by Gideon Marcus
Science fiction fans are a rare breed. Consider that even the most widely distributed science fiction monthly, Analog
, has just 200,000 readers. Compare that to the 180 million folks living in America. That's about one in a thousand. If you come from a midlin'-sized city of, say, 50,000, there are just 50 of your kind in town. It can feel pretty lonely, especially in our rather conservative land.
That's why we have science fiction conventions. For a brief, shining weekend, the density of fans goes from .1% to 100% (except for the occasional stranger who wanders dazedly into the hotel or hall in which the event is held). It is a rare opportunity to exchange ideas, fanzines, gossip. We buy and sell our specialized goods. We wear outlandish costumes. We drink a bit too much, and we occasionally commit acts that we probably won't tell our parents or kids about.
Welcome to Condor
, San Diego's home-grown science fiction gathering. We had many dozen attendees from throughout Southern California, a gathering that rivaled the famed Worldcon
in size. They ranged from the very young to the venerable, and they came in all shapes, sizes, colors, and genders. It truly was a fine cross-section of the best humanity has to offer.
(see the rest at Galactic Journey