improbability: tequilacon 2009
It all seems so unlikely is what I think as we make our way north, so improbable that I should be in this car, with these people, driving through the New Mexican desert. I can remember back when meeting people on the Internet was frowned upon as a bad idea, they were certainly never people you’d want to become friends with in real life, much less take a road trip with. Yet here we are, fitting together so well that when someone (I don’t recall who) made the first sandworm reference, the rest of us jumped in without missing a beat, asking if we’d packed any thumpers, complimenting the fit of each other’s stillsuits, knowing our ways as if born to them: like some variation on the Kwisatz Haderach, we were from many places all here at once.
* * *
TequilaCon itself is even more unlikely, a time and a place where people from all over descend, a flash mob gone terribly right. And I forgot that it always goes right, and I don’t know why I don’t remember this when I first walk into the courtyard, remembering when I’d called the venue months ago and the woman on the other end of the line assured me that the Pink Adobe would be incredibly busy on Saturdays in April but they were still the place to go if we were going to have a large group of people. At first glance it looked like it would be big enough, and we were the only ones there, and I started to let myself breathe a little, but anyway we mentioned to our waitress that there would probably be thirty of us altogether, and as everyone knows by now she shrugged and said, “well, let me get your drinks, and then we can set up the big room upstairs, the one with its own private balcony and a shower, just in case.” Improbable, but there it was. It always works out right.
People started arriving right on cue, and I always wonder about what the venue thinks about these events. Where did they all come from, and then where do they all go? The New Mexicans were too laid back to check IDs or else they might have wondered about how this first batch alone represented New York and Atlanta and California and Florida. Good Lord, do you think they’ll be coming back?
It’s a smaller group this year, which is fine, because if there’s one thing I always kick myself over after TequilaCon it’s the people I wish I had spent more time talking with, and this year I intended to make up for it in spades. The Black Dragons were strong and the air was scarce, but I remember the first part, meeting Rachel and Robin and Sarah in short order. Karl and I go way back at this point, and Diana and I were finally formally introduced, and Poppy knew how this all worked already and signed up for the first tattoo. I ducked out onto the patio to enjoy one of my fake cigarettes, and by God I need to learn how to just graciously accept a compliment one of these days because Dawg dropped one of the best ones on me I’ve had in a while.
Things get a little fuzzy as we move on, but I remember waving at Colleen and Brenton from the balcony, and I was headed down the stairs to see if anyone was lost when Ren and Marty walked in, and I found myself telling my blog’s origin story to Wayne a little later. I think this is probably when Sir dropped in, and I was relieved because less than a day before it seemed he wasn’t going to make it, but everything works out right, however unlikely. I was so accepting of the improbability of the whole night that while it gave me a moment’s pause when Dustin walked in, I moved to the acceptance stage right away and got in place to distract Jenny, as smoothly as if we’d been practicing the whole thing for weeks.
We even had an honest-to-God Canadian this year, and finally Scott showed up and I wandered over because I felt I should say “Hello,” and I clammed up because I thought how am I ever going to match wits with this guy? and I probably would have just stood around dumbfounded but thankfully he’d brought Susan along, who was gracious enough for the both of us, and I think I might even have gotten invited over for Texas barbecue before the night was over.
I don’t think I’d believe any of it happened if I hadn’t been there myself.
But I was, and it was a riot.
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