Once Upon A Conference: Part 1

Now that I’ve finally ended my seemingly neverending tour of American airports (and after flying through some horrendous weather at the mercy of pilots with an obvious and disturbing penchant for steep dives), I can finally sit down and write my take on what can only be described as an incredible conference. This post is long, but hopefully it’s entertaining.

Friday night started poorly (due mostly to the first pilot with a death wish). I finally –and nearly literally– drop out of the sky onto Reagan National’s tarmac an hour and a half late. I take a cab to the hotel, drop off my stuff, and go down to the concierge desk, where I try to explain to the well-dressed-yet-barely-English-speaking personnel that I need el cab-o to go to el bar-o for some beer-o. He introduces me to someone with an unpronounceable Middle Eastern name, who assures me with all the smoothness of a Saudi oil tycoon that I will be safe in his cab.

I spend the next twenty minutes being hit on with such phrases like, “You are a sweet girl.” (I wonder what he’d think of me if I told him my thoughts on his religion.) My host earnestly “swears upon Allah” that he will take me to the airport for free when I leave DC. I have to admit: Hitting on tourists while they’re in your cab is an ingenious strategy. Captive audience and all that. It’s not like I could demand to be let out of the cab on the next corner.

Twenty dollars and a grudgingly accepted business card later (his, not mine), I’m finally let off at Fran O’Brien’s. I’m a bit nervous, since the only person I really know inside is Heidi. Thankfully everyone’s wearing name tags, so I march up to Carla from Some Soldier’s Mom, and introduce myself. She shrieks, grabs me in what can only be described as a bear hug, and promptly introduces me to a gaggle full of people, most of whom were absolutely amazing, and a few who I would need at least a case of beer to spend longer than 20 seconds near. And no, I’m not naming names.

The rest of the night is somewhat of a blur of meeting people, telling jokes, complaining about liberals, and just enjoying the company of a group of fellow vets, active duty military, and their spouses. Some of the highlights:

1. Chris was a short and fiery troop who recently recovered from his wounds, and took time out of his partying to tell us all in a loud voice just what he thought of the Hilton. Memorable quote: “Fran O’Brien’s does way more than just give us wounded troops a free meal,” he shouted as he raised his glass. “They give us…” he paused, his voice breaking slightly. “Just tell your family and all your friends to boycott the fucking Hilton!” That brought a loud cheer and many gulps of beverage.

2. A Marine officer named Taco wore a kilt. There is a photo floating around somewhere that captured the look on my face when I realized he was…shall we say, authentic. Homefront Six, I know you have it, you brat. Email. Taco (and his mom) were adorable–and incredibly funny.

3. Captain B, another Marine, was an absolute gentleman. Oh hell, I can’t even say that with a straight face. (There’s really no such thing as an “absolute gentleman” in the Marines anyway.) He was rowdy, loud, and completely delightful. I enjoyed the time he spent chatting with us (Do Marines ever really “chat”, though?). In all truth, he was just a great guy who made us laugh a lot.

4. Steve Schippert from Threats Watch and I had a great conversation about blogging, the military, and liberals in general. He’s an incredibly intelligent conversationalist. I’ve been a big fan of his for over a year now, and it was fantastic to talk to him in person. He’s also (sadly) got the same type of humor as me.

There was more (there always is). But it got late, and I finally got back to the room with Heidi about 4 am. Toni from Bear Creek Ledger was sharing a room with us, and she was long asleep by the time our partying butts walked in. I went to the bathroom to change into the PJ’s, and spilled change from my pocket onto the floor.

“No big deal,” I thought. “I’ll get it in the morning.”

Of course, “morning” was literally 2 hours later. Bleary-eyed and feeling like I’d been run over multiple times with a cement truck which then dumped its payload on my face, I took a shower and piled into the cab with the rest of the ladies. I downed a Mountain Dew or three, and in about an hour I was feeling like my old self.

Once we get there (yes, I know I switched tenses again….go with it), Heidi and I set up our laptops at the front liveblogger table. A funny thing began to happen. People started coming up to me and introducing themselves by saying, “So, I hear you came in at 4….something about change on the bathroom floor…” I wonder how they all found out. (Crazy Publico, when I questioned him about where he would have heard such a preposterous thing, rallied nicely by saying, “Oh, no one told me…I read it on the men’s bathroom wall.” For the first time in quite a while, I had nothing to reply with. I did, however, shake his hand for it.)

LaShawn Barber sat next to us at the liveblogger table, and she is just adorable! Very sweet woman. We didn’t get to talk too much, since we were both busy typing away, but she was quite personable.

There were several disconcerting things about the conference, however, and I would not be my typical, loudmouth self if I did not mention them. (Andi, darling, please take these as the jokes they are meant.)

The first was the fact that the video feed was broadcast up on the front wall of the conference itself. For confident women like Heidi, this probably wasn’t a second thought. For self-conscious chicks like me, however, this is terrifying. There’s nothing worse than having a lifesize reminder that you are a wide-backed slouch staring you and hundreds of others in the face all day long. Thanks for the self-esteem boost. I’m now in the pit of despair, and the inky blackness is closing in.

The second bad idea was to put the chatroom up on the big screen next to the video feed. Allowing military bloggers with laptops and sharp wit access to the chatroom was like giving 8-year-olds cherry bombs and letting them loose in affluent neighborhoods. Most of the time I was able to contain myself after reading their hilarious –and usually somewhat related– but distracting banter. However, Heidi was not so fortunate. During a moment of seriousness in the Blogging From Theater panel, audio listeners were almost certain to hear my co-blogger’s snorts as she tried to stifle her giggles at the shenanigans on the huge screen above. Her accidental piglet impressions earned her an odd look from Captain B, who had to be wondering why we were grinning like Cheshire cats even though we were blogging about very serious things. It was a good release at times, though, since some of the panelists’ stories were intense and emotional. There were times I needed to see the peanut gallery’s contributions.

By the way, I will never be able to hear the word “commando” again in the same light. Not ever.

The panels were fantastic. Entertaining, informative, and really insightful as well. I learned a great deal and I’m sure that those watching did as well.

There was a lot of fun and laughter, but overall there was also a sense of urgency, of having so much work to do and not enough time to do it. Most of all, there was a feeling of solidarity and camaraderie. Under all the bantering and pointed jokes, there is a love that surpasses all of our different locales and backgrounds and differences. We all have served our nation, and that fact made it incredibly easy to befriend others there, to share things with them, and to listen as they shared as well. It was truly like being with family. We as military bloggers have an incredible responsibility, and it was heartening to see that we’re not just lone voices in our own corner of the wilderness. We are a team that grows constantly, and we believe in something bigger than ourselves. I believe the military blogging community is capable of great things, and is doing great things right now — NOT because we are anything special on our own, but because we are special as a team and as a force that refuses to let our troops be slandered.

Many, many thanks to Andi for her tireless dedication to making this happen. If you’ve never visited her blog, do so. Andi was the first military blogger I ever talked to, way back when I first started blogging. She showed me the ropes, introduced me to some of the other blogs around, and encouraged me to keep writing during those early days. She is an incredible writer, an absolutely adorable person. She’ll laugh at this, but she reminds me very much of Audrey Hepburn. Andi is pure class.

I’ll be writing one last part to this, and it’s about the second day, which in a way was even more important to Heidi and I than the first. Stay tuned.

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