Acen day two!

[railenthe]

The second day of the convention was a bit more productive.
 

ACEN 2011, DAY TWO--ACTION!

 

The day began with a breakfast of cereal!  Everyone else had the Reese’s cereal, but the friends we were staying with had an old favorite of mine, Apple Cinnamon Cheerios.  I helped myself to a couple of bowls with a generous splash of ice-cold organic skim milk (delicious, by the by—and this from someone who’s basically totally switched to almond milk) before waiting for the shower.

 

This second day meant getting into the dealer room.  This second day mean that the cosplay that I’d planned on doing would actually be seen.

 

After a battle with a schizophrenic hot water heater, I managed to get a hot shower and my hair pulled back appropriately so that I could gear up.  I grabbed a pastel pink purse and matching silky pink kimono, placed my little Turtwig plushie Napoleon inside with just his head sticking out, and voila!  Pokémon Trainer cosplay.

 

No sooner had I gotten my shoes on than we had to get out the door to get to the tabletop gaming room in time.  The other three members of our group were hitting the Magic: The Gathering room.  Me not knowing how to play, I decided to make my way to the dealer room.  And no sooner than I’d gotten to the convention center, what did my wandering eyes see?

 

 

THAT’S RIGHT.  The LINE FROM HELL had reformed by that point.  The registration was still backed up, and so no one could get in…unless they were getting their badges.  The rest of us would have to wait until ten.

 

I pulled out my Treo to discover that the current time was 7:57.

 

Well, time to make lemonade out of key limes, I thought, Laguna-style, and pulled out my camera.  No sooner than I’d pulled my camera out than I saw a blonde in a bomber jacket rush by, holding something that looked like a giant cheeseburger—

Holy crap it’s America!

Or, more accurately, black!America.
 

I tracked the cosplayer down and snagged a shot, fangirled for a little while, and then after a farewell, went off in the other direction…

-Exactly seventeen minutes later-

 

“Hey, did Russia blow past here?” I asked my group.  I’d followed what I had suspected was a Russia cosplayer into a crowded room, only to lose them.  After a headshake delivered in triplicate, I made my way back to the waiting area/line FROM HELL.

 

…Luckily the LINE FROM HELL was also a COSPLAYER GOLDMINE.  King Mickeys, Kairi, Cloud, and—Hey, it’s Russia!  ....with America in a collar!  Oh, JOYOUS day.  I rubbed an indentation into my camera’s shoot button with all the shots I pulled outside in that line.

    Belarus is crazy.  You almost never find Russia in close range when Belarus is around.  If you do he's moving away from her.  And fast.


     

 

Suddenly there was a silence.  The time had hit 10:01.

 

“ATTENTION!  THE DEALER ROOM IS NOW OPEN! PLEASE FORM AN ORDERLY LINE AND—”

 

Well, of COURSE we didn’t form an orderly line—what are we, schoolchildren?  No, we zerg rushed that mofo.  The ‘line’ formed a little ways inside.  And three steps in, we hear:

 

“WHO LET PEOPLE IN?  NO MORE IN!  NOT UNTIL THE REGISTRATION LINE IS DOWN SOME!”

 

I’m surprised that we didn’t wind up with a several-hundreds strong ‘innocent, nonchalant whistle’ in that gaggle.  There are places are places where you’d get shot for that sort of crap.  Isn’t America great?

 

Timeskip—forty-five minutes after getting inside…

 

By this point, I’ve found a dealer and purchased my first piece of merch:  a pair of purple moogle wings.  So now—picture it—you have a black kimono-trainer running around with a purse!Turtwig and green pokéball…with moogle wings.  And I do mean running: even with the knee brace on, I’ve drunk so many energy drinks by this point (and made a point of taking a prescription painkiller the night before to head of soreness) that I feel damn near like my old self.  My target: the Distant Worlds booth.  Facebook informed us fans to look out for the booth featuring a gigantic banner of Yuna—so my objective was clear…

Or it would have been, were I able to find the booth!
I finally stopped for directions, and got there in minutes.  After I got there, I discovered that their booth was cash only.  It was time to visit the ATM.

For whatever reason, it was a gold block with a  question mark manned by what I can only assume was a plumber.

After grabbing my gil coins cash, I grabbed the loot, and made my way to the yaoi tables.
 

Behind them there was a Utilikilts kiosk.

…I won’t say it.  I know you’re all thinking it though so was I.

After ogling the men in skirts, I made another dash, hunting this time for Prussia…
 Who I managed to find easily.
And then there was the adorable Canada! 

…who I will admit to not noticing at first because OH HAI PRUSSIA.  Then Sealand airplanes in…

 

I bid farewell to the nation-tans, wondering where I would go now that I had doujins, CDs, and two artbooks.  I was impatient to hear the music I’d just bought, but there was no way to get to my computer, and so I had to get to something else, get my mind off of it—

I stop short suddenly.  From somewhere in the convention hall, I hear music: clear, rich, achingly sweet.  I cock my head to the side and slightly up, trying to get my bearings and find the source of the song.  After about seven steps, my mind provides words.

…a voice, from the past, joining yours and mine…

I realize that I’m hearing Melodies of Life, played somewhere in this hall, on an ocarina.

I move through the crowd in a near daze, following the second ‘verse’ on the ocarina to its source.  At this point, it’s as if there is nothing in that hall but me and the sound of this unseen but clearly heard and felt ocarina.

I eventually reach a table, loaded down with little lovelies.  I’ve never seen so many different kinds of clay pot flute (a term of endearment for the ocarina).  There’s even a mousecarina!

 

I think I should stop for a bit of exposition, here.  I grew up listening to classical music, and music has always had a strange effect on me.  Single melodic lines get to me quickly enough—and don’t expect me to be able to make a coherent statement if there is a choral arrangement audible.  Music like that will generally suck me straight in, and if there is space enough, immediate dance.  It might have something to do with growing up in a Southern Baptist family, where the church services feature praise dancing.  Ever since I learned how to do it, music has had this grip over me.

Anyway, back to Acen 2011…

 

I look at the table, amazed at the craftsmanship; then I look up.  The source of the song is the most impressive Zelda cosplayer I’ve ever seen, playing a concert-grade ocarina of a familiar shape and color.
…you’ll have to excuse the lack of a stellar photo for this one.  I was having a bona-fide crazed-fan moment—not the hyper-active fan subtype, but the ‘Oh my heavens, I do declare that I am feeling faint’ subtype.  She finishes playing, and without even realizing that I’m doing it, I reach out as if to take the notes out of the air while they still linger.  I manage to get a look at the dealer’s plain, unobtrusive banner:  STL Ocarina.  I know this dealer: they’re local, and their instruments are concert grade. The price ain’t no joke, but for a concert-grade instrument, money is no object.  My eyes fall back upon the Zelda cosplayer, who has lowered her ocarina and is holding it forward slightly so that I can get a closer look.

She asks me what I thought.

“C-can I hear another song?”  Sweet Cosmos, I sound like a lost little girl.  She launches into a rendition of the theme of Ocarina of Time.  She slows the pace down a bit, so its melody is slow, languorous—and as I said earlier, the tone of the ocarina itself adds this sweet, aching quality to the music.

As I listen, transfixed by the tune, a short guy of indeterminate Asian ancestry taps me on the shoulder.  “Lovely, yes?”

I manage to nod, still staring at Zelda, who has segued into ‘Zanarkand.’  Godsdammit, she is a siren, luring me to this glorious place where the instrument I’ve coveted sits on display, played with a skill that surely must be a gift from the goddess.

“This convention only—we’re offering a deal…”

He proceeded to tell me the usual price of this ocarina—and then the price that was being offered at Acen.

It didn’t take much to convince me.  I immediately forked over the gil cash and…

Now, I own this.
I don’t know how to play it yet, but there’s the fun!  I get to learn!

 

Approximately 5 hours into the festivities…

By this point, I’m so overloaded with  my props and my loot that I’d have an encumbrance penalty—you know, if this were the game Fallout.  And I wouldn’t drop things, ‘cause I worked my ASS off to get the dough to buy them.  So if it were Falout, I’d be dead.

But it’s not, so I’m just dead tired.  I decide to sit down.

A flash of black goes past me.  A flash of black topped with a flash of pink.  I blink.

“Aww, a Turtwig!  When does he bloom, hm?”

I blink again.  It’s…Sakura-boy Marluxia!

And he’s bubbly and effervescent and flamboyant.  I LOVE it.

Charming, too.

  The sight of that rose worried me, though.  Where’d he get it?

I manage to get a few more good shots before both I and my camera drop dead for the day.

I'll be linking to the entire trip's pics at the end of the recaps.  That, and I'm still doing clean-up on some of them.

 

Our return is spent eating delicious homemade stuff and watching Pulp Fiction, and comparing the loot we got away with.  There’s a lot of early crashing – we ran around a lot, and we are dog tired.

Coming Soon:  Day 3 of Acen 2011 – OoM and Loot!