Seattle, Chicago, Dayton. I've just arrived in Dayton for the Erma Bombeck Humor Writers' Workshop.
Just as a science fiction convention is peopled with...science fiction types, this is peopled with, well, live wires. Class clowns. The women are perky and assertive. The men are wise guys. More on my fellow attendees later.
The Dayton Marriott, where we are staying and having our evening meetings, just screams "1970s," with low ceilings, tired mahogany paneling, and dim hallways set at mind boggling oblique angles. But my room is clean and well lit, with a hair dryer, bathtub, large closet, and full-length mirrors. (It's amazing how many of the new boutique hotels are dim, with one ornate mirror set just at the height required for man to adjust his tie.)
The room's one concession to trendiness is a queen-size marshmallow-type bed with six - six! - pillows. Perhaps there's a pillow fight on tonight's conference agenda? And maybe I should check to make sure that my bed hasn't been short-sheeted.
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