Hi folks!

Mitchy says:

I have had SUCH a good time and I don't want it to end. Nearly everyone has left now except for a few of us who are trying to postpone having to say goodbye. We've bullied Beth into bringing her laptop down to the Lobbibar (aka RAM Meeting Room) so we can tell you all that RAMmers rock (you knew that, right?) and that you've all got to come to Austin so you too can experience a Bouchercon, because it's awesome. I'm short on sleep, I have waaaaay too many books to lug back across the Atlantic and after standing in the queue for the Sue Grafton signing for over an hour yesterday, my feet have broken off all diplomatic relations with the rest of me. But it was worth it :)

Slim,svelte, skeletal-like Jim Barker says:

Well, I discovered that Bouchercons are just like SF conventions - but without Klingons. I have had such a blast. REALLLY pleased that I conquered the doubts and made the flight even if it did mean a complete twenty five hour period without sleep and losing my voice for the first two days (I eventually found it under the bed). And even if American hotel bars are such wusses that they shut at 1am, I had such a great time. I am REALLLy gonna have to suck up nice to Mrs Jim To let her allow me to go to Austin next year... Oh, and the guy in all those incriminating photographs they're about to post is John Baker, all right dear?

Fat, bald Mark Alan Miller (aka the Tinkster) says:

It's all lies. Wicked lies. The hotel lobby stinks of cat urine and rotting antipodean so-called biscuits. All of the authors missed their connections at an airport somewhere in Ireland and were never seen again, so the panels were manned by the organizers of the event doing mostly bad impressions of the promised authors. Bill Deeck got stuck doing Val McDermid and did a credible job of it, especially his/her soulful medley of Scottish miners' songs. Certain RAMMERS got so wrapped up in an around-the-clock game of strip Scrabble, won of course by Ellen Conford, who cheated by claiming each love bead was a separate item of clothing, that they missed all of the events. Ellen also scored big with an 8-letter word for a traditional Southern dessert of grits and dried possum meat that the other players were too disgusted to challenge. Keith showed up in a classy suit (surprise! this part is actually true). The RAMMERS are all shorter, taller, balder, ande fatter than they have any right to be but we all pretended not to notice. Be there in Austin so we can make fun of you, too.