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If it’s a good con, I mean a REALLY good con, Sunday, the last day of the con, is a strange day. It’s like you’ve been woken up from a really, really good dream and you’re not quite awake yet and you can still remember the dream but you’re not IN the dream any more and you’re dreading getting up and going to work. Everyone is walking around in a daze, bloodshot eyes, more often than not hidden behind dark sunglasses, as they do what I call the “zombie walk”, stumbling around groaning their goodbyes to newfound friends and old friends they only see at conventions.
By Monday you’ve almost forgotten the dream entirely at your mundane job, but then a smile will creep across your face as you flash back to that party with the four girls wearing little more than electrical tape dancing amidst a ring of drummers in a crowded hotel room lit only by bursts from a strobe light. Or maybe you’ll be at lunch thinking your stomach hasn’t fully recovered from the two days of alcohol and finger food. Or maybe it’s Monday night that brings it back when you're falling asleep in front of the TV at 8:30 because you didn’t sleep a wink all weekend.
For me it’s the red welts on my hips and stomach from the whip the 5 girls used on me at the cam girl panel that brings the images back to mind, but that’s just a personal reminder...
Fantasm was fan-damn-tastic.
I’ll be doing a follow-up report when I track down some of the millions of pictures shot by the technogeeks there, as well as interviewing the organizers to see if they broke even and are looking to try it again next year. Stay tuned.

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