For a city known for earthquakes, the hotel where I stayed in San Francisco certainly took some big chances with light fixtures. I'm sure that a lovely hotel like that has some magical, written-in-blood, long-standing pact with a travelling gypsy clan. A clan who 100 years ago promised the hotel safety in exchange for monthly payments of a hundred dollars, an never-ending supply of string, and a suckling pig. But still, holy gamble with a land-locked Poseidon Adventure starring a good chunk of the blogosphere.
Anyhow, nary a moment in that hotel passed, without me getting the feeling that I was standing in the unmistakable trajectory path of some large, breath-taking, completely-amazing globe/chandelier.
This little number hung in the middle of my room.
Obviously I was booked in the parlour / fainting salon, complete with Billy Zane look-a-like to do my bidding along side a very useful John Malkovich look-a-like concierge. I unfortunately was not allowed to photograph my man slaves - though if I had, I would share photos with you. Trust me, Raoul was easy on the eyes and intense, while St. James had control over everything.
Anyhow, each night while mentally preparing to go to sleep, I would calculate all the possible outcomes in case of separation of light from ceiling due to tremors. It was important for me to figure out which way that crystal clad puppy would smash once it had a good swing care of San Andreas' pushes.
You know when I'm given the time to sleep as much as I want, the actual process of going to sleep gets weird. That is why I sometimes require this crazy mental work-up in order to convince myself this isn't a cruel, cruel trick.
Anyhow, using the little (translation: nil) knowledge I have of physics - which was all learned from cartoons and episodes of Saved by the Bell - I figured that the chandelier of death would either smack the wall next to me or completely decimate the huge flat screen on the dresser that never, ever got turned on the entire weekend away.
Did you know that this weekend was only the second time in my life that I haven't turned on a television in a hotel/motel/waiting/ room
In fact, I think that last little factoid sums up a BlogHer conference fairly well: Upside down world. No more hiding behind the online veil. TV addict quits addiction cold turkey because the world has become "You read 'em, now you see 'em, and they talk - if you are lucky - to you".
By the way, the amount of lucky is usually in direct proportion of how ballsy one feels, because odds of rejection are always low but odds of awkward conversation is medium to high.
Back to lighting fixtures, this Titanic - because it is far to dignified to be called a behemoth - vessel of destruction, approximately the size of an ambulance, was ready to take out at least 50 or more bloggers and sponsors in the main keynote speech room.
It was both stunning and huge.
Just like the light fixtures.