I am pleased to report that I have posted some notes on "Skyborn," the second chapter of Lost Tribe of the Sith, my new e-book available free from StarWars.com and from Amazon. And I'm ecstatic to report that the exodus from Comic-Con International: San Diego is ongoing — that I'm not in it!
Don't get me wrong — I do enjoy San Diego a lot, and regret not getting out there this year; I'm planning on it for next year, for sure, presuming that Star Wars Celebration V, which Steve Sansweet spoke of at the televised panel, doesn't interfere. It's the getting back that's the problem. I was going there for work every year through the 1990s — sweet deal, usually — but then there was 1999.
Oh, the show was fine. But the company had a penchant for booking us on ridiculously early flights — which would deposit us, with the time change, with additional time for networking. That first day ran well into night, and I was so wired on caffeine I considered sleeping in the bathtub so as not to sleepwalk out the Marriott's 17th story window.
One exhausting show later — that was the big Pokémon year, so I was doing both comics and games duty — we were theoretically winging our way back early. But a woman in a wheelchair collapsed in the skyway before we could board, delaying us for an hour — and then the Chicago flight itself got rerouted to Denver because of mechanical problems. By this time my coworker — usually very stoic — was on his last nerve, and as soon as the doors opened, he bolted on a long run to the other end of the longish airport in hopes of catching the last connector out. He ran track, so it was a good ten minutes before I caught up — only to find him railing angrily at the counterfolk and refusing to take any of their make-goods. I slipped through the gawking crowd, smiled gently, and quietly took my ticket and hotel pass, slinking off a bit amazed that I was the calm one of the two of us. No one would have bet that way!
My coworker found his way out later, though he'd missed his chance at getting his luggage back that night — and the day after we finally made it home, he promptly resigned from the company. I guess he liked travel even less. I wasn't that bad off — though next year was the first San Diego I skipped, and in the past 10 years, I've only gone three times. It's always good to let your patience recharge!