Miners' Ink

Miners' Ink proved to be a pleasant convention, and a pleasant surprise considering that none of the people involved had ever thrown a convention before. The few mistakes made were minor compared with the mistakes that could have been made, or that perhaps ought to have been made.

The university venue offered some differences from the usual con venue. Huge lecture halls and an auditorium for the big events, participation of college clubs (who sold food and souvenirs and whatnots), and the glee club, which opened the event with an a capella version of the Star Trek theme.

Organizers used to an academic setting seemed more comfortable getting events under way early in the morning and ending early, leaving folks standing around at night with nothing to do. Writers remedied this the way they always do: we clumped together in the hotel lounge, drank, and talked.

Nichelle Nichols had a much better solution, which was to invade the Capitol Bar on Friday night and tear up the dance floor, a pretty remarkable performance for a woman over seventy. I wish someone had told me this was happening: I can talk to writers any time.

Ms. Nichols was charming and sweet and, as Hollywood stars go, very accessible. She was present with a posse that included her son, Kyle, who lives in Gila. She gave a keynote speech pointing out the necessity of female and minority engineers.

The speech rambled somewhat: I think we can conclusively prove that Ms Nichols writes her own speeches. A ghostwriter would have punched it up.

We had nothing to do on Sunday but go on a tour of the VLA. I've been several times, so I went home to wash my clothes and pack for my next trip, which starts tomorrow.