Worldcon 2025: Prologue.

Today's the big day - well, the day before the big day, but still. 

It's 6:00 AM, and I'm waiting to board the Amtrak train to Seattle, ready to spend the next five days at Worldcon, the annual World Science Fiction Society convention where the Hugo Awards are presented.  I'm a bit conflicted, to be honest. On one hand, this is a unique experience, and I'm very excited to have the opportunity to attend. On the other hand, the current rift between Canada and the USA makes travel across the border a bit of a political statement, and a lot of people have cancelled trips like this.  On the gripping hand?*  Everything was booked and paid for last November, long before the current situation developed, and to be honest, I'd rather not lose my money.

Surprisingly, the bus is actually a faster option than Amtrak rail - notably so, with the bus taking three hours and 45 minutes and the train logging in at four hours and 25.  However, the train has other advantages, not the least of which is that passengers go through US Immigration while still in Canada, which means if there are any issues, you can't be detained, only refused entry.  I don't anticipate any problems, but my wife has read too many cautionary tales on the internet for us to ignore possible complications, better safe than sorry.

However, things have changed since my last train trip to the US.  Shortly after crossing the border, there is a brief stop so that Immigration can check our documents again - and now we're on American soil. The inspection announcement is stern:  while the agents are on the train, passengers will not leave their seats, will not use the rest rooms, and will not use electronic devices. 

Fortunately, it's just a quick passport check by a polite Immigration agent, they collect our entry forms, and we're back on our way, actually arriving at King Street Station a little bit early. 

I leave the station and hike up to Pike Place Market, where I temporarily stash my luggage, and do a bit of shopping at Golden Age Collectibles.  I top up my assortment of genre buttons, then head up to the street so that I can scout a route to the convention center and register, hopefully avoiding a lineup tomorrow.

The Summit Convention Center is an imposing structure, conveniently located a straight five minute walk from the Westlake Monorail stop.  Once inside, there's a bit of a line for registration but it's not too serious, only a few people have decided to pick up today - presumably tomorrow morning will be a LOT busier.  The age spectrum is skewed a bit older than I expected, there are more than a few white-haired attendees in line.

A friendly volunteer registers me, and I collect my badge, along with a couple of ribbons (apparently ribbons are a Worldcon thing).  That's all there is at this point in the process:  program guides and souvenir books won't be available until Wednesday morning.

Back to Pike Place, where I collect my luggage, and trudge up to my VRBO booking, about a kilometer and a half north.  Checking in goes smoothly - it's not a large space but well set up, and really, all I need is a place to sleep and shower, with the kitchenette being a welcome convenience for morning tea and breakfast. It's not very close to the convention center, but it's a relatively short ten minute walk to the Space Needle monorail terminal, which, as already established, is just five minutes from the Center - I'm all set.

I'm really not sure what to expect in the morning.  Media coverage of events like San Diego Comic Con has left me with the impression that large fan conventions are like feeding time at the zoo, as my mother would say, but I'd also like to think that the Worldcon crowd is going to be a little more genteel than their comic book cousins.  

In my mind, this is a bit like a geek Pride Week. Admittedly, in the age of the internet, being a science fiction and fantasy fan is not the lonely experience that it was when I was a teenager, but there's still a certain feeling of isolation that comes with the territory, and as such I can't help but think that this is going to be a validating experience.

Ultimately, it's going to be a wait and see situation  - but I'm confident that it's going to be a good five days. 

- Sid

* This useful term is taken from The Gripping Hand, the sequel to The Mote in God's Eye, by Jerry Pournelle and Larry Niven.  The two books detail humanity's first alien contact - the aliens in question are asymmetrical, with two arms on one side, and a larger, more muscular arm on the other - allowing them to have look at one hand, the other hand, and then, to wrap the question up, the large gripping hand. Coincidentally, Mr. Niven is on several of the convention's panels.