NoirCon

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I had a blast at NoirCon. I have my fingers crossed for a repeat in ‘09 or ‘10.

Crime fic writers really are incredibly warm and friendly. I’d certainly heard that, and my virtual interactions have backed it up. But still. Everybody was just great.

Like another convention I attended, the GoH had mad musical skillz. (I am amused by the image of Dennis McMillan and Ishiguro Noboru playing a duet for guitar and ukulele.)

Unlike other conventions I have attended, there was no weapons policy and the phrase “no costume is no costume” did not appear anywhere.

I was previously acquainted with some folks in that weird manner encouraged by the web. (There’s some sort of hierarchy—people whose blogs I read versus people I’ve met on message boards versus people I’ve exchanged comments with versus people I’ve had e-mail conversations with—but I’m never sure exactly where I personally draw the lines, and I’m pretty sure no consensus has emerged. Some of my inter-panel chats touched upon that subject.) I had very limited real-world exposure to anyone prior to this weekend. Happily for my insecure little self, Duane and Jon were both there Thursday night and since crime fic people really are just that friendly, everything was dandy.

The other conventions I’ve attended have been larger—in some cases, vastly larger—and have multiple programming tracks. This was not the case with NoirCon; there was the convention track, and there was the on-your-own track. I really enjoyed the coziness. (Yes, I wanted to find some way to describe NoirCon as “cozy.” Also, my red tote bag has now become a knitting bag.) At larger conventions I’m usually eager to find a way to duck out of the main action and just chat with smaller groups of people. (Nowhere is that more obvious than AWA, which I basically treat as a chance to catch up with college friends, with packs of cosplayers wandering past.) So in a lot of ways, NoirCon was programmed as my ideal convention.

I could do some name-checking or give a summary of the convention (at least chunks of it; I did the commuter thing and came in for the evenings Thursday and Friday and the day Saturday and Sunday, thus sadly missing the modeling of the iguana dress). But I am lazy and lame, it’s been several days, and a bunch of other people have been writing up the con. So instead I will merely make mention of one of the events.

Friday night’s award banquet was fabulous for all the reasons it could’ve turned into a disaster. After hanging out in the bar, where the soundtrack to The Ice Harvest played at a somewhat elevated volume, we moved into the smaller of two banquet spaces. Soon a stream of club-garbed Cambodian twentysomethings arrived and, after passing through a security check, began filling the larger room.

It is perhaps worth noting that our group was not subjected to wanding, frisking, or any other flavor of security theater. It is perhaps also worth noting that only a flimsy movable barrier divided our section from the other. This barrier was particularly permeable in light of the fact that the bathrooms were accessible only by traipsing through the other room. So it is a very good thing that no NoirCon attendees wished the audience or performer next door any ill, because for all they knew we were armed to the teeth. (And hey, it’s not like there was a convention weapons policy in place.)

The flimsy and permeable barrier did very little to muffle the sound. The music made it difficult for speeches to happen in the traditional linear, audible, uninterrupted fashion, but also provided some dinner conversation. The aforementioned GoH with the aforementioned mad skillz played on stage, so we had several truly surreal minutes of dueling Cambodian pop and flamenco guitar. I dearly wish there had been a couple dozen accomplished flamenco dancers in the audience, whose performance would have raised the weirdness quotient even farther.

I don’t normally think in terms of soundtracks, but thanks to Friday night the NoirCon in my head has one. Cambodian pop, flamenco guitar, and the Chipmunks.

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Weekend plans

Filed Under Conventions

This evening, as I was casting on a new hat, I wondered about NoirCon logistics. Should I drive, thus avoiding SEPTA hassles? Or should I take public transit and knit en route? And then it occurred to me that perhaps I should ask my cats for their opinion.

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