(Disclaimer: I have a few posts to come with details on the conference. Some will be a play by play like today's. Some will be certain events that just seemed to lend themselves to a story quite nicely. There WILL be name dropping all over the place. It's par for the course when yore rubbing shoulders with the A-Listers of the Blogosphere. I apologize for any mistakes on my part and would like to blame any miscourses on the heavy drinking, but unfortunately, I have no excuse. I was sober.)
BlogHer: Day 1
The plane lands in Chicago. (Yay! I survived!)
Despite some minor turbulance and only 2 attempts to revise my will on a drink napkin, we have a smooth flight. I look around as we taxi up to the gate. (Look at me! Speaking airplane lingo. Next thing you know, I'll be wracking up frequent flier miles!) (Pffft.) My first impression of Chicago?
It looks like Florida.
What the hell, Illinois? Where are the mountains? The tall buildings? The hustle bustle of urban city life I've come to envision whenever I think of your deep dish pizza? And forgive me, but you look NOTHING like New York. (I can somehow hear cheering from the Chi-Town residents on this one..) Then I realize, we are nowhere close to the city. Good. You almost had Strike 1.
I had already arranged with Vodkamom (simply by stalking her comments and stabbing her verbally with exclamation points) to catch a ride to the hotel together since her flight was coming in about an hour after mine.
I check my purse for the handmake Vodkamom sign for assurance (and then check my wallet AND its monetary contents AGAIN to make sure I have the exact amount I left with) (I'm nuerotic, no?) (That's a yes.) and mosey my way over to greet this Internet Rockstar at her baggage claim area while balancing on three inch heels and dragging an overfull suitcase that really has seen better days years.
Honestly? I wasn't sure what to expect from her. She has quite the following (seriously) and is known for her quick humor and easy ability to make me cry by Paragraph 2, so I was pretty intimidated just by her reputation. Then she walks over and I immediately love her.
Folks, she is EXACTLY like she promotes herself on her site. (Anyone who is not following her, should.)
Luckily, she's up for some adventure (and down with spending too much money) (Love frugality. Love her.) and suggests we take the El into the city to the Sheraton.
(Okay, anyone familiar with the Chiago area should take note or cover their ears, I'm about to go all touristy on its ass.)
Holy crap! O'Hare has trains right under the airport!!! I feel like I'm walking into The Matrix! And get stuck in the turnstile when my ticket won't go in! And a native grabs my ticket with a look of pity and does it for me! And I have to call out after him, "I'm really not that stupid!" Being the naive, rarely traveled Floridian I am, I stick close by Vodka's side the entire time as we navigate our suitcases through narrow corridors, steep stairs and a few MoTown tribute bands who literally make every movie I've ever seen depicting subway entertainment come true.) (Good job, Hollywood. I am now more trusting.) Um, El authority? One quick suggestion. An air freshener would be a vast improvement on the smell that is currently existing in your labrynth that smells more like a lavatory. Just a suggestion!
So, we finally make it to daylight and within running distance of the hotel and give up the goat to catch a cab to the hotel because, folks? We're tired, hungry, and close to hurling our suitcases into traffic (which, come to think of it, would probably not even ellicit a blink of confusion from those veteran cabbies).
During the ride, I'm able to finally rest my eyes on Chicago at large and DAMN, you have some tall buildings. I feel like an ant as we look up, up, UP to the Sears Willis (SEARS) Tower and even have a moment of Gee Willicker (Typo? Anyone?) when I catch the sign for the Chicago Tribune.
Once the cabbie pulls up to our home for the next three and a half days, we head in and take stock of the situation. Women mill around the large lobby in all sorts of groupings. No one recognizes us. We recognize no one. We step into line and try for an early check in, giving that we're both starving (the OdWalla bar did nothing to alleviate the hunger while waiting for Vodka, and nothing to promote itself on its taste either..), but are quickly told the rooms aren't ready yet.
After dropping our bags with the bellhops, we quickly pepper them with questions on a good (but cheap! We're only Day 1 into the conference, people!) place to have a late lunch. NBC Tower? Really? They're cheap? Okay, we'll give it a try. Since the Peacock is on the opposite corner of our hotel, Vodka and I brave traffic (which, in Chicago, it seems that traffic lights are more of a suggestion and not a standard) and quickly find Boardman's Urban Kitchen. The meal is good, under ten dollars, and quick. Definitely a recommendation for anyone looking for a great price, great meal, and great chance to rub elbows with someone who may have spotted Tina Fey in an elevator, if that someone was in New York City, of course.
My room is ready! And Middle Aged Woman's made it into town! Could it get better than this? Fate seems to think so as none other than Amy of Amalah fame and her adorable cherub Ezra step onto the same lift. I stamp down my usual surge of "Don't embarrass us, Jen!" and introduce myself. "Oh, yeah! I see your comments all the time! I checked out your site," she mentions, and I am starstruck. Of course, my hand inches out to touch Ezra's snack-size foot and I quickly remember how much I hated it when people I didn't know tried to get their paws on Sprite when she was in her pre-walking stage and reign it in before I step over bounds. Knowing I will see her from time to time throughout the conference, I smile and say goodbye when my floor comes up. (Folks, she's extremely nice. I thought I was a big fan of her site before? Even more so now.)
Before anything else can happen, we head over to the Hyatt for their Swiffer SocialLux party and see some seriously heavy looking swag coming out of the hotel, out of a party that was only about an hour old. Vodka and I venture closer and step into line as the poor girls at the front desk are telling some attendees ahead of us that all the swag bags have been spoken for. And the women they're giving the bad news to do not take it well. It turns out that a certain number of people had RSVP'ed to the event and were to be guaranteed swag. Instead, bracelets (needed to collect a bag) were given on a first come first serve basis and some people who had NOT RSVP'ed were given swag when they should not have been. Granted, mistakes were made, but the scene we are now witnessing as the denied patrons unleash their anger on the messengers of the bad news is unfortunately just an appetizer of the entitlement some people display during the conference and my first bitter taste of the excess that will show up time and again during the event. And the term "swag hag" is born.
MAW and Vodka, having already teamed up with others for dinner plans, take off and I wait for Mary Anne, Ms. Stiletto Mom herself, to finally come in from the airport. After having issues with the airline for reasons she will get into on her own site, she shows her face. And what a lovely face she has too. Meeting her now cements everything I've ever thought about her. And yes, stiletto heels are the first things I see when she opens her luggage.
As Stiletto is unpacking, there's a knock at the door. We look at each other in confusion. Is MAW back from dinner already? She opens the door to reveal a hotel staffer who hustles into our room without explanation and deposits a cheese and cracker tray along with a bottle of red and 2 goblets onto our bedside table. He hands me the note as I hand him a tip. The note reads: "Have a great time! Your friend, Michele".
We share a toast to Michele (who had promised she had left me something since she stayed at the same hotel just a week prior and I thought it would be a graffiti message on a high wall in the lobby, but this was so much better, and legal!)(Thanks again, Michele! It was a wonderful surprise!) and to each other before I indulge in my first of only two drinks during the entire event.
Finally, it's time for the People's Party and my second (and last) drink for BlogHer, which coupled with some cheese and crackers, no dinner, and a bit of altitude sickness made me a little less than on my game. There was a little more swag, a lot less room to wiggle around, (the room was max'ed out in capacity and spilling into the atrium) and the opportunity to meet Kim from Hormone-Colored Days and Kristina Sauerwein from Babycenter, two women I have been admiring since BEFORE I started this little site of mine.
And that, folks, is where my story ends for today. More to come! More pictures! More drama! More intrigue! More NAME DROPPING...
Me and my roomies
(Yes, we got along famously)
(No, no one snored)
(Yes, drinks were had)
(No, no one got embarrasingly drunk)
(Seriously, done for now!!
