May 14th, 2001 Miscellaneocon There were several other conventions and pit stops, but not too many as exciting as the first few we had gone to. For example, at the Conacon Pavillion, we were swindled out of 4 of my wallets, Two of Timb's nipple rings, and one of the tires from my Ford Focus. We put on the spare and left before we lost our shirts. Then there was Deafcon 5, which SO wasn't what it sounded like it was gonna be. These people were in some big cult or something. No one spoke, and they seemed to communicate through hand signals. Timb yelled "Pay attention to ME!" and like, 3 people looked. It was weird, and there wasn't an ounce of nuclear material or schematics anywhere. I was so bummed. Special Olympicon was like a miniature Olympics going on inside this warehouse. The only difference we could find was that all these supposed "professionals" really sucked. Timb got into it and won, I don't know, like everything. They gave him a medal and held his hand up and said really slowly and loudly at him: "We are SO PROUD OF YOU!!!" and "NICE PANTS!" and oh yeah "WE LIKE YOUR STUDDED COLLAR!" Timb was beaming from all the compliments, and it was hard to tear ourselves away. We really fell in love with all those guys, and they liked us, too! Timb had to peel the Bronze winner off his leg before we could go, and he cried and cried. I mean Timb, Timb cried. Titanicon was just this guy, and that boat. One of the sorriest ones was Titanicon, which sounded from the pamphlet like it was gonna be huge, but it was just this old guy in a room with a model boat that he didn't make. Still, the boat had a ton of detail, and the guy let us snap a picture. It carried on into the early evening like this, me gassing up my car with the remaining Pabst, Timb going through wallets and seeing if he looked like any of them. He looked like 2 of the guys and 3 of the girls, so I let him have their driver's licenses and credit cards, in case he wanted to start a life of crime. Alas, the time came to head back home so I could catch my flight back to my homeland. The memories of my lifelong dream coming true would have to last me into NJ, the home of me, and everything else that's mostly uninteresting. Time to morph from this free-wheeling, fun-loving, devil-may-care man back into a parent-serving, mess-making, bed-wetting boy of about 6, who can't wipe himself. It was time to visit the parents once again. You, too, can visit the parents, next week! < Back   Home > All content © 1999-2007 misinformer.com.