Ben Hockenhull, Sarah Burcham (Queen o' the Damned^W YAPC), Jos, Ann, Bob, Elaine and I put fliers, O'Reilly shit, pens, maps, and tons of other shit into bags. It was an eternity of stuffing. (insert homosexual/stuff joke here).
When we were done, Elaine, Jos, Ann, Ben and I went back to the hotel's pub where Jon Orwant was waiting, and we drank and talked and drank and talked. I got to bed around 3am. It was a lot of fun.
The bar is kinda weird. They didn't seem to mind my occasional loud "fuck the fucking fucks!" outburst, but the service was slow. We spent time with empty glasses. Tsk tsk!
It was good to catch up with Jon, swapping war stories of life at O'Reilly. We both work there, but we hardly ever get to just sit around and bullshit. It's like a pressure valve--it's good to bleed off some of the pressure into bitching and gossip, rather than letting it build until one day you walk into the office naked but for "edit this motherfucker" scrawled in blood on your back, carrying an over-and-under shotgun and humming "Bad to the Bone".