Real life intervened, and cszego ended up spending the early part of today on the East Coast (as in Halifax east) for very, very good reasons which could not be avoided. Which meant a change of plans -- I became the person who would ferry boxes with Ben, and unpack them at the convention. Still, good to go.
I woke up this morning to the sounds of my youngest son being ill. My father is recovering from what his doctor thinks is a borderline case of pneumonia, and I desperately did not want him to be exposed to yet another illness, but he and my mother came anyway, because they babysit when I work; obviously school was going to be a no-go. My son ran a fever all day. He was only violently ill once. =/.
And, to those of you who don't know me, I will now confess that I am what would kindly be called 'geographically challenged'. So Ben and I are in the car which was expertly packed by someone who was neither of us, and we a) miss Yonge street because we were b) talking about Final Fantasy: Advent Children. But the dealer's room doesn't open until, oh, 7:00 p.m., and it's just past 2:00, so we're good.
We find the hotel, but sadly, our first turn-off is rudely interrupted by the big "Do not enter" signs. It's a road, isn't it? (I should also add, for the sake of context, that I do not drive. As in: I don't have a driver's license. This leads to amusing misunderstandings because most of the directions I give are based on how I would get someplace -- but walking and one-way streets don't always make this easier for the poor sod who is being given said directions.)
So, we back out, and we hit Queen street, and we turn right on Bay, and we -- yes! -- easily find the hotel driveway and parking lot. Except, of course, that the loading docks and the parking lot are not the same thing. So because I am sitting under the heaviest box in the car (because really, who wants to go back to the store for a second trip that consists of -one box-?), Ben has to jump out and ask for directions. We get the directions. The road to the loading dock is, in fact, South of the hotel.
So we take the road that's South of the hotel and it leads down... into the wrong parking lot. Yes, the road that we want is actually -2 exits- South of the hotel. Luckily, there is gas in the car. At this point we have driven around the block several times, so it will come as no surprise that we finally go down the correct ramp, where we get stopped at the bottom, tell the man with the clipboard that we are here for a convention at the Marriott, and drive toward the loading docks. The loading docks for the Marriott are not actually labelled. Or if there was signage it was behind the garbage dumps and the part of a truck that didn't move the entire time we were there. This would be fine if every other loading dock was labelled. Sears was easily visible, and Canadian Tire. The Ryerson elevator had a small grey sign that you'd see on the inside of, well, a school. However... other people are also arriving, who obviously came prepared for both the drive -and- the arrival.
But we did manage to snag something that had wheels on the bottom, and we did empty the car (and Ben's back is probably not going to be speaking to him for a week). And, of course, I discovered that it was in fact that time of month -.-. No, I wasn't prepared. Why do you ask?
So now I am at home, I have put my younger son to bed. I am watching the Tylenol clock, and I am about to embark on the evenings' writing. I won't be at the convention tomorrow; I will be there all day Saturday. If for some reason you're there and you actually don't think there's any danger of a) contagion or b) me (I was perhaps slightly frazzled today), stop by and say hello.