     Joe would work the booth and the wife and kids would get to enjoy not having to make their own meals or make their own beds for a weekend.

     As Monster Mania loomed nearer, we realized that since I would be coming down to gradually assume the operations of the warehouse and order fulfillment, it made sense for me to come down and do Monster Mania so I could perform a post-show inventory when we got back from the show.

     I was excited to get the chance to work with, or at least across from Joe because for the past seven months I had been working the out of town shows.   So by the very nature of the arrangement, working shows for Joe, I hadn’t done any shows with him.

      Usually when we do a show, I rent an s.u.v. and drive it from Rhode Island to Long Island, and pack it close to bursting with merchandise, but since Joe and I would both be doing this show, things were a little different.

      I knew my 1984 Buick Regal probably wouldn’t make it to and from Long Island without an expensive exhaust and gasket job so we planned for me to bus and train it out to L. I.

     There was a bit of finagling necessary to work out which combination of bus and train would get me where I needed to be when I needed to be there.

     The weeks before the show I put out bulletins and put up journal entries asking if anyone was interested in helping out with the manning or womanning of the booths.

     I received a response from a very enthusiastic seventeen year old girl that was turning eighteen on the Saturday.   I’m not age prejudiced, but I didn’t want to work with an eighteen year old girl because whenever I do a show I feel personally responsible for the happiness and safety of my crew and I didn’t want to have to keep tabs on a teenager celebrating her newly obtained adulthood.   God forbid, if someone got her liquored up and took advantage of her, and if she decided the day after that she didn’t really think she was consciously aware of the whole transaction, then I’d have to kill them and it’s such a time consuming affair.   You know, cutting off the head and hands and weighing down the body and all.   And even then there’s that lingering D.N.A. evidence.   So I said instead that although I couldn’t use her behind the booth this time around, in gratitude for her enthusiasm if she stopped by the booth I’d give her a free shirt of her choice as thanks and as a birthday gift.   She thanked me effusively and posted a couple bulletins proclaiming how awesome Fearwerx was and exhorting everyone to add our MySpace.   A couple days later I received a message stating that she wouldn’t be able to attend the show.   To which my response was, “Sorry cupcake, Maybe next time.”.

     Also responding was Rebeccers McBeckerson who sent me a message to the Fearwerx MySpace.   It was funny because it was a relatively formal introductory message offering her assistance for at the booth for the upcoming weekend.   I recognized who the message was from and let her in that I was moderating the Fearwerx MySpace these days and we fell into our normal back and forth give and take and she, in essence, informed me that she and her cohort Suzanne would be attending Monster Mania and offered to help set-up, work the booth, and maybe break down after the show.   Of which they helped out with one of the three, but you’ll have to read on to find out which one.

     So the Thursday before the show my room-mate Brendan Connole dropped me off at the Peter Pan / Bonanza Bus depot.   Trying to figure out the bus schedule online or over the phone was just an exercise in frustration so I just figured I’d show up and take my chances.   There were supposed to be busses every two hours but in actuality I had to take the 6:00 p.m. bus which was going to get me into Port Authority at around 10:00 p.m.   I called Joe and told him my e.t.a. and he checked out the train schedule online and we figured I’d be able to catch a train out of Penn Station which would get me into L. I. around 11:30 or so.

     The bus ride was uneventful.   I read Miyamoto Musashi’s “Book of Five Rings” five times because it was the only reading material I brought and I wanted to make sure that I understood what I was reading since the book is often credited with functioning on several different levels of meaning.

     People are such whiny impatient beings.   There was a movie on these tiny little monitors in front of the bus.   ‘The Astronaut’s Wife’.   When the movie ended the monitors just played static.   A couple of the passengers started to whine about the static and piped up asking the bus driver to turn the TVs off.   The lady in front of me, who smelled like suntan lotion and three days of not showering, turned around and said to me, “I don’t know why he just doesn’t turn it off.”, like we’re friends or something.   I replied, “I think he’s too busy driving the bus.” And thought that would be the end of it.   She sighed and said, “I just don’t know why he just doesn’t turn it off.”   I replied, “Look, lady, it doesn’t bother me any and I really don’t want to entertain your plaintitive musings on the subject.   Just ignore it.   Like I’m planning on doing with your complaining.” and I pulled the brim of my hat down and flipped the hood of my hoodie up, effectively blocking her out.

     The bus dropped me off at Port Authority, which I had never been to before.   I had imagined it would be like Grand Central station, but instead it was just a dim, dingy, subway-esque depot.   I followed the EXIT signs to the street.   I knew I had to go south nine blocks and east one block but when I hit the street it was dark and I had no idea which way was which.   I picked a direction and headed in it.   I accidentally walked north to Forty-Second Street which was disorienting.   I walked a block east on 42^nd and then banged a right and walked ten blocks south to Penn Station.   I went down the stairwell in the sidewalk and saw a couple cops on the first level and I said, “Evening officers.   I’ve got to get to Bethpage.   Little help?”.   They told me to go downstairs, then go downstairs again to the Long Island Rail Road and buy a ticket at the counter and they’d tell me where to go from there.   I thanked them and did as they instructed me to do.

     At the ticket booth I bought my ticket for $7 and stopped at information and asked where I’d pick up the train.   The pissed-off looking girl behind the booth told me the train was supposed to come in on track #17 but I should keep an eye on the board.   I decided not to ask her what board she was referring to and just figured it out on my own.

     I went and stood staring up at the board with all of the other commuters.

     The train came in and we all streamed on.   The ride to L. I. was relatively uneventful.   I called Doctor Mego to tell him I was going to be in around 11:30 and I kept my ear open for Hicksville.   On the next stop, Bethpage, I got off the train and Doctor Mego was on the platform waiting for me.   I drove him in his minivan, which was packed with stuff for the show, back to his house and dropped him off.   The more I get to know that guy the more I like him.   He’s pretty laid back and he makes doing what I do that much easier.   I dropped off Doctor Mego and took out my Garmin and set it up.   Suction cup mount up near the rearview mirror and the power adapter into the cigarette lighter jack.   I punched in the hotel destination and was on my way.

     Getting off Long Island wasn’t that difficult.   I couldn’t tell you which way the Garmin took me because I’m really not that familiar with the area.   I’ve come to be familiar with the Long Island Expressway and the Throgs Neck Bridge but any of the other bridges or tunnels between Long Island and New Jersey all sort of seem the same to me.   Once I made it into New Jersey I got onto the New Jersey Turnpike and made good time all the way down to Cherry Hill.

     About a mile before my hotel I was ecstatic to observe that there was a Denny’s so I pulled in and got a Meat Lover’s breakfast which I inhaled in under five minutes while shooting the breeze with the late nite staff.

     Riding the upswell of contentment that only hot food can deliver I found the hotel we were staying at.   Candlewood Suites.   As per usual there was a little nuisance at check in.   I waited at the desk for about a half-hour calling out, “Hello?” every five minutes or so.   Then I picked up the phone and I heard it immediately ring and the desk girl answered.   I could hear her voice over the phone and within earshot so I knew that stupid cooze must have heard me standing there for half an hour.   Lazy bint.   We both hung up and two seconds she was at the desk checking me in.   She asked me for a credit card, despite the fact that I knew that Joe had checked in, like, an hour earlier and told the desk staff I was coming and to keep an eye out for me.   I wasn’t in the mood to f*****g argue with an imbecile so I just let her take down my credit card information, knowing I wouldn’t be making any phone calls, much less long-distance phone calls, from my room, or ordering any pay-per-view movies.

     The room was a nice little studio.   I’ve lived in worse places.   Big bed and a little bathroom off to the side.   Little fridge, stove, microwave, and kitchen cabinet set.   Desk, chairs, bedside tables.   TV in an entertainment center.   You know.   Nothing special.

     I had been up since ten o’clock the day before, so I left my clothes in a pile and tried to take a nice hot shower.   The shower was like trying to frolic around under a low-pressure garden hose and I couldn’t find a happy medium between ice cold and third-degree blistering hot so I just kept turning between the two.   Turn to the hot side, “Ow! Ow! Ow! Hot! Hot! Hot! F**k!”.   Turn to the cool side, “Jesus frickin’ Christ! F**k! F**k! F**k! Gah!!!”.   At least the shower worked and I didn’t have to take a splash bath.

     I was up early as I usually am on show weekends.   As much as I have difficulty waking up early to go to a job that I hate, I have no problem waking up early before a show.   I’m always up before the cell phone alarm.

     I met up with Joe and his son, Alex, at the Denny’s I ate at the night before.   Since I already had last night’s breakfast floating around inside me, I just got hot coffee, iced water, orange juice and cranberry juice for breakfast.   Joe thought I was crazy not wanting something to eat, but I knew that if I got a big breakfast it would just weigh me down all day.

     We talked about some business while his side of the table had breakfast and I poured down some serious hydration.   When breakfast was done, we caravanned up and I led us to the host hotel.   We found okay parking and checked in with Dave, the man in charge of the convention.   Dave was welcoming and approachable and he confirmed that the load-in time was noon.   That would give us just about four hours to get set up before the first people through the doors so it would be a race but I felt pretty confident that we’d be in good shape for the early admissions.

     Back out in the parking lot Joe, Alex and I blew up our inflatable mannequins and made small talk, kind of getting each other ramped up for the show.   I’d like to think that my enthusiasm is contagious.

     We got all of the mannequins blown up with plenty of time before the noon load-in deadline so I smoked a few cigarettes and contemplated the contents of the two minivans, thinking about what the best plan of attack would be.

     We load up our collapsible dolly with gridwork and at noon the race was on.

     First trip in we got the big dangerous gridwork panels in and up.

     We made two more trips to empty out Doctor Mego’s minivan, then Joe left me to work on my booth and made the last few trips back and forth from his minivan.

     After I got my two tables on the sides where I wanted them, I hooked up my laptop and got some tunes going.

     Ron from Troma had the two tables to my left.   I had met Ron & Kathy at the Chicago Fangoria show but we didn’t really get to know each other.   Ron was a good neighbor.   We shared the outlet between our booths and I angled my laptop speakers facing my booth between our booths so I wouldn’t drown out his trailers on his side and so I could hear my music over his trailer box from his side.   The whole Troma crew was good-natured as they almost always are.   I thanked Ron and his crew for being good neighbors at the end of the show and said I was glad that Toxie didn’t come to my booth and interrupt any of my sales by coming up and getting up on the girls at my booth and ruffling my merch.    That weekend’s Toxie seemed to have thought that I meant he had been a nuisance at my booth, but I clarified that I was grateful that he hadn’t been a nuisance that weekend, but I have had problems with Troma characters blowing up the spot in front of my booth at a couple of other conventions.   I hope he got that I was sincerely grateful that they had been good neighbors.

     The first hour of set-up was loading everything in from the minivans and the second hour was building the grid-cubes.   The third hour was getting the shirts out of the boxes and the fourth hour was trying to get everything looking presentable before the first wave of people were let in.

     I managed to have my booth in pretty good shape by the time the doors were open.   Although every show is different, I’ve got a pretty good, flexible system for making sure that what needs to be done gets done, leaving stuff like prettying up the booth for last.

     The early admissions weren’t really ravenous so it left us a little time to keep up our set up.   Things got really busy as the evening progressed.   About an hour after the doors opened Rebeccers and Suzanne came by the booth.   We joked back and forth about how they completely missed set up and they offered to help out womanning the booth over the weekend so I could take pee and smoke breaks when I needed to.

      Sadly, I don’t remember a lot about the Friday.   I didn’t really get to know anybody.   As soon as I settled one group of customers there was another set of customers I had to turn my attention to, so my standard line was, “Are you going to be hanging around in the lobby after the show’s over?   Cool!   Catch up with me then!”, then I had to pivot and shoot a, “Hey!   How are ya?   What can I do ya for?” at the next cluster of people.

     There’s an upside and a downside to a busy convention.   The upside is that you make a lot of money.   The downside is that you don’t get to really know anyone or see anything or do anything.   I’m grateful for the financial success, because I view it as job security.   As long as the conventions continue to do well for the company, then I’ll continue to be able to go out and do more conventions, which is part of the reason that I signed on for this gig in the first place.

     Unfortunately I didn’t meet a single celebrity this weekend.   I’m not wicked disappointed, but I am a bit of a fan, and although I recognize the celebrities when they’re having dinner at the restaurant after the show, I don’t want to go up and bother them because I think that would be rude.

     The announcer called the end of the show for 10:00 p.m. and people trickled out but Joe and I stayed till everyone was gone because we were still making sales as people meandered their way out.

     The end of the show and we were exhausted.   Joe was happy that we seemed to do good bank, but eager to get back to our hotel and get a meal and some rest.   I told him that I’d be pleased to guide him back to our hotel but I was coming back to make the scene at the host hotel post-party.   He said I was insane, and I agreed.   I should have been exhausted, but based on my last Monster Mania lobby party I didn’t want to miss this one.

     Joe followed me back to the hotel and we shook hands and parted ways.   He told me to be safe and I replied that there was no way that I was going to even go near Doctor Mego’s minivan if I was even a little bit drunk.   Plus I wasn’t planning on getting too drunk anyhow.

     I ducked into my hotel room and took a quick shower.   As per usual I had worked myself into a froth during load-in and set-up, then worked in those clothes for six hours so I really wanted and needed a shower.   I had swass like I couldn’t even stand.   I didn’t get back on the road till about ten of eleven and by that time the liquor stores were closed.   I wasn’t too worried about it because I knew I only wanted a couple of beers and that they’d be easy enough to find with the people I knew who would be at the show.

     I found a decent parking space and walked to the main entrance of the hotel.   I stopped to have a cigarette with the smokers but I didn’t really recognize anyone so I just sort of hung out and eavesdropped to amuse myself.

     I got inside and I still didn’t recognize anyone, which was a little disconcerting because I knew that I knew plenty of people that were attending the convention, but I couldn’t figure out where they all were.   I called Rebeccers McBeckerson and she and Suzanne picked me up from the lobby and got me into a cold beer in a red plastic cup.

     The lobby was relatively sedate which was wicked lame.   There were signs up in the lobby stating that no alcoholic beverages were allowed in the lobby and there were hotel staff in blazers stopping people with beer bottles and hassling and admonishing and redirecting them.

     This was different from last time I was there.

     Last time I was there everyone had an open beer and if you didn’t have an open beer, there was someone that would soon offer you a beer which they produced from their pocket or backpack.   It was great.   I’m not an alcoholic, but there was a really good vibe in the room and everyone was really friendly and conversational and it was simple to get into conspiratorial trouble/fun.   That was where I met Rebeccers McBeckerson and Suzanne last time and we’ve kept in touch all this time.

     This time around the hotel staff stepping in front of anyone with a beer bottle and hassling them really fucked up the chi in the room.   I think that was part of why this year’s post-party sucked.   I think that instead of hanging out in the lobby like last year, everyone had their little gathering up in their hotel room like at most conventions.   I had been looking forward to the lobby party at Monster Mania for months and when I’m finally there it was disappointing.   A shame really.   You’d think that the hotel didn’t appreciate operating at full capacity for the weekend.   You’d think they didn’t want our business.   Maybe Dave will hear enough grumbling and select another location for next year’s convention.   Or rather the next Monster Mania, tentatively scheduled for August.

     Although I was disappointed in general, the disappointment was lightened by those few people I recognized and eventually ran into.   Anthony the Kiwi from Toetag Pictures was in attendance with Matt, who I hadn’t previously met.   We spent a little time hanging out and shooting the breeze, but really, there wasn’t a lot of stuff going on to get into.   I bumped into Rob G. from Icons of Fright who I was really looking forward to running into.   We hadn’t seen each other in person since last year’s New York Fangoria Weekend of Horrors and it was a little disorienting getting the chance to hang out in person again considering how frequently we’ve been e-mailing and texting and MySpace messaging back and forth.

     Since that fateful day almost a year ago Rob added a book review section to Icons of Fright and I’ve been providing an overwhelming amount of content to make the section more than a dead-end link.   Not that I’ve single-handedly filled the coffers of the Icons book review section, but with ninety-five percent of the content coming in from me, Rob and Mike from Icons have often said that I am the book review section of Icons of Fright and I have modestly accepted the title although I am grateful for anyone else that submits content to make the section look like less of a one-man show.

     Rob was accompanied by his friend Steve whose place in the network of acquaintance and association remained unclear with me for the whole weekend.   Although every time I ran into him we recognized each other and made small talk.   He said he’d definitely stop by and buy a copy of my book ‘Spooky Creepy Long Island’ on the Saturday.   Or was it the Sunday?   I don’t remember which day, but I know he didn’t end up picking up a copy.   Not that I’m angry.   But I brought ten books, and I left with five and I remember when each one sold, because I keep that money in a separate part of my wallet so it doesn’t get mixed in with the Fearwerx money.   What’s Joe’s is Joe’s, but what’s mine is mine.   Joe’s cool enough to let me sell my book at the booth and I appreciate that but the publisher expects me to pay for the books I took so I kind of have to be disciplined about the whole thing.

     I also remembered selling each book because since I wrote the book I make it a point to offer to sign each copy I sell and I make it a point to write a personalized message in each copy so I definitely would have remembered.

     Like I said, I’m not angry, but it’s kind of sad when you meet someone that seems cool and they say they’re definitely going to do something and they don’t.   Because the next time they say that they’re definitely going to do something in the back of your mind you’re thinking, “I’ve heard that before.”

     I also met Mike from Icons of Fright.   We had a healthy back and forth.   I busted his balls about flaking when I first tried to submit to Icons and he busted my balls about my submitting a few reviews that has been printed in a magazine and the resulting blow up.   But it was all in good fun.

     In Mike’s defense he had a good rejoinder.   He said, “If I had a dollar for every banana that sends me a message saying that they want to do something for Icons and ends up not following through…” and I understood implicitly.   There are a lot of people out there that talk about doing stuff that never get around to doing them.

      In my defense I said I’d explain the whole blow up over pre-published content when there weren’t so many ears around.

      It’s really simple, and it’s not a big deal, but I don’t want to make a big deal about the whole thing by explaining it here.

      It was also great to run into Art Ettinger from Ultra Violent Magazine.   That guy is always so chill that it’s really calming to spend time with him because I’m such a whirlwind of energy at these shows it’s a little overwhelming and it’s great to hang out with someone that’s not trying to buy anything from me or sell anything to me.

      It was a shame that internationally renowned Ghost Hunter Steve Gonsalves wasn’t in attendance, and Anthony from Toetag and I briefly discussed his obvious absence since we’re both enthusiasts of his existence, more as a decent and amiable human being than a world-famous TV celebrity.

     But like I said, the lobby post-party just wasn’t the same this year and after a couple beers had worn off I said my goodbyes and headed back to my hotel to get a few hours of rest.

     The next day I was up early.   Joe beat me to the show.   He Mapquested directions and found his own way there since I had the company Garmin, but I still got in before doors opened.   Resetting the booths was pretty easy.   Just a matter of replenishing the toys we sold through and refolding the shirts that had been tossed aside in Friday’s feeding frenzy.

     The Saturday started slow, but it was steadily busy.   Fearwerx bought five tables across from each other and both sides were busy all day long.   I remember tucking all of the twenties in my wallet and then running out of room in my wallet and hopping over to the other booth so Joe could stash the cash in the safe.   I remember doing that a few times and whenever I took a break there was another wad of twenties that changed hands.

      Not that the Saturday was all business.

      A girl named Cassie stopped by the booth and showed some interest in my book and then she asked if she could interview me, which, of course, I was pleased to do.   She had a little digital recorder that looked like an MP3 player and rather than an interview, it was more of a recorded conversation, which was interrupted at least five times by my having to address the needs of customers stopping by the booth to check things out and pick things up.   Cassie accepted the interruptions with good grace and implicitly understood my conflicting urges to be interviewed and faithfully serve the needs of incoming customers.   Cassie bought a copy of the book and I wrote her a personalized message along with the signature in the spot I usually sign my books.   She said she wanted to set up a website which would present a female perspective on horror and I cautioned her that she would be entering a kind of crowded field, instead advising her to team up with the girls at Pretty Scary and I also recommended that she check out Icons of Fright and Gorezone to see if they were looking for content and recommended Sirens of Cinema and Scars Magazine as a good way to get her content in print and told her to send a message to John Boitano at Scars because he’s such a stand-up guy.   She thanked me for my recommendations and we would have had a more thorough conversation but it was a really busy day at the booth.   I want to follow up with her and find out how the interview came out because I was so overwhelmed I have no idea what I was saying.   I mean I knew what I was saying at the time, but the whole interview was kind of a blur.

     Rebeccers and Suzanne came by the booth and I was immensely grateful that they offered to do a liquor store run for me.   I’m not really big on getting all fucked up at these shows because I want to remember them so I asked them to pick me up a bottle of mid-shelf amaretto and a bottle of sour mix.

      At the booth I met a cool guy named Ian from ‘Pleasures of the Damned’ and I chatted him up about his Miskatonic University hat.   I enjoyed talking to him but our conversation was fitful because of continuous customer traffic, so as so many interesting conversationalists, he became discouraged after about the tenth, “Hold on a second…” and said he was going to drift so of course I apologized and told him to catch up with me at the post-party which he thankfully did, but more on that later.

     Rebeccers and Suzanne returned with my brown paper bag of booze and mixer and my change and they offered to work the booth so I could take a break.   I set them up with some fives and ones for change and took off like a shot.   I got caught in a sea of people and I thought I was going to piss myself, so I cupped my hands and announced, “Attention slow-moving stragglers.   I’ve been trapped behind a table since ten a. m. and I really have to pee, so please clear a path!” and I got a couple dirty looks shot back at me but really, I didn’t much care.   I had to go and soon.   Some random guy behind me started heckling me about my announcement and I shot him a wry look, but he introduced himself to me later and showed up on the Saturday dressed in this ridiculous purple costume store pimp outfit.   That guy had a great sense of humor and I wish I’d gotten to know him better.   Maybe next show or next year.

     I got the pee out of me and a smoke into me and I got back to the table.   Of course there were some dudes at the table talking up the ladies.   That’s part of the reason to have chicks behind the table.   I just have to laugh.   It’s called “the honey pot” and guys never seem to learn.   The girls said they had fun working the table, but I felt bad having them work since we didn’t arrange to pay them for their work, but rest assured that they were well-compensated for their help with free merchandise and a generous allotment for the grocery trip they took.

     My booth was kind of the “clearance” booth.   I had most of the hoodies which we were trying to sell through to turn back into money for the summer season.   It’s true that hoodies don’t go bad over the summer but if you’ve got stuff taking up space on your shelves, then it’s an investment that is continually depreciating.   So it’s just good business sense to try to liquidate all of your winter wear in the spring.   Plus there were a few designs that we weren’t planning on doing anymore so it was my task to try to move what few odd sizes we had for those designs.   I did a fair job of it, but I really can’t take all of the credit, the convention attendees didn’t show up to the show with empty pockets and they really appreciated that we were cutting the prices on the merchandise that we were not going to be doing another print run of.

     So for the most part, Saturday was a blur.

     The end of the night came at around 7:00 p.m., I guess, and we stayed till the very end because stragglers were still picking stuff up.   Joe, Alex and I had dinner at the hotel.   All they were offering was a really limited, overpriced menu, so I just went with the buffet.   The buffet wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t very good either, but it was hot and it was food and I was grateful.   At least the service was really good.

     Over dinner Joe and I had a chance to talk about the future direction of our business arrangement.   We had a chance to talk about the next couple month’s worth of shows and have a back and forth about how I’m going to ease into handling the t-shirt and convention end of the business for him, allowing him to pursue the development of new business and to free up his time for developing new merchandise and following through on the lucrative toy development and pursuing licensed merchandising opportunities.   It’s comforting to have found someone to work for that is just as ambitious and energetic and enthusiastic about what they do as I am.   I’m sure that Joe is just as grateful to have found someone that’s just as much action as he is talk and that’s willing to do whatever needs to be done regardless of the time or lack of sleep it takes to get it done.

     Part of the discussion of the direction we’re moving in is that I really need to get a passport so I can do the Rue Morgue Festival of Fear in August.

     We’ve also both been procrastinating on getting me business cards so I can pursue new business and close the wholesale deals that I start when I’m out at the shows.

     It’s also inevitable that eventually I’m going to need an expense account since I will be booking all of the road shows that Joe authorizes and I’ll be making my own accommodations and travel arrangements.

     And soon I will be moving to Long Island.   Joe and I had been having back and forth conversations about this since January.   I told him that this is what I want to do for work in 2008 and I drafted up a proposal with four or five different possible scenarios with a cost breakdown for each scenario.

     At first we weren’t sure if the business would support my relocation to Long Island and we were discussing a variety of complicated arrangements which would allow me to continue doing what I do without getting fired every month from some random full-time job I’d be holding down in Rhode Island when I tell them that I have to take off for four or five days to go work a horror convention.

     But now, thankfully, we’ve worked things out where I am going to soon be taking over the nuts and bolts of the Fearwerx t-shirt business.   I will be receiving and fulfilling incoming orders, running the MySpace, drafting e-mails, handling customer correspondence, maintaining an inventory for the warehouse, as well as booking the tables, hotel rooms, and travel for conventions, and recruiting local hires to help work the booth in exchange for some merchandise and a little bit of folding money.

     I don’t have any delusions that it’s going to be my business though.   I’m still going to provide Joe inventory reports for review and a recommended order for the screen printer for review and will submit logistical breakdowns for each convention before I lay out for them with the expense account.

     But that’s the difference between what I do and some other vendors.

     Some vendors show up and they don’t have any real sense of what they’re doing.   They buy a couple tables and they show up with their wares and they cross their fingers and hope it’s a good show.   If they make enough to pay for their tables and their hotel room by the end of the weekend and have a little money to buy drinks with, then they think it’s a great show.   These people are good people, for the most part, but it’s tough to know whose opinion to trust when they say that a show is “a great show!”.

     I think the difference is that Fearwerx has a bigger picture mentality.   I think that it helps that we were fans before we were salesmen and we treat people the way we’d like to be treated and we’re genuinely concerned about trying to make sure that people are happy with the merchandise that they buy from our tables.   I think it’s because we know that there’s nothing worse than buyer’s remorse.

     Not that I’m trying to turn this into a superluminal advertisement for the company I work for.    This is just the kind of conversation that I invariably end up having with any of the other vendors that I spend time with when the vendor room is closed and we’re kicking back and hanging out and having a few drinks.

     Speaking of which, after dinner Joe followed me back to the hotel and we shook hands and parted ways.   I stopped in my hotel room and took a shower and pulled on a new shirt and headed back to the host hotel.

     I found Rebeccers and Suzanne just sort of leaning against a wall in the lobby.   I was really hoping that the Friday was a false start and Saturday’s lobby party would be like last year’s lobby party but it was just more of the same.   Hotel staff in blazers posted at every entrance/exit to the lobby stepping in front of people and hassling them about their bottles.   It more than kind of sucked.   Not that I’m into drunken ridiculousness, but last year our crowd was well-behaved for the most part so I don’t get what the strictness was about.   Someone theorized that it may have been because the hotel had changed owners and therefore policies, and someone else theorized that the stricter security was because of the scene that an infamous a*****e had caused, stinking up the place like a fart in a car.

     Either way it sucked.

     I brought my brown bag, full of Amaretto and sour mix, but I forgot my empty Gatorade bottle to mix it into semi-inconspicuously.   I cursed my luck, but Rebeccers and Suzanne said they might have a spare cup in their room so we went up to get me straightened out.   Up in their room I poured up a cupful of Amaretto Sour and while we were up there Brendan from Stubby DVD called Suzanne and told us to come up to the Stubby DVD room.   We headed up to the eleventh floor.   There were a few dudes sequestered up there hanging out with pizza and “party favors”.   Jimmy from Stubby DVD has become an acquaintance of mine from the convention circuit.   It’s not like we call each other every week, but we toss e-mails back and forth and enjoy talking about how fucked our society is becoming and sharing our concerns about our country’s inevitable progression to the “Brave New World” of “1984”.   It’s amazing and quite a relief to know someone that I can talk to about all things Orwellian.   It’s like everyone else is just asleep.

     That being said, I’ve never really had the chance to get to know Brendan and it was nice to have the opportunity.   We discovered that we’re both Neurosis fans.   The girls tittered inclusively at our effusive enthusiasm for Neurosis, but being a Neurosis fan is something you either get or don’t get and it’s great to recognize someone else that gets it.   Brendan tried to set up Times of Grace and the accompanying Tribes of Neurot CD but the TV’s CD player and the in-room CD player had different pre-play delays so we couldn’t really get it right.   So although we really tried to arrange it, the end results were disjointed and unsatisfactory but I was nonetheless pleased because it was the first time I had the opportunity to listen to a Neurosis CD accompanied by its accompanying Tribes of Neurot CD.

     Anthony from Toetag called me on my cell phone and said something like, “Where are you?    I don’t recognize anyone in this lobby and it kind of sucks.”   So I said I’d be down in a second and excused myself from the hotel room and headed down to the lobby.

   I called Anthony and told him I was out smoking and he found me out there.   Bill Zebub was around, attending unofficially, as in he didn’t have a table but he was there to make the scene anyhow.   And how could he not with his big lion’s mane of hair?   He’s such a chaotic whirlwind of unpredictable activity I had to be careful not to burn his hair when he’d wheel around and almost bump into the burning tip while acting out whatever he was talking about.   I mentioned I was being careful not to light his hair on fire and Bill thought I wanted to light his hair on fire.   I have fun hanging out with Bill but I can only handle so much chaos and confusion so I announced I was cold and I was going back in.

     I found an empty seating area and Anthony and Matt from Toetag dropped by and we had fun talking amongst ourselves and just watching the scene.   Not that there was a lot to watch.   People would stop by and talk for a while and then break off and rejoin their core groups.   Rebeccers and Suzanne joined us after a while and I felt really bad to say that I was bored and they agreed.   And I’m the kind of person that hates people who complain about being bored.   And don’t give me that s**t about, “If you’re bored then why don’t you make your own fun?” because, really, if there’s no one really game in the room, then if you try to strike up some conspiratorial troublesome fun then you just look like an obnoxious a*****e.   It’s like getting all liquored up and running around yelling, “Look at me!   I’m a drunken cliché!”

     I finished my drink and went into the men’s room and mixed up another Amaretto Sour on the counter, looking around, over my shoulder, to make sure that there weren’t any hotel staff around.   That was lame.   I shouldn’t feel guilty as an adult of the legal age refilling my beverage of choice at a horror convention.   It made me feel like I was in high school again.   I’m a bit old to feel like I’m sneaking booze at a high school prom.

     As if the blazered hotel staff intercepting well-intentioned attendees wasn’t bad enough, our little group is sitting relatively quietly and relatively sober on three couches around a center table, talking amongst ourselves.   Anthony and Suzanne have the toes of their shoes on the edge of the table and one of the hotel staff gestures at them to put their feet down and they do automatically, being the relatively polite people they are and then a second later they realize what a condescending attitude the hotel has adopted towards us this year and they out their feet back up.   Seriously?   When I’m at my parent’s house they don’t tell me to take my feet off the furniture.   Because they know if you’re going to put a coffee table in front of a couch it’s going to do double service as a footrest and they’re more worried about my comfort than preserving the condition of their coffee table.   Way to make us feel unwelcome, hotel staff!   It’s not like the table was hand-polished mahogany either.   It was cheap-o pre-fab wrought iron, bolted together with a big, thick glass center which would invariably get scratched up given enough time.   It was just insult to injury and it made us all kind of resentful.   Thankfully Mike from Icons of Fright came by and he was on a tear.   That kid’s a one-man show.   It wasn’t so much that he came by and we all talked with each other.   It was more he was a living performance art piece and we stabbed in words edgewise.   I mean that in the most complimentary of manners.   I’ve really got to figure out how to spend more time with Mike and Rob from Icons of Fright at the next Monster Mania.

      The exhaustion of the day finally caught up with me and I regrettably announced that I was heading back to my hotel to rest up for the Sunday.

     I ran into Art fro Ultra Violent and Jill from Lixx on the way out and had a brief conversation with them.   It was great to see Jill in a good mood because I know that the last few shows we had done had kind of been disappointing and I knew that if our booths did well then hers must have done well also.   I would have loved to spend some time with them, but I wasn’t lying when I said I was exhausted and I again excused myself.

     At the hotel I showered and read some of the Joe Jusco cover issue of Sirens of Cinema and passed out.

     I woke up just before Joe called in the morning.   He was going to get breakfast with Alex but since I was up I said I was just going to go to the show.   We both thought the show was opening at eleven, I think, but I wanted to be there early just in case.   Turns out the show opened up an hour earlier than we though it was going to, but thankfully I was already there, and I hopped between the two booths.   Not that I was able to be very efficient, but at least I was there.

     Joe showed up shortly after and the Sunday was business as usual, if just a little slower.   I had the chance to talk with some of the people that I had met quickly the two preceding days and got some of them to write down their MySpace information so I could follow up with them after the show.   Not that I want everyone I meet at shows to be my new best friend and confidant, but I’m always looking for people interested in helping out behind the booth and recruiting at the show we’re planning on returning to soon just makes sense.

     Rebeccers and Suzanne showed up around noonish and they took over my booth so I could take a pee and smoke break.   When I got back Joe asked if they wouldn’t mind staying behind my booth so I could watch his side while he took off and had a few meetings with people to develop new business.   I replied that I wanted to check with them first and, when asked, the girls said they were having fun working the booth and wouldn’t mind hanging out and working the booth for a while so I got behind Joe’s booth and Joe took off to do whatever it is that he does.

     I couldn’t quite find my stride working Joe’s side of the hallway.   He had grids and mannequins set up on the table and they got in the way of my eyeline with the customers and I think I missed some people because I couldn’t see them.   Another problem was that I’m very precise about how I set up the merch behind my booth so I can find everything quickly.   I put all of the girl shirts on one side, boy shirts in the middle, work shirts on the other side and hoodies under the tables in the boxes.   It’s just a habit I developed since my first show and it’s how I do things.   Joe’s stuff was all over.   Not that it was chaotic.   All of a certain design was in the same place, but I had trouble figuring out where stuff was.   Thankfully it was slower than Saturday or I would have been skinned and slaughtered standing dumbfounded.

     Joe came back and went off to grab lunch for him and Alex and asked me if I wanted anything but I declined because I knew that if I ate anything it would just weigh me down and slow me down.   Joe looked at me incredulously as he so often does when contemplating just how little food or sleep I operate on.   All I need is some energy drinks, a cigarette every now and then, and a pee break every few hours and I’m golden.   I’ll eat some hot food and get some sleep at the end of the day when the vendor room is closed and I’ve got the time.

      While Joe was away, the girls were doing a great job.   I wasn’t so much checking up on them as enjoying the opportunity to get an outside perspective on how my booth looked and how it was operating.   I never really get to see myself in action.   Maybe someday I’ll borrow Rick Laprade’s pro-sumer handi-cam and set it up so I can watch myself in action and see if I’m actually awesome or just an a*****e.

     The girls were also doing a great job of promoting my book and I overheard them direct a fair amount of people over to the booth across the way to meet the author, but not a lot of them did.   One guy who did brought over a couple of the promotional postcards that the publisher sent me and asked me to sign them.   I was cool with that, but when I asked him if he was going to buy a copy of the book he said he wasn’t going to.   I didn’t understand that, but I wasn’t resentful.   Anyone wants me to sign anything I’m cool with that as long as it doesn’t require my credit card number.   So I signed one card for him and one for his father.   His said, “Hey (guy’s name)!   Cool meeting you at Monster Mania!   Buy my book!” and his dad’s said, “Hey (dad’s name)!   You’ve got great genes!   Read my book!” both with my blocky intentionally legible signature on the bottom.   Kind of ostentatious, but really, read my goddamned book!

     When Joe got back I asked the girls if they’d be cool if I took a walk around the vendor room since there were a couple things I wanted to pick up.   They said they were having fun working the booth and I could take as long as I wanted.

     I got into the main vendor room and did the walk-through.   I kept getting caught up at the booths of the people I met the previous two days.   Since they were behind their booths, they were in pitch mode and I good-naturedly weathered their pitches.   I’m sure that must be what it’s like when someone I met comes by my booth and when polite conversation runs thin and I catch them checking out the merchandise with that lingering look the conversation turns to merchandise and prices and deals for them because they’re cool.   I don’t feel badly.   They understand.   At least they seem to understand.   And it is kind of cool to get to be friends with people that are selling cool stuff.   I don’t pay for a lot of stuff at the conventions.   I don’t try to chisel anyone, but when you become friends with someone it’s a little awkward to switch back into the roles of vendor and consumer.

     I made it a point to stop by Anthony Amplo’s table.   At the last Monster Mania I asked him if he could put together a Ray Bradbury Theater boxed set.   He said that he had some episodes, but he didn’t know if he had the whole series and he was hesitant to put out a set unless it was complete.   I replied that I didn’t care if it was complete as long as it had all of the episodes that I remembered.   The Shatner episode and the Jeff Goldblum episode with the wonderfully double-entendre-able title, “The Town Where No One Got Off”.   He said he would do some research and get one together for the next show.   Unlike so many people that say they’re going to do things then don’t, Anthony remembered and on the first day I told him to put one aside for me because I would definitely be coming by to pick it up.

     I stopped by and they had two left.   Anthony let it go for ten bucks and I was genuinely grateful.   A guy came up during the transaction and I know he heard Anthony let the set go for ten bucks, so I joked that I got a deal because I married Anthony’s daughter, implying that I’m family.   I have no idea if that guy has a daughter.   I usually don’t engage in prevarication but I didn’t want Anthony to get locked into selling the set for ten bucks just because he hooked me up and that’s just the first thing I came up with.   Anthony thanked me later because whatever I did, I closed the sale with that other guy and I just shrugged and smiled and said, “Well, it’s kind of what I do.” and went on with whatever I was doing.

     Speaking of cool DVD guys, I was getting a couple of the chairs from my booth out of the way when I saw a Black Flag ‘Slip It In’ Live DVD on the table of the guy to the right of me and I reflexively picked it up and said, “Cool!”.   The guy behind the table said, “What?” and I replied, “Sorry.   I just saw this Black Flag DVD and I kind of tweaked.   I’m a bit of a fan.”.   The guy said, “You want it?   Take it.   Your boss takes care of us.”.   I’m not one to try to angle for free stuff but he didn’t have to tell me twice.   I said, “Thanks!” and that made my half-hour.   Sometimes it’s good to be the Fearwerx guy.

     I stopped by the Stubby DVD table and talked with Brendan for a bit.   I told him that the only grey market DVD I’m really looking for is “Begotten” and he said he’d seen it but it’s just a bunch of fucked up imagery and that God slits his wrist in the beginning.   I told him that I’d get on burning a copy of the Charles Bukowski Tapes by Barbet Schroeder from a rare VHS set at this rare independent video store in my home town and if he could send me a copy of “Begotten” in return I’d appreciate it.   We agreed and I moved on.

     I kept getting locked into the pitches of the people I met over the weekend and I didn’t want to be rude and say, “I don’t want to buy what you’re selling.   I just stopped by to say hello and check out your booth in a friendly way, but I’ve got to be moving on or I’ll never be able to actually make it around the room.”   But I can’t just say that and I don’t think people realize that their pitch isn’t working.   They just switch into auto-pitch.   I hope that I’m not like that.

     So I just got to kind of walk around the outside edge of the vendor room and then got back to my table.   But at least I got that goddamned Ray Bradbury Theater boxed set that I had had my hopes set on for a year.   And let me tell you, first thing when I got home I popped in the first disc of that boxed set and it was just as good as I remembered.   Although the Shatner episode really didn’t age well.   That kid is so annoying and Shatner is so wooden it’s like watching Noh theater.

     The Sunday slowed down as it invariably does and I started to take down the display.   It was pretty easy.   If the Sunday had been as busy as the Saturday I literally would have run out of stuff to sell.   As things stood it was just a matter of putting the shirts and hoodies and toys back into boxes and deconstructing the grids into their parts.

     Joe had Adrian and Christy, two cool locals, help us out.   As full of piss and vinegar as I am I had trouble keeping up with Adrian.   That guy reminds me of me ten years ago.   God, I must be getting old when I find myself putting sentiments like that in print.

     I had a chance to talk to rockabilly Mike while breaking down.   That guy is ultra cool.   I had met him at the last Monster Mania and we became fast friends and I made it a point to give him a holler whenever I saw him over the weekend.   I don’t know how the conversation got onto Henry Rollins, but it turns out that we’re both big fans and I promised to burn him a copy of “Human Butt” and he promised to burn me a copy of something I didn’t have.   No offense Henry, but you’ve already got a fair amount of my money.   I’m sure this little trade won’t hurt your finances that much.   I’ll still come to the live shows, big guy.

     The breakdown was pretty smooth, I guess, and we ended up with two half-full mini-vans on the way back.   We made good time back to Long Island and Joe settled me into a Holiday Inn across the expressway overpass from the warehouse and I spent some time reading Sirens of Cinema and decompressing until I was able to fall asleep.

     The next morning I wake up to my cell phone’s incoming text message indicator beep.   Joe sent me a text apologizing for just getting on the road.   It’s 9:30 a.m. and I text him back that I’m just awake and aware and I’ll be up and out soon.   I re-pack my backpack and stride to the front desk.   The lady at the front desk is trying to sell me on a frequent lodger discount membership plan and I was checking it out in the hotel room and thinking about asking about it anyway so I let her run her schtick and set me up in the system since it doesn’t cost anything.   But she’s taking too long to get me processed and it’s Saint Patrick’s Day so she’s wearing on of those stupid f*****g green Cat in the Hat hats with a big glittery shamrock on it and I’m quickly getting annoyed about the whole scene because I really want to get out of there and get a jump on the day.

     I get out of there and I try to stop at the 7-11 to pick up some energy drinks and beef jerky but the parking lot is jam-packed so I just roll on.   Bad start.

     I get to the warehouse and I’ve got the key so I unload the minivan.   I finish and go outside for a cigarette and while I’m out there Joe pulls up and turns around and rolls down his window, gives me a droll look and says “I forgot to pick up Paul.    I’ll be back in a few.”.   I just laugh.   I know how he feels.   I could use a few days of snacks and naps too.

     I go back in and start to unpack the boxes.

     It took me a little time to really get into the flow.

     There were quite a few new designs and I had to move some stuff around to make room for them.   Plus once I had an empty box I just packed the stuff that I knew would be going to the next show into that box.   Actually I ended up filling up four boxes with stuff that I knew would be going to the next show.   One box of discontinued shirt designs and three boxes of hoodies.   I didn’t want to try to pack the whole show because I knew that we would be splitting the next set of shows.   I’d be driving down to Baltimore to handle Horrorfind and Joe would be flying to Indianapolis to handle Horrorhound.   So I didn’t want to pack all of anything.

     Joe showed up with Paul and they unloaded Joe’s minivan pretty quickly.   Joe made sure that there was a plan in place to make sure that I’d be able to get back to Rhode Island that night then took off to design some card art for something or other.   I was too tired to remember.   Paul and I made short work of the inventory.   Since we didn’t bring any work shirts to Monster Mania we didn’t have to count those.   We were quickly able to figure out which inventory numbers hadn’t changed and which had so we burned through the inventory in a couple hours.

     Paul took me to Cheeburger Cheeburger for lunch.   That place was cool but the menu was too goddamned busy.   I don’t need to see a list of all two-hundred ice cream flavors.   For that matter why do you really need two-hundred ice cream flavors?   A couple dozen should really suffice.   And you don’t need to have two dozen different cheeseburgers with different names for every half ounce you add to the patty.   And I am definitely unamused with your little story about how the cheeseburger was invented.   Save that cutesy s**t for the website.   I just want a cheeseburger and some cheese fries and a peanut-butter cup malted milkshake and I want it without having to read your entire goddamned menu to figure out what I want.   Okay, I was a little underslept and cranky, but still.

     Paul got me to the train station in plenty of time to catch the train and just when I finished my cigarette the train pulled up.   Despite the loud conversation of the idiots in the booth next to mine I managed to fall asleep and I freaked out when I heard the overhead announce Penn Station and I leapt up and swung into the closing doors, but we weren’t underground and it was daylight and I was all confused and there was this calm, kind-looking guy who saw the whole thing and I said, “Penn Station?” and he smiled and said, “Next stop.”.   I thanked him and went back and sat back down and made it a point to stay awake.

     We hit Penn Station and I make it up to the street and I go down to 32^nd Street and I’m crossing from Eighth Avenue to Ninth Avenue, I think, and there are these two loud a******s in their Saint Patrick’s Day green and one of them reads the design on the front of my hoodie and yells, “Dawn of the Dead!” then “George Romero!” and I’m a little annoyed, but at least they recognized that it was from the Romero version.   At least there’s hope.

     I’m kind of lost, but I just head north up Ninth Avenue and hope for the best.

     There are lots of crosswalks and stops and just when I think I’m going to have to ask for directions I see a sign that says, “Bus Depot”, and I cross the street and get into the building that I figure is the place.   I find the information kiosk and ask how to catch the Peter Pan to Providence.   The Rastafarian in the booth tells me I have to buy a ticket from the Greyhound office and they’d tell me what to do from there.   I go over to the Greyhound office and it’s 6:05 and there’s no way I’m making the 6:00 to Providence so I’m gonna haveta take the 6:15 with a changeover in New Haven but it’s going to be, like, ten bucks cheaper, but I’m going to have to get a move on to catch the bus.

     I grab my ticket and find the right gate and get in line and the bus driver that barely speaks English is yelling about how he doesn’t have any more room and everyone is going to have to wait for the next bus.   This really f***s my plans up because now I won’t be getting in until, like, midnight.   One of my room-mates is really nice, but he’s an idiot and probably staying at his goddamned girlfriend’s house in Boston, and my other room-mate is half Irish so he’s probably going to be out and about and incapacitated drunk so I’m kind of fucked for a ride when I get back but thankfully there are always cabs in Kennedy Plaza.

     So I’m stuck in Port Authority for the better part of an hour waiting for the next bus and I’m getting really annoyed and there are pigeons inside the building and the people all around me are kind of dull-looking and funny-smelling.   And by funny, I mean bad.   Not that I’m a paragon of awesomeness at this moment either.

     When the bus finally arrives I’m so relieved to get on the bus I don’t care.

     The ride to New Haven was uneventful.   No movie this time so there was less for people to b***h about.

      When we get to New Haven I get off the bus.

     As soon as I step off the bus there’s a K-9 cruiser parked in the next space and the dog leaps against the grid and starts barking its nuts off and it almost literally scares the piss out of me.   I though I was going to get my f*****g head bit off.   Val Lewton would be proud.

     I ask the bus driver when and where the Providence bound bus is going to come in and he apologizes and says that he doesn’t know.   He’s from New York and he only piloted our bus because the first bus got oversold.   I know it’s not his fault so I wander into the station.   There’s a guy with a clipboard and he’s shouting at a line of people coming into the station with luggage.   They shout their destination and he shouts their gate at them.   I figure that’s how it’s done here so I walk towards him and say, “I’ve got a variation on a theme for you.   Providence!”.   He looks at his clipboard and looks confused for a second then says, “That’s a bus.   I don’t know the bus schedules.” and turns on his heel, ignoring me.   Oh f*****g well.   I’m preparing myself to spend the night in the New Haven bus and train depot and make it back to Providence the best I can the next morning.

     I’m pretty pissed so I go outside to have a cigarette.   Another greyhound bus pulls up and everyone gets out and the bus driver lingers around outside so I walk up and say, “Pardon me, sir, are you by any chance going to Providence?” and he smiles and says, “Yes.   Providence!”.   I reply, “Well let me stub this out and we’ll be on our way!” and as I lean down he says, “You’ve got time to finish that.”.   Excellent.   Headed to Providence with enough time to finish my cigarette.   Things are looking up.

      I give the guy my ticket when I’m finished my cigarette and I climb in and get into one of the first rows of seats so I can see the exit signs as they come up so I’ll know where we are along the journey home.

     I settle in and fall in and out of sleep.

     A bout halfway home this woman behind me answers her cell phone and she starts to narrate the ride to her friend on the phone.   The lady doesn’t have a very good grasp of the English language and the person on the other end of the line must either be hard of hearing or have an even worse grasp of the English language because the lady sitting behind me says everything twice.   “We just pass exit seventy-three.   No.   Yes!   We just pass exit seventy-three!   What?   No.   Yes!   We just pass exit seventy-four.   What?   No!   Yes!   We just pass exit seventy-four!   What?   No.   Yes!   We just pass exit seventy-five!”.    After about ten minutes of this I’m ready to turn around and punch this woman’s lights right the f**k out.   I don’t hit women, but I’m losing my f*****g mind listening to the inane squawking of this woman.   Thankfully before I kill her with my fists of fury we stop at Mohegan Sun and she gets off the bus.   I seriously don’t know what I would have done if she rode behind me all the way to Providence.

     The rest of the ride to providence was truly uneventful.

     At Kennedy Plaza I get off the bus and walk over to the line of cabs.

     I lean over next to a cab and ask, “Are you for hire?”.   The cabbie replies, “Did you call for a cab?”.   I reply, “What does it matter?   Do you want the fare or don’t you?” and he unlocks the door and I get in and he takes me home.   My half-Irish room-mate is shut in his room with the TV on too loud and the other guy is gone like I thought he would be.

     I drop me bag and change out of my clothes into my sleepy-time t-shirt and sweatpants and fish out the Ray Bradbury Theater boxed set and toss in the first disc.   I watched “The Crowd” and “The Banshee” and skip past Shatner in “The Playground” when I remembered how much I hate the little kid in that episode, but fall asleep during the episode starring Drew Barrymore.

     It’s a few days later, and I’ve had a chance to unwind.

     Looking forward to the next show, Horrorfind, Baltimore!

 

About Scott Lefebvre:

 

     Scott Lefebvre has been doing conventions for Fearwerx [ www.FEARWERX.com ] since July of 2007 and is proud to be the 2008 Fearwerx International Convention Manager.

     Scott Lefebvre reviews books and his reviews have been published in a number of in print and online publications, most predominantly on Icons of Fright.

     Scott Lefebvre’s first book, ‘Spooky Creepy Long Island’ is available from Schiffer Books [ www.SchifferBooks.com ] and his next book, ‘Spooky Creepy Buffalo’ should be finished and available from Schiffer Books in Spring of 2009.