Corflu

People will not look forward to posterity, who never look backward to their ancestors.
-- Edmund Burke

Saturday, March 4, 2000
One year ago: Connections
Two years ago: Cacophonous

This weekend is Corflu, the second of the two science fiction conventions we are putting on here in Seattle. I wasn't on the committee for this one, but I volunteered to help out anyway. Jane was running the consuite just as she did last week, and she needed the help! I knew this would mean not participating much in the con, which was a shame since it was my first one. Oh, well, there will be other Corflus.

Corflu is a convention of traditional fanzine fans. (Corflu, the word, was a brand name for a certain kind of correction fluid used in mimeography, the repro process that fans used to use before xerography.) The general run of members is a bit older than Potlatch (see last week). The committee is smaller. So there weren't so many people to pick up the slack in terms of the work of fixing food, picking trash, chatting, and icing down the drinks. (Could it be that the Corflu crowd didn't have that helpful spirit? I hope that wasn't true.) Never the less, I told Jane that I'd be around Friday and today, but not tomorrow. Enough! I knew that I couldn't stand any more large-group socializing -- shy, introverted thing that I am.

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The main differences in the hospitality arrangements from Potlatch: we had the suite on the second floor, and the same suite on the third floor, directly above. We used that space for serving hot or substantial food -- Jane cooked some delicious lamb korma from Donya White's recipe. Glenn Hackney also brought back his k'nex and set them up in there. This worked out very well, since there was a staircase right in the hall there that worked for getting between floors, and a service elevator for anyone who was mobility-impaired.

The room across the hall on the second floor was the smoking room again, and hoo-boy! did it see some smoking, both of tobacco and of other substances. I think the combination of chain-smoking British fans and hard-partying others really made that room much smokier than it was last week. I kept popping in, but I couldn't stay long -- my eyes started to burn almost immediately.

I got to say hi to a few fans that I'd known only online before. I shook rich brown's hand early Friday evening, but I didn't get a chance to talk to him about the Heyerlist or anything else for the rest of the weekend (he joined that list not long ago). Others I saw, but didn't really converse with.

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I didn't stay at the hotel this time; I was glad to get back to my place around eleven Friday evening.

Back at the hotel around nine in the morning. I was in a steady work-groove. Ian Sorensen (Scottish fan) wanted to make sure I was having fun, and thought I was working too hard. I did appreciate his concern, but I was on duty for most of the time I was at the con, this time. I enjoyed myself, but puttering usefully was the best way for me to maintain the place. (Ian has a page of pictures from the convention.)

Come evening, I was cutting up some pita bread, to go with hummus, when I saw Jack sneaking up behind me (I saw him in the mirror). "Aw, I wanted to suprise you!" he exclaimed. We were around for a few hours after that -- the desserts were served in the upstairs consuite, and a few regular Vanguard folks arrived. I was pretty beat, though, so we left around eleven. I drove.