Then a cruise on the river and out to the lake, awesome Chicago skyline, amazing company of writers. Talked to Rachel Swirsky, Daniel Abraham, Ty Franck, Walter Jon Williams and Kathy Hedges. Went to get what was possibly another drink too many and talked to Robert Silverberg about losing Hugos. Occurred to me that if either my actual or fictional fifteen year old self could have seen this as a vision would have assumed it was heaven. Had drunk enough red wine to actually say this to Silverberg, who said "Well, isn't it?"
Yes. Except better...
I could still wake up and it could all be a dream, "Methought I was... methought I had..." because really, really, I expect the "SN" in "SNAFU" to stand, I distrust being happy and expect and deal well with disasters.
Worldcon. Wow. (That you're not here too is all that lets me know it's real.)