Gah. Look. Look at the humanity. Pressed up all at me.
Fetch me hand sanitizer and a fifth of Jack Daniels. Stat.
This is the last swell of the convention floor, right before the siren call of evening panels and the bar.
Oh God, they're going to follow us to the bar...
Yep. Despite our best efforts, we've landed in bar that seems to have denizens that are a cross between those that Patrick Bateman would kill...and furries.
You can't see the furries in this picture.
You can thank me later.
Ultimately, we arrived in our own hotel bar.
Is there anything more comforting, after a certain point? It's 10:50pm Pacific time right now. My brain thinks it's almost 2 in the morning local time. It wants to be in a place where it can booze itself into oblivion and then lay down with a minimum of difficulty after that kind of experience. Especially when contact with the unwashed masses is involved.
God, why did I leave the house?!!?
Oh, yeah. Vacation.