Entry tags:	conventions, costumes, doctor who, gallifrey one
Crossposts:	http://10littlebullets.livejournal.com/541166.html

On my way to Gallifrey One! (Side note: You know sort of travel anxiety that lingers in the back of your head and goes "What if you can't find the hotel? What if you can't find it because it doesn't EXIST? What if you step out of the plane and your entire destination doesn't exist, and there's nothing but a cornfield or a howling void filled with asteroids or a chillingly empty hole in spacetime?" Yeah, the sentence "I'm going to Gallifrey!" really doesn't do a lot to defuse that anxiety.) Flight gets out of DC National at 5:45 AM, which is pretty much the ass end of EVERYTHING, and the best transport I could arrange was to be dropped off around 1am by my brother. So, close on five hours in Reagan National, sitting on my butt on the very hard floor of the elevator/pay-phone alcove, because that's the only place where the muzak isn't earsplitting. Who the fuck ghetto-blasts muzak at three in the morning, anyway? Well, okay, an airport named after Ronald Reagan, that's who. At least there's WiFi.

Costumes lined up for Gally this year: Simm!Master as usual, Yana!Master, possibility of Ninth Doctor, and--fingers crossed that the last-minute assembly/tinkering at the hotel goes all right--tag-team Happiness Patrol cosplay with a buddy from Tumblr. I realize it would probably be mean to mount a guerrilla "Cheer up, emo Time Lord!" campaign against random Tens, but... well, it's still deeply tempting. I've been too much of a failface lately to rig up a pair of faux-stone wings that could survive an airplane trip, so weeping angel has to stay at home again.