Thursday: Oral surgery. Euw. Owies. They pumped me full of drugs and I spent the rest of the day in a witless stupor, alternately trying to clean the computer room closet and dozing.
Friday: Great Mouth Pain and the realization that the IV I had the day before left a HUGE nasty bruise on my right arm. Frantic packing for the convention on percocet. Got to the convention less than one hour before I was due for my security shift. Made the amazingly stupid decision to accept a post in front of the dealer's room. Spent from 2 till 6pm high as a kite telling people, "No, you CAN'T take that big ass bag in there and NO you can't leave it sitting here unattended... did you sleep thru 9-11 and the homeland security act you moron??" Ate something unrecognizable so I wouldn't pass out. Honestly can't remember what I was guarding from 7-8pm. Passed out before 9pm.
Saturday: Convention plague breaks out. This year it's two nasty strains of stomach flu. I didn't get it. Go me! Put on the Boogiepop Phantom outfit and hid in it for the entire day. Still high as a kite on percocet. Checking badges and bags while letting people get photos of me is an interesting challenge. Almost as hard as finding an elevator that isn't so full that getting on is intimate contact with at least five other random people in DIRE need of a toothbrush. Can't go more than five feet without hearing someone shriek "BOOGIEPOP! Boogiepop stop please! Photo kudasai??" Manage to find and buy a stuffed Ein toy (cute dog from Cowboy Beebop) for Cambion for Valentine's Day since we haven't had ANY awake time together. Get treated like absolute trash by some lowly Chili's restaurant manager when I complain that our food never arrived (while trying to get some dinner with my diabetic friend and his wife). *cry* Cleverly dodge being drafted for another security shift that night. Get revenge on all the photo people by doing unto others.
Sunday: Erk. So. Tired. Mouth hurts. NOT on percocet because I'm sick of being so high I can't remember more than "Badge please?" Suspicious baggie of white powder is found in the lobby men's room. Hotel staff calls ALL local authorities AND a hazmat team and we get to evacuate the entire floor... for a freaking bag of baking flour. Manage to escape guard duty for the last four hours of con and watch the convention medical staff get swamped with victims of the convention plague. Smoke most of a pack of cigarettes while reminiscing with a couple of other veteran security staffers about past convention disasters.
I'll put up the pix as soon as I can get them off Cam's horrible newstyle digital camera.
(The latter of course would not include Snake's thong and would require some bodybuilding if I wish to wear the stealth-suit. 
)
