No – we haven’t been married for 25 years.
But today is the 25th anniversary of our meeting, on the opening night (and at the opening festivities) of the 50th World Science Fiction Convention, also known as NorEasCon III, in Boston.
It almost didn’t happen. I hadn’t realized (incredible to contemplate) that the WorldCon was meeting right where I lived (and the 50th anniversary of the first one, at that) until I walked down Boylston Street and saw groups of people walking along.
For some reason – and I still don’t know what it was – I instantly KNEW that they were science fiction fans. It wasn’t anything obvious – nobody was in costume, or wearing badges, or carrying stacks of SF novels, or even dressed in geeky polyester. But they gave off an unmistakable aura of fannishness.
At that point, I recalled that the Con was in town, and went over to the Hynes auditorium to register for the whole weekend.
At the opening ceremonies, honoring the paperback publishing Ballantines, there was a cake and punch. I had a backpack on, and didn’t want to try to wrestle it through the crowds. I saw two women sitting at a table, and from their nametags they were from New Jersey (from Grover’s Mill, it later turned out, where the Martians landed) , and I said I was from NJ, too. Not according to my name tag, Pepper Mill pointed out. But I assured them I was originally from there, giving the secret New Jersey handshake and identification codes (like what exit I was from). They agreed to watch my backpack while I braved the crowds to bring back cake and punch.
I did it, too, juggling three plates and three cups (holding one with my teeth).
It was a huge convention. Because of the auspicious anniversary, a lot of Big Names were there, including Forrest J. Ackerman, who had attended the first WorldCon, dressed in a replica of the original SpaceMan suit he wore then (or maybe it was the same one – who knows?), along with his Dracula ring. Larry Niven Isaac Asimov. Hal Clement.
There were people there I knew, but didn’t see. But I saw Pepper Mill over and over. We ran into each other in line at the food concession. I crashed with her and her very interesting traveling companions on the couches in the lounge. We passed in the hallways.
I left a note for her on her hotel room door (no one was in at the time). On the last night, she kissed me goodbye “because she wanted me to remember her.” I did
A month later we met down in New Jersey for what she still calls “our only date”, at a bar that no longer exists. She thinks Meryl Streep was there that night, but we didn’t try to find out.
A month after that I went to her annual Halloween party at the Jersey Shore, attended by her cadre of friends, fans and artists among them (one of them is artist GoH at Arisia this year). An odd mix, and they all got a look at me and, I later learned, discussed me. I suspect it was kind of like the “gabble gabble - one of us” scene in Tod Browning’s Freaks.
Anyway, I was acvcepted, and Pepper came up for a visit to Boston, where I showed her the tacky wonder that is Routew One north of the city, with the Fluorescent Orange T. Rex and Weylu’s Chinese Palace on a Hill, and the giant Polynesian hut that is Kowloon’s, and the Hilltop Steakhouse with its 100 foot tall cactus. And, despite this, she decided to stay with me. A few months later she moved up to Boston, taking a job in the North End.
A Long Strange Trip, been it has.
As Grateful Yoda would say.
