Friday in Toronto

Last Edit September 26, 1999

The first full day of the Romantic Times Romance Writers Convention '99 features a banquet for lunch in which about 1,000 women crowd into a ballroom with surly waiters (Sheraton Center Toronto).
What makes all this palatable is that, miracle of miracles, Troy gets to sit at our table.
Unfortunately, he is not next to me. But he is close enough. Any closer might be dangerous. I might have a seizure.
(I am trying so hard to be bad.)
But my son has landed me near the front of the room at a table to which Troy is being eventually led.
This allows a spate of wild, salacious (well, we are a group of writing women) remarks to flow freely.
Troy, doing his best to win the Mr. Romance title, has a good-natured response to all of this. He has no idea what all of this may lead to.
Since he is sitting here shirtless in a vest, I could explain. I refrain.
We all express appreciation for this appearance in our midst.
My son, ever alert, suggests that I plan to put him on a cover. How prophetic is that? (I am working on doing just that.)
Requiem for Amelia?
That's a possibility.
At any rate, I get lunch with a cover model and it didn't cost me $16,000 and I didn't have to win a raffle.
We are all, at this point, those of us who have been here for three days, cross-eyed tired.
I ask for and then demand decaf ( several times). We flag down the waiter at least three times. Troy even makes the request for me. Who are these waiters? (This saga went on meal after meal.)
They are as bad as the redcaps in the airport are.
I asked for my bags to be carried.
They said, "How much you pay?"
Say again?
I said $5.00.
They said 10-15.
I said 10.
They worked for it. Toted the bags through several shortcuts, past checkpoints and out to the curb. Said a shuttle would come to the hotel.
I paid $15.
It was a long way to the bus stop. We have eight bags.
But then, there was no shuttle to our hotel. There was one to the Gateway Sheraton. So the driver took us there and a limo met us and carried us the rest of the way.
We had picked up another passenger on the way.
I have the limo reserved for the ride back.
Less hassle.
But I retained the interesting contrast between the limo and shuttle drivers (very polite and helpful) and the porters.
"How much you pay?" - what an interesting greeting for a country to offer it's tourist visitors! And then to deny me my coffee!! Well!
Back at lunch, we poke at desert and listen to speeches on a sound system that leaves a lot to be desired.
I ask Troy about his bio as published in RT - he says he has a better one.
He said listen to the announcement at the Pageant.
I am not, however, patient.
No. No. No.
However, I will wait.
Troy has to bolt between introductions to get to rehearsals. They go on for hours.
They actually keep these guys on a tight schedule and on their best behavior. (Oh darn!) Which is to be expected.
Of course we all try to act up, and that is expected too. So the models have a den mother.
During the model line up, (this morning was it?), they had to tell us what they thought of all the reaction they were getting from all these women. The hugs, photographs, and such have to be an experience.
The Scottish dance instructor described the boys as a "wall of testosterone" walking into her class. Scottish dancing will "never be the same".
She then described how she was able to put her arms around "certain bits of them" and brought down the room.
Yep.
It's important.
It feeds the spirit and puts us in the mood.
It inspires us to make our heroes jump off the page.
If I can't get a hold on the tall blond one......
I'll take the tall dark-haired one! Please!
But first, bring me some decaf!