Dragon*Con: Day 1

After seven and a half hours on the road scarfing down novelty Chex Mix flavors and narrowly avoiding high-speed solicitation citations, we're finally at Dragon*Con central in Atlanta, safely nestled in the bosoms of the crack whores outside our hotel and the undercover cop in the lobby who watches them whenever he wakes from one of his many naps. In a word, paradise. In another, sheer terror. Of course, the full horrors haven't yet begun. Today was just for pre-registration badge pickup, and, as such, everyone's flying at half ass. Even the furries looked at their freshly unfolded fox costumes, said "fuck it", and just slapped on the tail. We're looking forward to the kickoff of the Skeptrack tomorrow, where I'll finally, hopefully, touch and/or sniff James Randi's beard. We may or may not snap a candid photo of Michael Shermer's bicycle-toned posterior. Depends on how freaky we're feeling. But for now, it's time to slowly digest the hummus and beer we consumed at the Skepchick meetup down the street. Tonight, we shall dream of our skeptical heroes, our sense of community, and all those barely restrained breasts that grace each and every geek con.