In which our hero first sees the conference center, which takes such a central role in this story.
A good night of sleep had done some good, but judging by the vague headache not all damage had been undone yet. Denver on early Saturday morning really is quiet. Our enthused laughter and talk banged against the high-rises, and echoed over empty parking lots. Generic downtown USA. The conference center was impressive. The big triangular glass and steel entrance made it look a bit like a pyramid, but beyond the entrance the building seemed to continue for ever. Huge.Inside the building was large and spacious. Most of our conference activities would take place on the first floor, so we took the elevator up. I still have to pick up a Guinness book of records to verify it, but I strongly suspect this is the slowest elevator ever. The main conference activities turned out to be concentrated in a large exhibition hall. Separate spaces were set out with curtains. It just didn't look like CHI to me.
Even worse, all bags were already packed. I had hoped to get some hours out of the way stuffing bags, but this job was already finished yesterday. Then someone turned up with a mangled conference final program. Several pages were missing? Was this a misprint? A small outburst of mixed fear and nervousness swept through the conference committee members. We could turn their feelings into additional hours by checking the final program in all stuffed bags. You would almost suspect a student volunteer desperate for additional hours...