Bronycon 2019: A Power Ballad in the Whiskey of Sleep Deprevation in Two Parts (1 of 2) · 6:26pm Aug 6th, 2019
Or: Reason # 434 Why Razed Should Not Be Allowed Pun Privileges
Disclaimer: Much of this blog was written going off around 2 hours of sleep. There will most likely be contradictions, confusion, and grammar errors out the wazoo. You have been warned.
Are my thoughts truly worth posting? Such questions, coming from the perspective of a baseless philosopher such as myself, do not add up to much than usual social anxiety, self-doubt, and ennui that would not feel out of place spread out upon a Spanish Announcer’s Table. Hell, the very fact that I have been around the block with this fandom long enough to understand the reference says a lot about my place in the fandom. I’ve been around for a while. Not the longest by any means, but long enough that I remember the general muttering of ‘Da fuq’ when John De Lancie was announced as voicing Discord; the proclamations of ‘The End is Neigh’ when we found out Lauren Faust was moving on from the show after only one aired and one unaired (which I do not know the extent of her involvement in, but I had heard there was some). That was, what, seven or eight years ago? The train marches on. Some disembark, but others always seem to hop aboard.
It’s been five hours give or take since I hopped off the Crescent train. My knees are a little stiff and that Upstate South Carolina air still smells a little funny. Cleaner than the Charm City--the weed and exhaust stench replace by an undercurrent of choking pollen and lives constantly recalculating their routes to nowhere. A train metaphor might not be the best way to start a retrospective on Bronycon, but . . . well, I feel that represents my growth in the fandom over these last few years. That is to say, not at all. Not much progressive growth, at least. While others honed their writing craft, I sat in the background absolutely perplexed that, apparently, this writing thing takes actual diligence and effort rather than several Rum and Cokes and a magical fairy fluttering down and, with a tip-tap of their wand, "Presto changeo!" We have some random featured box 'magic.'
For the longest while, I have had no excuse but laziness for lack of productivity and general radio silence amongst the writing side of the fandom. When I was working as a bus driver, sure the hours were a bit draining at first (4am to around 5pm, generally. What breaks there were between routes were often filled with last minute field trip assignments and/or the somehow-legal shuttling of students from one county to the other), but I adapted. I was not all that tired on the weekends; no, it was merely a case of yours truly deciding that a couple beers and an afternoon spent sitting on the front porch was more important than writing. Maybe it was. Those conversations brought me both closer to my parents and closer to finding out my true purpose in life. Without those days, I might still be wallowing around my bedroom all day. NAWWAL might have been finished by now in that alternative universe, but I would be a very distant and unhappy soul. Yet I find myself dissatisfied. For a multitude of reasons. For me, Bronycon 2019 felt like a funeral bell confirming all this disappointment. The show is ending (spoilers), and so is Bronycon. Over the past 5 summers that I have been able to attend the convention, Baltimore has gone from “That Town From the Wire” to being “That Town From the Wire but The Wire is Sometimes Directed by Wes Anderson.” Someday, someone is going to make a movie inspired about us for the visuals alone. Gritty, rundown Baltimore, but instead of hood rats the streets are filled with extra large Scootaloos pulling a wagon full of overpriced Glim Glam plushes and oddly-sticky Blackjack body pillows. Just as much meth will probably be involved in the underlying plotline. Hampton Inn owners will have Vietnam flashbacks. Michael K Williams will play the role of M.A Larson and it will be as magical as it sounds.
And also like Bronycon 2019, there will be a disturbing lack of Gallus anything. My wallet thanks me, but my inner blue birb boy lover is quite bitter. At least I bought a badge. On the last day, I was tempted to buy another copy of the same badge I already had bought. Several maybe. Because I would find that funny, and if this blog has shown anything, it’s that Razed should stick to writing stories filled with never-ending inner monologues and an unhealthy amount of crippled ponies rather than anything resembling a comedy.
It is here, of course, where I would drop the bomb that I am working on a comedy at this very moment. Actual comedic value to be determined, but it has Cozy Glow.
Cozy Glow is amazing. Please direct any arguments otherwise to the nearest Church of Golly. There is still time. You can still be saved before the end times.
Getting back on track, as you can probably tell, this is not your average Bronycon retrospective. At least the beginning has not been. Mostly, this is simply because my experience of Bronycon 2019, like the other past Bronycons I have attended, was not notable amongst the masses. That is not a bad thing. Quite the opposite. I had a wonderful time this year, but I find that I always have a wonderful time at Bronycon. I could go on about the people I met, the panels I attended, the merchandise I longed to waste money on before realizing most of my merch bought in the past is sitting on my desk at this very moment, serving little purpose more than being adorbs (This is not a bad thing, but also economics are a thing, and I am approaching my final semester at college and the College of Education loves to drain me of all the money I have anyway so yay capitalism).
Without further adieu, it is on to the Retrospecitve
PART ONE: Washington DC
Unlike past years, when I drove up to Bronycon via the first two circles of Hell that are Interstate 85 through South Carolina (that’s a nice little thoroughfare between two of the largest cities in this region you have there, it sure would be a shame if we cut it down to one lane right when you reach one of the fastest growing areas of the United States. Thanks, Spartanburg County) and Interstate 95 through Washington DC (where I would literally be dancing in my car if I was stuck in stop and go traffic for only a couple hours), I decided to take the train this year. Past, unintelligent Razed had argued against this in the past because I was only having to spend around 80 to 100 dollars on gas driving up to Baltimore, while a round trip train ticket would cost around, oh, 200 dollars or so. That innocent and ignorant Razed also, for some baffling reason, had not taken the fact that parking fees for a week in Baltimore are quite high. Likewise, my good friend and eternal hotel roommate Tayman had recently moved to Charlotte. While I mourned for his purity now that he is residing in the Dead South (albeit at least in a blue oasis), I jumped for joy that we would be able to travel together. Likewise, in classic Tayman fashion, he proposed about a week before that convention that we head up a couple days early and spend some time in DC. In classic Razed fashion, I gladly accepted. Money and energy be damned.
The train ride up was better than my previous experience on the Crescent. When I had gone up to New York City on the train years ago, I got maybe an hour of sleep. This time around, I made sure to bring some diphenhydramine to knock me out and got 3 to 4 hours of sleep. Not a healthy amount, but I was blessed with missing out on most of the slog through Virginia. I fell asleep in Greensboro and woke up in Lynchburg, Virginia. Unfortunately, Liberty University was not close enough to the tracks to give a proper middle finger, so the poor Burger King had to face the wrath instead. I feel it was justified. It looked clean. Clean Burger Kings always have the worst Whoppers.
Eventually, we wound up in Washington DC. If you have ever read a book about what not to do in Washington D.C, Tayman and I probably covered those bases. DC, as expected, has the look of the north with the humidity of the south. Tay and I did not have a vehicle, so the first day in DC was spent drenching our clothes, going to a few museums, eating a couple overpriced but very delicious meal, and tempting fate by walking with bags in hand a half a mile from the metro station to our hotel. Also, apparently suburban Holiday Inn Expresses have some of the weirdest shower handles in existence. When the desk clerk decides it would be easier to walk upstairs and show you how to turn on the shower rather than trying to put the steps into words over the phone, you know your stay will be interesting if nothing else.
On this evening, Tayman and I started a tradition that would carry on throughout the convention. We hooked up a laptop, pulled up Netflix and consumed a bit of pony. Which pone episodes we actually watched are difficult to remember, so I might miss out on some or place them on the wrong date. On the first night we watched, from what I can remember, Canterlot Boutique, What Lies Beneath, The Show Stoppers , and Sounds of Silence. I could provide brief reviews for these episodes, but if one thing was consistent throughout these nightly binges, the episodes we watched were all, at least in my opinion, top quality. If there was a theme for this trip, it was kirins. Kirins are great. Autumn Blaze is the best one-off character the show has come up with, The Kirin Tale is one of the top songs, and the kirin in general have much fanfic potential. Needless to say, I spent the later part of that evening trying to bring an old Sassy Saddles fic idea I had back to life. It is looking good. Not in so far as quality is concerned, but in terms of actually getting written. There is also a bit of alternate universe/headcanon going on with this idea that I will not dispel but it is pretty stupid. I also love it. Time will tell if a fic comes out of it, but this entire experience this week has left me with more pone inspiration than I ever have had when returning from a Bronycon.
Pictured above: The return of quality Razedfic? The potential is there. Regardless, this is a good horse.
The second day in DC was sportsball day. I spent the morning talking as though I was an expert on the DC metro station system after a single ride. Rule of comedy determines that this arrogance should be followed with yours truly stepping aboard the orange line rather than the blue line, emerging somewhere around Bethesda and loudly exclaiming in a over-the-top southern accent that “This don’t look like no Arlington Cemetery to me.” Some random passerby will make a comment about how, since we are in Bethesda, we are in fact in a cemetery. The cemetery for good franchises. That joke makes no sense, as Bethesda is located in Maryland, but the laugh track would play anyway.
I am going to take a break from the jokes for a moment, because even in writing Arlington National Cemetery deserves respect. My previous experience with the cemetery had been a memorable for all the wrong reasons one. It had rained the entire time, the ambassador for Georgia (I think) had shown up to place a wreath at a gravesite conveniently at the same time my parents and I were at the Tomb of the Unknown, shutting down the tram service. Walking back in the rain, especially a humid rain, is always fun. This time around, the sky was clear. I am far from the most gung-ho patriotic individuals in existence, but I will admit that watching the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown with the Potomac and the big monuments of DC in the background gave me chills. It is inappropriate to refer to the experience as a 'fun' time, but it is worth going to. Also, the fact that I passed dozens upon dozens of kids when walking through the cemetery and yet none of them were being unruly or inappropriate gives me a little bit of faith in humanity. Weeks like these, we need that feeling.
Those vibes were replaced with slight frustration when we arrived at Nationals Stadium. The amount of sports fans amongst this community might not be very high, so I will give the basic rundown. Nationals Stadium (where the city’s baseball team, the Washington Nationals, play) is located in the Navy Yard area. From what I can gather, the Navy Yard is an up and coming neighborhood with the more affluent individuals of DC. This newness gave the area a fresh feel, but it also brought problems. To put it bluntly: there is nothing to do in that area. You can walk around, go to restaraunts . . . go to restauraunts. Check your phone to see if batting practice has started yet. Tayman and I spent a good chunk of our time in that area loitering outside of an overpriced ice cream shop, sending lewd images we stumbled upon on Derpibooru to one another. I caused him to shake his head and give up on humanity a couple time; I remained unphased. Two years a Fimfiction story moderator takes away any shock value a random pone image might have.
Somewhere between Korean tacos and Shake Shack burgers, the ballpark finally opened. While I will not go too sports fanboy-y for this blog, I will admit this is probably one of the first times I walked faster than Tayman this entire trip. The Atlanta Braves were playing. They are my team out of proximity and blood (my grandfather was a die hard fan), and also there is a bit of masochism to them. They are, like most teams in Atlanta, a team often built around endless potential that always comes up short. So, in pone terms, your average Spike-centered episode. The stadium itself is like the area of town: really clean and nice with good views and good seats, but also a little bit too clean. Also, they charge stadium prices for things like water. Beer, I can understand overcharging; ditto for soda. Water being 5 dollars just baffles me. Yes, there are water fountains around so you don’t have to spend money, but this is my blog and I, a sad southerner with a liberal arts background and no grasp on market values, simply does not approve.
I am not going into boring detail on the game itself. Balls were thrown, balls were hit, Baby Shark was played several times signaling that we are all trapped in the belly of this horrible machine and the machine is bleeding to death. Suffice to say, it was what I expected. The Braves came out of the game hot, started looking a bit shaky as the game went on, but once the 8th inning rolled around they held a solid 11-4 lead. Tay and I needed to catch a train back to the hotel before the light rail stopped for the evening, so we made our way out. It’s the 8th of 9 innings, what could you possibly miss?
As we waited for a train, Tay, being the sweetie that he is, gave me inspiring updates on the Braves easy victory. 11-6, 11-8, 11-9. The green line’s shrieking brakes did a good job of covering up my own profane wails. Somewhere between embarking the train and reaching the end of the line, I managed to convince myself that we were going to be mugged on the way back to the hotel. Tay, since I know you are reading this, I apologize for nearly slapping your face when I thought I saw a shadow rushing out of the bushes. Since I am laughing about it now, we made it out okay, but unfortunately my boundless anxiety will be a running theme throughout these blogs. I have gotten better about it, but I still have a long way to go.
In the hotel, my fried nerves healed themselves eventually after a nice long shower (my clothes will never forgive me for those multi-mile trudges) and a waffle from some local chicken joint that was admittedly pretty damn good for something probably cooked by a dude with a cigar in his mouth. Carcinogenic ashes really do tie the butter and syrup together. That night, we watched yet more pony. Sounds of Silence was probably once again one of them. I went on a long spiel about how Flutter Brutter was one of the more relatable episodes for me, then spent the rest of the evening staring into my water cup pondering what relating to an annoying and self-centered character who takes advantage of his parents’ kindness says about me. Yes, it was relatable more for the fear of failure parts of the latter points of the episode (another reason why I rarely blog or write stories), but it still made me wonder if I should text a long-winded apology to my parents for all the times in the past I took advantage of their kindness.
I wrote some more Sassy Saddles fic that evening. And by writing, I mean I copy-pasted the opening scene from a previous document into a new one, tossing in a new opening scene. It was not much progress, but it was something.
On the third day, we rose from the dead just in time to check out before the required time. After the previous night’s experience, we took the hotel shuttle to the train station. The light rail ride was of little note, nor was most of our time in Union Station, waiting for a train up to Baltimore. I was disappointed to discover that a char-grilled burger restaurant in the food court I had greatly enjoyed years prior had long since shut down. There were various local options, but being the sad southerner I am, I decided that noon time was Bo time at Bonjangles (for those not in the know, think Chic Fil A but with slightly less controversy and far superior biscuits). I spent more time during lunch giving Tayman crap about him slowly being brainwashed by the American Dirty South’s love for unhealthy food than actually chowing down on my biscuit. After all, I was still a bit disappointed that they did not serve Cheerwine from the fountain . If we could have everything we wanted, where would we put it?
But still, Cheerwine, man.
The only other notable aspect of Union Station, besides the fact that it resembles an airport more than a train station, was that there was a surprising lack of seating. Probably due to worries about homeless individuals flooding in, but I still think Tayman and I spent more time looking for actual seating areas (not just empty seats) than we did waiting for the train itself. We boarded yet another, much nicer, Amtrak train for a short ride up to Baltimore. At some point, we passed by a thin stretch of trees, and the modern office buildings were suddenly replaced by beat down row houses. As we passed by graffiti-covered bridges and an old beat-up Volkswagen beetle that I’m still not sure how anyone got down the hill to trackside, I smiled a little.
If I can be cheesy for a moment, it really did feel like I was coming home.
Stay tuned for Part 2: Alas, Baltimare or: How I Learned to Start Worrying and Loathe the Line later this evening!
Sounds like you want to have sex wit’s Gallus.
I approve of this choice.
5100829
I can neither confirm nor deny this, but yes.
I can't help but wonder if you hit the MARC or an actual AMTRAK line for the final leg of the journey.
~Skeeter The Lurker
5100830
Also you’re as exceptional of a writer as you were years ago, if not more so. Seriously, you are incredibly gifted with your prose, and I can’t wait to read anything you post. I made a promise to myself to return to writing once the finale ends since I won’t have to worry about conflicted canon.
Ah, the joys of being bisexual. Silverstream and Gallus are both good options in my book.
“But aren’t they under-“ Shh. No. Pet the birbcat and birbhorse.
5100832
It was the Northeast Regional. MARC might have been cheaper/gone through more frequently, but I just bought the tickets Tay bought since we were traveling together.
5100834
Thank you kindly! Also, it's funny: with the show's ending in site, I find myself more motivated than ever to write some horsewords.
5100837
agreed. Cause my OCD is like, you won’t have canon conflicts now unless they’re intentional. So shut up and write funny horse words!
Or perhaps Gallus/something gay words? Damn it, now he’s all I can think about. This is your fault. Don’t you have morals?What the fuck is that Cozy Glow pic? XD
>liking Sassy Saddles and Autumn Blaze
There's something wrong with this boy.
Also Cheerwine's just overhyped Dr. Pepper. :B
And I actually don’t know if Razed is a woman or not, so maybe she wants Gallus/woman. I dunno. I assume male cause men dominate here.
Doesn’t matter, I support Gallus doing non-kid approved things.
Man, if only I had the gift of memory and recap as you. My recollection tends to come along moreso in feelings rather than a flurry of specifics.
DC was rather tiring (I mean, what do you expect after walking around for seven hours after a shitty night's sleep on the train?) but good. Navigating the unknowns of a new city is a lot easier with a friend by your side, especially one with whom you've roamed through three downtowns together. Navigation, dining, managing not to fall over once your body finally realizes "Come to think about it, I really feel like shit," all were easier tenfold with you to share the experience with.
(I do find it amusing that watching pony is considered a point of note, seeing how my first few cons, very little show pony proper was actually on display. But there's something to be said about, you know, doing the thing that lead us to Bronycon in the first place.)
And uh, I had no idea you were close to slapping me on the way back. Your anxiety resonated with me though, and I was glad to keep your head straight during that fearful time.
Hm, what else...
-Glad you're one of five bronies who can talk sportsball
-One more bad wisecrack out of you while we're walking around, and we're finished
-Lol Barves bullpen
-Don't slow down in North Baltimore ~or you'll die~
-Autumn Autumn Autumn Blaze. ~
Anyhoo, loved hearing your thoughts on the trip. You have a great voice and I don't always realise the monologue you have going on in your head, even when you're right beside me. Looking forward to the next write-up.
Nice, you still got it razed. Look forward to your new stuff!
As someone from Cincinnati, I feel your pain.
5100853
Oh there's definitely something wrong with me. Mostly it's just a question if it's the good or bad kind of wrong
5100896
Yup. Far as I can tell I'm a dude.
5100909
Isn’t being bisexual amazing? Let us pet Gallus together. Get out the brush.5100906
I didn't come close to intentionally slapping you. More just a 'throw my hand back way too hard without looking' sort of thing. And, yeah, like many people with social anxiety the whole 'talking' thing is hard but the internal dialogue is always firing off. Now, get off your butt and write some Autumn Blaze!
5100907
Glad to hear from you, it's been forever. Hope things are going well, my friend. I hope I still have it story-wise.
Maximus!
5100908
At least we're not Detroit haha. It was great seeing you again at the convention!
And maybe I’m just lucky in that my clinical anxiety is more of the anxiety of the past/future rather than will I make an ass of myself, although that comes up from time to time. I may also talk a lot to cover that anxiety. Might also help Lexapro does wonders for me, so I wouldn’t feel shy at all from the convention, the amount of people who share a hobby, and talking. Drained at the end for sure from all the emotions, but no need to isolate myself. So I don’t really know what it’s like to have crippling or major social anxiety.
5100911
It was a truly pleasant surprise. There were so many people I ran across that I didn't expect to see, and it was so cool to see each one of them.
I swear to god, if you turn it into a shipfic...
5100917
For me, it manifests in odd ways. Especially when meeting new people. At the convention, I'm usually a little more talkative (the 'refreshments' that permeate the cons typically help with that), especially when it's folks I've met at past conventions, but the biggest issue I have tends to be introducing myself to new people. I've gotten better at that with time, but when it decides to be a jerk, well good luck getting me to say anything. The anxiety of the past/future, I can definitely relate to. Nowadays, that's the one that bothers me the most (I can blame closing in on graduating college for that one).
5100927
What? I'd nevvvver
5100933
Ha. I took it the day before you.
5101035
There were a surprising amount of folks who took the train to and from the con. Maybe I just haven't been paying attention in the past due to always driving to Baltimore, but there seemed to be more talk of having to "make it to the train" this year. Odd departure and arrival times aside, I'd say it was a decent experience. Definitely cheaper and less stressful than driving.
5101036
I liked it because it saved me driving, was cheaper and easier than a plane, and it saved me two nights in a hotel.
Definitely didn't get any sleep worth reporting though.
She is good horse indeed. I wish you good fortune in developing the idea.
5101057
Thank you kindly. I wish you good fortune as well in providing the fandom with more quality Limestone fics. We need more Limey fics, and you're the best at writing her. No pressure
5101060
Oh my, I don’t know what to say!
Perhaps this: flattery will get you everywhere.
5100911
Things are going well! Thanks, I hope everything is going your way too. It looks like you had a good time. I wish I could have made it but that wasn't happening this time unfortunately. Also, I'm due to move overseas soon, so that'll be exciting. I'm still kicking around, just not writing too much anymore.