#barfleet

(pictured:  One of Pi-Con’s past mascots, checking out the news in the Con Suite)

Pi-Con celebrated its last get together this past weekend at the Sheraton Bradley in Windsor Locks, CT.  It’s a small convention that almost perfectly encompasses everything I like about Science Fiction Conventions, and its closing has in fact prompted me to create this Tumblr account.

It was the first convention to hold “Panel in the Pool”, a staple of several Northeast conventions, including Arisia and Lunacon.  I think it’s the first in the area to appoint a different mascot every year (erm... the first one was a dead frog in a jar they found in a panel room).  And it was of course the first convention I ever got laid at -- I offer many thanks to whomever started the concept of throwing “How to flirt/get laid at a con” panels, as it gives attractive women the sudden agency to shamelessly hit on me with strong intent (this is not something women are disallowed or dissuaded from doing normally at a weekend like this, but panels like this seem to present an opportunity for the interested to actively practive the art).

Pi-Con also claims the mantle of being one of my first experiences with Barfleet, a group of geeks who take it upon themselves to throw very, very good parties at conventions  from the Midwest to the Northeast.  This year, their signature drink was The Infamous Hurricane Irene.  Four years ago, the convention took place during that very storm, the seventh-costliest hurricane in United States history.  It’s a testament to the community nature of this kind of convention that the majority of this con’s members braved the ravages of nature to come together.

Other parties included LI-Con’s Latte and Egg Creme bar; the Broad Universe ladies showing off their literary wares; Arisia’s assortment of finger-food pizzas, cheesy poofs, and hummus; and yours truly, who with another member of the Regional Burning Man camp “Radish” put on a soirée wherein we made bloody marys, flavoured coffee liqueurs, and the dry ice and grain alcohol powered Northeast nerd delicacy known as Rocket Fuel.  Lest you think all our parties are booze-fests, know that I mixed up some dip and had an obscene amount of chips and finger foods, as well -- the really great thing is that the combination of drinks and snacks kept this party at a shockingly high value of interesting and intellectual conversational discourse, in contrast to Barfleet’s sardinesque-yet-comfortably-intense dance floor (I approve of that vibe, too, being one of their bartenders, internally known as a blue-shirted Medical officer).