I leave work, drive the car to the train station and take the train into town.
I walk to a “New York deli” and order a “half Godfather.” I think, “Because everyone needs one,” but I do not speak this to the man taking my order.
I walk into the bathroom. Someone has vomited in the sink. I am mesmerized by the putrid odor and the perfect chaos of the vomit. It is all in the sink. None on the ground or anywhere else to be seen.
I take my sandwich and walk to the convention center. I eat on the way. I attempt to avoid spilling marinara sauce on my pants.
I meet two members of the Jones family. We decide to wait in line to get into the exhibitor hall. The line snakes around the building.
We wait in line and admire the costumes. I don’t think at the time to start taking pictures of cosplayers.
We make our way into the exhibitor hall and directly to the TARDIS.
We then wander.
I take my picture with Dwight Schultz, who, I find out later (via the Internet), is quite conservative politically.
I then take pictures of some other cosplayers I see wandering around.
I make a pledge to take more pictures over the next couple of days.