The Portland Marriott in downtown Portland, 10:30 this morning. A happy Kyushu skipped down the stairs from the lobby, approaching a hand-drawn sign proclaiming "Registration", with an arrow pointing to the right. Three days of work had been compressed into two in order to make time for this. A frantic effort to scan and print artwork to bring had produced a small portfolio clutched in his hand, along with a small planner that contained, among other items, the fifteen dollars that would get him through the door.
He reached the bottom of stairs, turned the corner, and saw...the whiteboard.
"Registration closed. Only pre-registered guests will be admitted."
If anyone needs me, I'll be in the fetal position...
Kyushu