Wide eyes and a deep inhale, we breathe in air of Convention. You can smell dusty vintage, plastic of brand new, sweat, perfume, energy drinks and popcorn. The sounds of a thousand voices mingle together to form a static buzz that floats in the air pumping you up with excitement.
But like a passing gust of wind I find I must move on.
I usually take an obnoxious amount of pictures at these things however I discover right away that I only brought one pair of batteries and they’re dead. Feeling rather bummer my orange bag suddenly seems so much heavier and more of a nuisance.