Day 1: Monday, February 10th
Getting to know you

I wasn't quite ready for the SuperShuttle van (I was in the restroom, actually), and the driver, thinking I wasn't home, was pulling away as I opened my front door. So my 10-day vacation started with me yelling and chasing a van down the street at 5:00 AM.

Beautiful.

I was off to Los Angeles, the land of sunshine and warm breezes (reputedly), armed with a new digital camera which I had gotten to know a little better at the U.S. Figure Skating Championships a few weeks earlier. I had never been on a cruise before, so really, all I had to go on were old episodes of The Love Boat. But those don't count, since I long ago forcefully purged them from my memory.

I always take a novel to read on flights. This time, it was Godengine, by Craig Hinton.

The travel agent found me a roommate, bless her. I was paired with David Cornell, who was a good roommate both on the ship and at Gallifrey One, and a big help with dealing with cruises. (In fact, David was amazed to find that he was the "cruise veteran.")

The cruise was headed for Catalina Island and Ensenada, Mexico. Without really knowing what everyone else was doing (since we weren't meeting until that evening), and fearful that the shore excursions would fill up fast, I signed up for things I couldn't easily do in Dallas: kayaking and boating in Catalina, horseback riding and the blowhole in Ensenada. (Yes, that's correct. Blowhole. I'll explain later.) Around 5:30 PM, we all went through the mandatory lifeboat drill.

We sailed on the Carnival cruise ship Ecstasy. I don't know anything about boats except that they should float and miss icebergs, so I can't tell you how big it is. It was big enough for me, big enough that I needed a map to get around, and it held a whole bunch of people.

The Ecstasy was sort of like a tiny knock-off of Las Vegas at sea, except that the slot machines were actually confined to the casino. The moment I stepped aboard, my senses were swamped with neon and bright colors everywhere. I actually had trouble walking up and down the stairs, sometimes, due to the fact that my eyes couldn't tell where the carpet on the floor ended and the MTV-auditioning colors on the wall began. There were more lounges than Bill Murray could have possibly sung in, and each one had enough neon to keep the ship afloat if it struck something. And, as I mentioned, there was the casino. There was also a spa, a gym, a jogging track on the top deck, ping-pong tables, a pool that was closed, and many other things I'm probably forgetting.

All the food was paid for in the initial fee, so we could eat all we wanted, 24 hours a day. (As the constantly-on-a-sugar-high cruise director yelled during the first day, "You're going to eat so much, you'll come on as passengers and leave as cargo!") Coffee and orange juice were also free. Alcohol and soft drinks, however, had to be paid for additionally, and I realized as the cruise went on that a lot of their money is made from people who sit in the casino at all hours, or who just sit at one of the many bars and stay schlozzed during the entire cruise. I don't think this was the majority, but there were enough that I noticed.

There were about 20 Doctor Who people on the ship, including the guests. I had kept up so little with who was actually going to be there (I was busy, doncha know?) that I had simply assumed our guests were going to be identical to Gallifrey One's: Peter Davison and Colin Baker. That should teach me to assume, but it probably won't.

We shared three tables in the Windsong dining room. At dinner the first night, Peter Davison walked in with two lovely women whom he claimed were sisters. I believed him. I even asked the one who sat down next to me if she was Peter's wife. (Go ahead and cringe now, it gets worse.)

A short woman sat across from me, and I did a double-take because she looked a helluva lot like Deborah Watling. I glanced again at the woman sitting next to me, and a sneaking suspicion began to wash over me that part of me was still chasing that stupid van and I hadn't caught it yet. I leaned over to David and whispered, "Is the woman sitting next to me Mary Tamm?"

David just grinned and said, "Yeah."

I turned to her and said, "I'm so sorry, I didn't recognize you." I explained to her that I'm poor with faces and can only recognize people by their hair (which is actually true), and that I hadn't expected her to be on board. She was gracious, though, and David came to my rescue, bless him. And she is very lovely and still looks relatively young.

That's when I learned the woman with her was Lauren, her daughter. Peter had been joking when he said they were sisters.

Lesson for the day: don't believe everything Peter says. He is funny, though. He revealed that the cabin steward had asked Mary and Lauren if they wanted their beds pushed together, because he had assumed they were lesbian lovers. Lord only knows how Mary took that one.

I didn't realize until later that that meeting with Peter was my first ever with any Doctor. Colin Baker was not there, as he was appearing at Gallifrey One only. Along with Deborah, Mary and Peter, we had as a guest Bob May, who played the robot on Lost in Space.

Also on board, as both Doctor Who guests and fans, were authors Keith Topping and David A. McIntee, along with David's wife Lesley.

We gathered in the library later that night to make all of our evil plans (or something). Dan Harris, the Doctor Who cruise guru, always conducts a writing workshop, with which David and Keith were to help. Those who wanted to participate would write their stories, get David's and Keith's help, and type up their final versions during the "Fun Day at Sea," which was Thursday. We planned to present the stories to the entire group on Thursday night. Having decided that, we called it a day.

For the rest of the cruise, Mary Tamm, completely of her own volition, called me "Dougie." I hadn't been called "Dougie" in years. ☺

Day 2: Tuesday, February 11th
Wet day at sea

It's raining, it's pouring, we won't be going a-shore-ing.

The same storm that flooded Los Angeles and San Diego killed our shore excursions to Catalina Island. Catalina can only take cruise guests onto their island by tenders (small ferry boats, for those who don't know, like me), and the waves were so high and rough that they couldn't moor safely with the Ecstasy. Suddenly, our writing workshop was in full gear. I'm not a ping-pong, neon bar-hopping casino type of a person, and I wasn't interested in the "Who has the knobbiest knees?" contest organized by the cruise director (no, I'm not making that up), so I joined the writing workshop.

We split into three teams, each of which was to write a short story featuring a character played by one of the three actors on board. (Dan asked the three actors in question to read their respective stories when the time came.) Jennifer Lowden and I were to come up with an idea for a story featuring Victoria Waterfield, and we were given the opening sentence, "They found it in Hong Kong." We each came up with ideas and formed a story. Jennifer wrote the main body of it while I shamelessly chatted with Keith Topping.

I also spent part of the day with Raven, who got her hands on the Battleship game from the library. We split our two games, but I won mine partially because she mis-heard one of my guesses, which should have been a miss instead of a hit. I think she then went on to beat everyone else who played her.

I chatted with Keith some more (he and I can evidently chat up a storm). I like his idea of dealing with writer's block: "I imagine what my bank account will look like if I don't write something."

I got a massage in the spa. I had scheduled it because I had thought I would be sore after kayaking and rafting. It was nice.

At dinner, the entire wait staff serenaded us with an Italian love song. The wait staff was a diverse group from all over the world, but not a single one of them was Italian.

That night was formal night. After dinner, dressed in our finest, we had a group photo taken on the atrium stairway.

We met in the library again, and the three actors helped their respective writing teams with their stories. Deborah Watling listened as Jennifer and I gave her our outline, and she really liked it. She got emotional speaking about Patrick Troughton; it was very evident how much he meant to her. She gave our story her blessing, and gave us a little guidance on how Victoria would have spoken to the Doctor in the final scene.

When I came back to my cabin, I found a walrus on my bed. Room stewards on cruise ships have the ability to turn ordinary towels into animal likenesses.

Day 3: Wednesday, February 12th
"Evil since the dawn of time! Aaaaace!"

It's raining, it's pouring, we- oh, we will be going a-shore-ing.

Evidently, the waves were a few inches shorter than the day before, so the adventurous and foolish were off to Catalina Island. I departed early, riding across the bay in rain and choppy waters, only to discover that all the water-based activities had been canceled. No kayaking, no rafting. I found David Cornell, and we strolled around Catalina for a while.

Even in the gray rain, it is a beautiful island, so I can only imagine what it must look like in the summer. The trees were strange to me. Some were trimmed (Or grew? Cut me some slack, I'm tree-stupid.) in such a way that they simply formed small flat platforms. Some of the flowers were in bloom, and clouds lolled about the hilltops surrounding the town.

There were very few cars, but almost everyone had a golf cart and a dog. I saw lots of dogs.

Very few shops were open, as the townspeople weren't expecting us. I overheard a customer chatting to a waitress in a restaurant:

"Are these people from the cruise ship?"

"Yep."

"Hmm. What are they doing here?"

The rain actually stopped for about ten minutes, long enough for me to take a few photos. Then it returned with a vengeance.

David and I ended up sheltering by a building, huddled behind a life-size plastic buffalo. It was still before noon. We noticed that the Ecstasy had changed position out in the bay quite a bit, and then we heard fog-horn blasts coming from the ship. What was that about? we wondered.

Several people whom I recognized as fellow cruise passengers (it just doesn't sound right to call them cruisers, does it?) came along. I asked them as a joke, "What was that about?"

"That's the call to return to the ship," they replied. "It's leaving."

Oh.

David and I returned to the ship, again in rough seas. I learned later that Carrie Larson's tender circled the Ecstasy three times because it suddenly couldn't go inland, nor could it re-dock with the ship, and Mary Tamm saved her group from getting wet needlessly by forgetting her Sail and Sign card (our all-purpose ship ID which we had to have at all times), causing them to wait for her to get it, and the shore excursions were canceled while she was doing so.

Me? I got massively soaked and loved it. I was in the front of the tender. Three-quarters of the way to the ship, we hit a really high wave, and the Pacific Ocean came over the side and said, "Hello!" Both there and back, I had to hold on to my "Cap of Rassilon" to keep it from blowing away. (It's not quite as powerful as the "Coronet of Rassilon," but I'm attached to it.)

Like lunatics, we all waved at the people watching on the ship.

The Ecstasy left Catalina and headed for Ensenada, and I spent part of the day with my fellow writers. Carrie Larson joined our group, so she and I went over what Jennifer had written the day before while Jennifer chatted away with others. We agonized over sentence structure and I put in some stupid jokes. Jennifer edited our editing, Deborah read it, and we were finished.

We all oohed and aahed over a battleship several miles away. Raven and Jennifer, who have each been in the service (Jennifer still is), wouldn't stop until they had identified it.

Someone came up with the idea of a filk called "Hotel Castrovalva," based on "Hotel California." Several people contributed, but it was never read aloud on the ship or at the convention, to my knowledge. (The writers sang another filk based on the same song during the cabaret at the convention, but that wasn't this one.)

Keith got nutty. He put a piece of white cardboard into his collar to make himself look like a priest and proceeded to imitate the 7th Doctor: "Evil since the dawn of time! Aaaaace!"

All in all, I'm actually glad of the storm. I had fun getting to know my fellow Whovians a little better, which I wouldn't have done during my shore excursions. And I got to save money because the excursions were canceled, which was fortuitous since I spent far too much at Gallifrey One.

At dinner, the entire wait staff performed the Macarena for us.

I stayed up late that night chatting with David McIntee and Keith in the library. Dan was there, too, but he fell asleep in his chair.

I found a stingray on my bed that night.

Day 4: Thursday, February 13th
So we go to the blowhole, si?

It did not rain on us at Ensenada, Mexico, but it was very muddy and overcast, enough so that my horseback riding excursion had been canceled. Some of us Doctor Who people strolled around the town. We saw a Mexican McDonalds and 1,458,092 shops selling crafts and souvenirs.

Taped to the window of many of the merchants' shops is a sign telling tourists not to buy things from children or to give children money, as they should be in school and giving them money encourages them not to be.

Along the sidewalks are tall square boxes with the word "Policia" on them. We all got a kick out of the fact that they could be Mexican TARDISes, but were actually public trash cans. We got a few photos of Peter Davison standing by one.

Keith Topping handed his camera to someone else – I think it was Judi – and asked her to take a photo of him and me. "Who else would you like in the picture?" she asked, and Keith and I replied at the same time, "Mary Tamm." By coincidence, Mary happened to walk out of a shop and right up to us at that moment, so we got our wish.

As we ate at a restaurant, we were serenaded by a Mexican band. Which sort of made the whole trip complete, really.

That afternoon, we finally got our one and only honest-to-goodness shore excursion: the blowhole.

A blowhole is a narrow crevice (not a hole) into which ocean water comes at high pressure and is forced upwards in a powerful spray. There are evidently only three known blowholes in the world, and the one at Ensenada is (we were told) the most spectacular.

We climbed aboard a bus at 1:00 in the afternoon and went blowholing.

I have a theory that our tour guide got paid a bonus every time she used the word si. "We are going to the blowhole, si? You could get very wet, si, and it is the most spectacular blowhole in the world, si?" She seemed like a sweet woman, but I wonder if her real voice was as high-pitched as the one she used on board the tour bus.

But by far, the worst part of her job is standing outside the cruise ship in tight jeans holding a sign which says, "Blowhole tour."

The blowhole was about a 45-minute drive away. Once there, the only way to get from the parking lot to the blowhole is to walk through the Alley of Death. (Well, not really Death, but it was a pun I wanted to use. Indulge me.) This is a long road, along which are crammed dozens of souvenir shops. All the vendors came out to greet us, to persuade us to enter their shops, in which we could buy "Mexican Rolexes," among other things. (I'm not making this up.) And, of course, you have to walk back through them to get back to the bus. One of our group likened it to the Klingon Rite of Passage.

The sun was out for the first time in a while, and the rocky coastline was very beautiful. We stood on a large balcony overlooking the blowhole, and although I would never go there again just to see it, it was well worth seeing once. It does indeed shoot the water high. One of the neatest parts for me was the whoosing sound it made right before the water came up.

Back in the parking lot, Keith and I put our faces into one of those lifesize cardboard cutouts of other people. He was the Mexican wife, I the Mexican husband. Alas, it was a short honeymoon.

Back to the ship. At dinner, the wait staff formed a conga line and invited people to join in. I know that at least Raven, Bob May, Mary and Lauren Tamm all did so. I, alas, am in the mood to dance only on very rare occasions.

After dinner, David Cornell and I strolled around the ship. I took photos of the nighttime lights of Ensenada, but it began raining again soon thereafter.

Then we gathered in the library so the writers could unveil their stories to the world! Dan also took this opportunity to hand us all our official Doctor Who cruise T-shirts.

Deborah Watling started. She read "Reunion," by Jennifer Lowden, Carrie Larson, herself and myself. Then Mary Tamm read "London Calling," by Joel Getschman, Daniel Harris, Kathryn Sullivan and herself. And Peter Davison read "Holiday at Sea," by Lora Ruffner, Judi Heath, Richard Ruffner, Keith Topping and himself. It was wonderful. In fact, it was so good that David McIntee fell asleep where he was sitting.

Then the actors sold autographed photos of themselves. Peter signed my 5th Doctor Handbooks – both the book and the DWM guide.

There was no animal on my bed that night. Ah, well.

Watching every penny, I didn't want to have a steward do my laundry because I didn't want to tip anyone. So I stayed up very, very late packing and doing laundry. Through a series of mishaps with the washing machine – including the fact that the laundromat on "U" deck existed only in the imaginations of the people who drew the shipboard map – I didn't get my laundry into the dryer until 3:00 AM. I just went to bed and returned for it in the morning.

While doing my laundry, I could hear raucous partying going on below. The crew were evidently celebrating the final night of the cruise in their own way. In the laundromat, I again met the girl who'd given me my massage a few nights before, doing her own laundry.

I had to do one final thing before we left the ship. I am a huge fan of the television show Earth 2, which is always abbreviated "E2." The font of the numbers on the cabin doors was very similar to that of the show's official logo, so I found cabin 2 on "E" deck and, at 2:00 in the morning, took a photo of its faceplate. It helped that it was only ten feet from the laundromat, and it helped further that no one saw me do it.

Day 5: Friday, February 14th
It's the end, but the moment has been prepared for

Yes, it is the end of our cruise, but the beginning of Gallifrey One.

We checked off the ship, having to go through customs because we'd stopped in a foreign country. An alarm went off just as Keith Topping walked away from the booth, but it turned out to be a coincidence. (It was a false fire alarm or something.)

A bus took most of us on a tour through Los Angeles and down to Hollywood Boulevard, stopping several times so we could sightsee. Then it delivered us straight to the front door of Gallifrey One.

We should do that every year!

The moment I picked up my convention badge, I was off to the dealers' room. The BBC has zero distribution of their Doctor Who novels to North America right now, and I had an eight-month backlog of books to buy. And I did. Every single one of them. Then I bought a bunch of photos, because I am a photograph collector. Then I came up for air and actually went to my hotel room. (David Cornell was kind enough to check us in when we were finally allowed to do so, as I was hip deep in stuff in the dealers' room at the time.)

One really neat thing about having the cruise before the convention is that at the convention, I had a whole new group of friends to hang out with, particularly the Huffners, the Heaths, David Cornell and Jennifer Lowden and Raven. That was really nice. I also got to meet a few old friends, such as Rhonda Scarborough and Platypus teammate Tom Wilk.

My first panel was "The Future of Doctor Who Publishing," which had all kinds of interesting subtext as David Howe of Telos and Gary Russell of Big Finish were both there. Moderator Paul Cornell actually did a really nice job by simply asking them both to speak up right away about the whole licensing shift, thereby bringing it out into the open and, frankly, getting it over with. Very subtle and very smart, that Mr. Cornell.

Then Peter Davison and Colin Baker were on stage together. Ladies and gentlemen, their 90-minute session was worth the price of that convention alone. Not only were they absolutely hilarious, but half way through the session, we were all treated to what has to be the Officially Best Moment of Any Convention, Ever.

They were discussing their own favorite actor who had played the Doctor, Patrick Troughton. Peter had just finished saying something along the lines of Patrick "being happy wherever he is now," reaching a quiet and nice conclusion to his answer. One second later, the "Gallifrey One" sign behind them fell to the floor.

Cue Twilight Zone theme music.

They were surprised, and the audience died laughing with equal amazement. Colin said, "That was William Hartnell!" and then got on his knees and began praying fervently, looking upward.

The sign actually fell several more times throughout the weekend, but the timing of its first fall was incredible.

It was kind of nice raising my hand to ask a question, and having Peter Davison call on me by name. After the show, David Cornell and I each got our photo taken with Colin Baker.

I stayed for Big Finish's session, then attended Opening Ceremonies and the Masque of Mandragora costume show. We had not just one, but two Leelas this year! How cool is that? Raven was a robot and Judi Heath was Lady Peinforte.

I dropped in on the League of Evil Geniuses party for a little bit before going to bed.

Day 6: Saturday, February 15th
Brinke of destruction

I actually got up early enough to attend Tai Chi. Cruise shipmate Kathy Sullivan was there, too. Then I went to Lord of the Wrongs, the Lord of the Rings panel, then got lots of autographed photos, including Julia Nickson and Andrea Thompson.

Best of all, by far, was Brinke Stevens. She is a Scream Queen, having starred in over 100 "B" movies, and taken her clothes off in most of them. She debuted in Slumber Party Massacre and was in such wonderful classics as Nightmare Sisters and Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-A-Rama. (No, I am not making that up.) She is really nice. She posed for a photo and took one with me, and I bought a poster and a bunch of her photos which she autographed.

I saw Colin and Peter on stage again. At one point, Peter spoke about the "Best British Show Ever" award which Doctor Who had won. He said that entire award show was really a stunt by the BBC to convince the public that their current programs were better than anything they'd done before, but it blew up in their face when the public voted Doctor Who as the winner. He mentioned Sylvester McCoy bringing the award to him after having it at his house for a few months, and he offered to let Colin enjoy it for a little while, also. Then he said, "Do you think we should let Tom in on it?" After a second, they both said, "Nah." Oh, it was lovely.

I hit the dealers' room again, then got Caroline Morris's autograph. At 4:00, I attended Brinke Stevens's session, then attended the Remembering John Nathan-Turner session.

Raven had had to leave that afternoon to fulfill a work obligation in another city, and would return the next evening.

A group of us from the cruise ship went to Coco's for dinner. We came back in time to get good seats for the cabaret, which was nice and funny, but not as spectacular as the two previous years.

Sadly, I did not get any photos of the Ambiguously Gay Duo.

The Ruffners joined David and myself in our room. We opened the bottle of champagne our travel agent had given us back on the cruise ship, and we raised glasses to the memory of John Nathan-Turner.

Day 7: Sunday, February 16th
So long, Douglas, and thanks for all the fish

I started the day with a celebrity brunch. Really, every day should start that way. Peter, Colin, Nev Fountain, Bob May, Jason Haigh-Ellery, India Fisher and Caroline Morris shuttled from table to table, and Rhonda Scarborough and I sat together and enjoyed them all. I had to miss Tai Chi, though.

I attended the BBC Worldwide show, then got Colin Baker's autograph, as well as autographs of various authors. It was a real pleasure to finally meet Kate Orman, by the way. I got to tell her that the scene she wrote in Set Piece, in which Ace is counting down to the moment in which she'll shoot the Doctor in a mercy killing, makes me cry whenever I read it. I think I made her day.

I saw Colin on stage and attended the one-on-one author session with Keith Topping and David McIntee. I then spent some time in the art show. I kept having to talk myself out of bidding on things.

One highlight of the day was the Remembering Douglas Adams panel. I adored Douglas Adams's Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy books as a teenager, then his Dirk Gently novels. Some of my favorite Doctor Who stories are ones that he wrote.

Charles Martin made a very moving point, and I'm not doing it justice by trying to recreate it here, but I'll try. He said Douglas Adams had had the philosophy not to talk about his stories before he wrote them, because doing so ruined them. Charles pointed out that his death was much the same; Douglas Adams gave us a good look at the future, but by telling us all about it, he didn't get to participate in it.

That night, I saw the Whooting Stars game show, which was highly entertaining. Then I stuck around for "Mysterious Theater 337: The Five Doctors." Oh...my...God. That was hilarious. I'll never be able to watch it the same way again.

I stayed up late into the night (for once), talking with people, seeing who was sitting on whose lap in the bar, etc. Raven had returned, so I chatted with her for a while. I think I went to bed sometime. I'm not sure.

Day 8: Monday, February 17th
Jiminy Cricket

I had to say good-bye to my roommate David, as he would be leaving before I returned from cricket.

I attended Tai Chi, then rode with Jennifer and Eric to the annual cricket match! This is really one of the highlights of Gallifrey One. (The cricket match part, not the riding in the car part.)

Last year, I was on the Platypus team, and we beat the Wirrn by two runs. I had assumed this year that we would split into completely different teams with new names, but Paul Cornell surprised me by saying that the two teams were still Platypus and Wirrn. I asked, "If we were on one of those teams last year and want to remain loyal to the name, can we do so?"

"Oh, yeah," he said. "If you were on one team last year, you don't have to wait to get chosen, just go ahead."

For once, I didn't have to suffer getting picked last! How cool is that? I rejoined my team as a Platypus alumnus. (Alum-pus?) The Wirrn's captain this year was Caroline Symcox, and Paul played on their team. Wendy kept score.

Like last year, it was sunny, yet muddy. Shipmates Jennifer, Jon, Judi and Mike were also on my team. We bowled first, for 90 minutes. Just before that 90 minutes was up, several people joined us, including another Platypus alumnus, Tom Wilk, who really likes the cricket match as much as I do. We each got to bowl at least once.

I batted second, going out there with Ian. I didn't do too badly. I have to confess that I was concentrating so hard on defending my wicket (because I was facing an excellent bowler) that I didn't think much about actually trying to hit the ball out of the park. But we scored three runs off one of my hits, which is one more than I scored last year. I was again reminded how out of shape I am, as running back and forth winded me quickly.

On the last bowl of an over, I tried to hit the ball hard, but instead barely tipped it. The catcher caught it, and I was out. Ah, well.

It was an exciting match. The Wirrn kept catching our hits and getting people out. Ian got out that way very early. Tom batted near the end, and he pretty much carried us almost to the finish line by scoring a whole bunch of runs. We were down to our final two batters, and we scored the winning run with just two bowls left in the final over. We had defended our title!

And I got a group photo of Team Platypus this year! I'm still hoping I can get one of Team Platypus from 2002.

I missed the photo studio session with Peter and Colin. Colin had to leave at 2:30 to catch his flight. I chatted with Raven some more, and even walked with her to the Amtrak bus stop a few blocks away, as she was leaving that afternoon.

We had closing ceremonies, and it was very sad to see everything come to an official end, although this was somewhat made up for by learning that Shaun Lyon is evidently a clone of Andrew Beech. Who knew?

The Ruffners and I went to Hollywood Boulevard for shopping and dinner, and we saw Daredevil at the Mann Chinese Theater. Back at the hotel, I had to say good-bye to the Ruffners, as they were leaving the next morning. I chatted with people for a while, and talked with Tom Wilk for about two hours in the hall before going to bed.

Day 9: Tuesday, February 18th
Shopping and soaking

Ow. Ow. Ow. My legs hurt from cricket the day before. "What is this thing called 'running?'" they asked me. "We haven't done that in a long time."

After hanging around the hotel lobby looking for something to do, I ended up going to a shopping mall with Eve, Ash, Alden, and John from New Zealand. I bought a swimsuit because I'd forgotten mine, and I wanted to soak my legs in the hot tub later.

We returned, and I was in that hot tub as fast as I could get there. Eve, Ash, Karen (?), Bret and Mary Alice were there, also. After dinner, I soaked in the hot tub for a while more, and later that night I sat in Rhonda Scarborough's room and chatted for a few hours.

Day 10: Wednesday, February 19th
Shop 'til you drop

I couldn't take it any more. On the final day, I had to sleep in. I was just too tired.

Everyone was gone but me! My flight was late that night, so I mailed a bunch of stuff to myself, then went to Hollywood Boulevard to shop. I bought more photographs. Along the way I discovered a photo shop set back from the street and a nice used book store I'd never seen before.

For the first time in four years, I visited Los Angeles without going to Universal Studios.

The Flyaway took me to LAX. Their security procedures were a lot more streamlined, efficient and friendly than last year.

I finished the novel Godengine somewhere over New Mexico.

I will definitely be back next year.