Chattacon came of age as the first woman became chairman. Charlie Williams handled the job masterfully as Chattacon packed the Read House yet again. Eric Love took over as head of security. Oh my God, we’ve done it again! Rabid fan alert, Terry Pratchett is GoH. Dean Ing and family moved into the Read House indefinitely prior to the convention. S.N. Lewitt was totally blown away by everything, and Chattacon was blown away by her belly dancing. Wendy Webb had a hard time juggling all the toast orders she received. Jennifer Pieve was yet another wonderful Surprised FGoH. But, of course, the real excitement started Sunday morning as temperatures plummeted and the water pipes burst. The third floor flooded and in the art show, the remaining art was taken down and moved as water seeped through the ceiling. No problem, a fan was prepared as he navigated in the halls in scuba gear (don’t ask why he brought scuba gear to an inland hotel in January, we don’t know). While most of the fans took off before the snow (snow? snow? in the balmy southeast? Naaaww) hit, the weather was not kind to Chattacon’s guests who usually stay over until Monday. But this year… First off, everyone made a fool of themselves at the dead dog party, where directors, guests, and staff wiped out the entire convention’s liquor supply, and one director floated down the hallway. Someone nobody knew flashed the entire party and, not getting an adequate response, proceeded to throw up on as many people as possible before retiring to the couch. Terry Pratchett sang all the Jim Steinmann songs there are while at the same time playing DOOMTM on the operations computer. He wondered, in vain, when the convention would be over, because he desired to “get off.” Ah, Terry, worse things await. Most of the guests awoke to a world of whiteness outside Monday morning and decided to settle in since the highways and airports were closed. But Terry had to go home now or else he might not get another flight to Europe for days. After several aborted attempts at sending off via Chattanooga, the intrepid and hung-over Andy Hendee volunteered to take Terry to Atlanta, cross-country if need be, to get him to his connecting flight on Monday. Ask Andy! The burst pipes, meanwhile, had caused a lake to form outside the consuite which froze as it went down the ramp to the street. Of course the beer truck was stuck there until spring thaw. And the hotel still loves us.

Which brings us full circle as we honor our founder, Irv Koch, without whom none of this would be possible. Thanks for the memories, Irv….