Not only is
Bouchercon over (Has been for like two weeks, dude. Pay attention.) but these
recaps are coming to a close. Below are my thoughts of things that didn’t
happen in panels, in no particular order.
The new system for
dispensing free books rules. This was far and away the best method I’ve seen
yet. I come away from most Bouchercons with nothing new to read from the free
assortment. This year I drove home with nine books. (The Beloved Spouse let me
have three of her tickets.)
In another feature
I first saw in Indianapolis 2009, the continuing conversation did not fare as
well. This is a wonderful idea and fun for everyone involved, but its marketing
was insufficient—I was unaware of it until arriving at the conference—and the
location needs to be more in the flow of things. Keeping it on the Fourth Floor
away from everything but the Green Room meant no innocent foot traffic ever
wandered by, saw what was going on, and stayed. Let’s hope future planners see
the value of these, but display them more prominently.
The elevators at
the New Orleans Marriott are unlike anything I have ever seen. ‘Nuff said.
Possibly the best
decision we made all week was to have dinner with John McFetridge and his
lovely wife, Laurie, on Wednesday before things got frantic. Things did get
frantic later in the week, and it was great to have time to sit and talk with
them. Of course it was John’s idea to do it early, but I was smart enough to
agree with him.
Speaking of food, I
highly recommend the Chartres House. We made a deal not to look for any
frou-frou restaurants and eat at local—well, local joints. We did very well.
The Chartres House was excellent in a relaxing atmosphere. Lunch at Mena’s was
outstanding both days. (Po’ boys for me; muffelatta for The Beloved Spouse.)
Mother’s was exactly what we wanted, and going to Café du Monde for my first
beignets was perfect. For a man who planned to eat pretty much nothing but red
beans and rice, the varieties of said delicacy were outstanding everywhere we
went.
Speaking of food, I
saw something I dare say few, if any, of you have ever seen: Lee Child getting
chicken in Popeye’s.
Friday evening was
an adventure both before and after the Shamus banquet. On the way there in a
cab with The Beloved Spouse, Peter Rozovsky, and Absolutely Kate PIlarcik, I
managed to lose my wallet in my pants. I feel almost as laden as a paratrooper
when I go to Bouchercon, carrying glasses, keys, wallet, cell phone, business
cards, notebook, pens, mints, and change; with at least ten pockets, 5.11
tactical pants are perfect for me, and they never look bulky like cargo pants.
Problem is, when I got into the cab I had my wallet in my hand and had to crawl
into the back of a minivan. I put the wallet in a front pocket, forgot it was
there while giving directions to the cabbie—who did not know how to get to a
hotel three blocks away—and the damn pants hold things so discretely I never
felt the wallet in the unfamiliar pocket. A couple of frantic minutes ensued as
I crawled all over the floor looking for it. I was about to run back to the
Marriott to see if I’d dropped it there when my hand brushed against the
mystery pocket and the evening was saved.
Upon returning to
our room we found the temperature to be 80 degrees. The Beloved Spouse called
the front desk and requested maintenance. Receiving an affirmative answer, she
said I should go on down to the bar if I wanted. I took my time, not wanting to
be too obvious about wanting to get there while there was still beer left.
Walking past the thermostat, I noted the temperature was now 81 degrees.
“That’s your body heat,” she screamed. “Get the fuck out!” This tender display
assuaged much of my lingering guilt over leaving her there. True romance such
as ours is hard to find.
The party at House
of Blues was great fun, even though we couldn’t stay long. They could have
renamed the Voodoo Room the Womb, as that’s the only other place I’ve ever been
that was as hot, humid, and crowded.
There’s never
enough time to see everyone you’d like to see at Bouchercon, nor to spend as
much time as you’d like with those you do catch up with. The trick is to make
the most of those you do get to see. So, in addition to the organizers, I like
to thank the following people for conspiring to make this probably my best
Bouchercon of the seven I’ve been to: Scott Adlerberg, Eric and Gretchen
Beetner, Jim Born, Rob Brunet, Rebecca Bush (at least that’s the name she’s
going by now), Eric and Christy Campbell, Colin Campbell, Joe “Eight-Page
Letter” Clifford, Jacques Filippi, Ian Graham, Michelle and Tommy Isler,
Stewart and Debbie Laidlaw, Terrence and Rita Ramirez McCauley, John and Laurie
McFetridge, Craig and Emily McNeely, Tim O’Mara, Scott Parker, Dale Phillips,
Jeff Pierce (bonus points for us recognizing each other this time), Absolutely
Kate Pilarcik, J.D. and Lynn Rhoades, Peter Rozovsky, Charles Salzberg, John Shepphird,
David Swinson, and Lance Wright. I know I left some out; no offense intended. Considerable
amounts of Bass passed through my digestive and urinary systems.
I’ll see you
all—and then some—next year in Toronto, eh?
7 comments:
Happy to read your closing thughts, as they sometimes overlapped but more often paralleled mine. Believe me, those elevators are going to spark crime stories. I told a friend once I got home and she immediately came up with a great title, which unfortunately I can't share in case she wants to write it.
I think I might be a party of one about the book bazaar, even though it worked out well for me. But I wondered how people who arrived later in the week fared as to choice.
I think really good advice for Bouchercon is to be aware that you have to seize the moment even more than usual there.
My two big regrets are first, that I didn't meet Absolutely Kate, who I was in quite good touch with virtually awhile back. And second, that Lee Child and I weren't at Popeye's at the same time. By now, we could have been besties.
I also had good luck with food near the hotel: The Palace Cafe, where I had dinner with Seana, and Mena's Place, where I had lunch twice, including with a group that included Dana. I didn't go out of my way to look for good food, but I found it, just as I didn't go out of my way to look for good music, but I found it.
That was the best of my nine Bouchercons.
Yeah, I should have stuck with the Palace Café, Peter, because it was good and a nice atmosphere. I think that my favorite food was the Soho spread of shrimp and grits. They were even thoughtful enough to have a make it yourself variation if you weren't up for shrimp. I'm actually sorry I didn't cheat and go through the line twice. On the other hand, I was able to speak with Mick Herron, who was standing there giving out chances in their lottery and tell him how much I admired his Slow Horses series.
I did return to the Palace Cafe one further evening when I needed a quick meal, and I don't think I ate anything better than the andouille-encrusted fish I ate the night we went. But I don't regret visiting other pleas. Discovery is fun, whether of music or food. The only indifferent meal I ate was a quick lunch near the hotel before I left for the airport, but I'd call that a permissible exception. And Ali, Mike Stotter, and I ate a late meal at an IHOP Monday, if you can believe it, which was fun in its own way.
I heard the IHOP mentioned in the closing speeches, as the last resort of a vegan, so I am not as surprised as all that.
Come to think of it, I ate a salad there. It wasn't bad.
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