221B Con 2025: Sunday -- The Rest of the Story

 When we last left our hero, he had two sessions left in Sunday's 221B Con Experience -- "An Hour with Ashley & Curtis" and "Our Last Bow," two big favorites to wind up the con.

You never know what Ashley Polasek and Curtis Armstrong are going to come up with, given their wealth of Sherlockian and theatrical knowledges, but you do know it will entertain. Last time it was defending the stories of Casebook. This time it was a look at the less-featured females of the Canon and what things looked like from their point of view. Hatty Doran, Mary Sutherland, Mrs. Neville St. Clair, Effie Munro, Isadora Klein, and Agatha the maid were all considered, but the hour just couldn't be left with just that. Apparently when Curtis first told his family he was going to the BSI dinner, the idea popped up that there was some kind of Sherlock Holmes dance that Sherlockians did at these things. So, Curtis, being an imaginative fellow, had to come up with that dance -- and then, not for the first time, teach it to the 221B Con attendees.

Somewhere there exists a full video of this event, and I have about a dozen still pictures of the many parts and pieces of the dance, but I will just tease you with the one above. Does it have a name? I don't know. But I really feel like it should replace "We Always Mention Aunt Clara" as a new Sherlockian standard.

Oh, I should explain something if anyone else saw what Rudy Altergott managed to take a photo of during Curtis and Ashley's presentation . . .

Curtis and Ashley did NOT put on a presentation so boring that it was putting two older gentlemen to sleep. Sunday afternoon at 221B Con comes after a long weekend of pushing one's limits, and the five hours of sleep I had gotten the night before did not do the job. As soon as the session was over, I made it to my room, set an alarm, and passed out for twenty minutes.

I didn't take any pictures of "Our Last Bow," that final hour where the con that just happened is reviewed by attendees with 221B Con management, an amazing tradition that has helped make this con the truly special space it is. This being the last time Crystal, Heather, Taylor and the gang would be doing this session as they turn the keys over to Johanna and Northern Heather (who joined them up front), it was bound to be a bit emotional. I found a nice little space on the floor, back against a wall, behind most of the folks I usually sat with, kind of hidden away so any sniffles and tears could be dealt with semi-privately. It was, as always, both a chance to express both opportunities for improvement (and since the con will be held again next year, that was now possible) and to express just the love and appreciation both old and new attendees have for this very special gathering of Sherlockians. Nothing like it ever came before it, and nothing like it is apt to come after it, should it ever co away. I keep finding myself wanting to sing "Camelot" when I think about it of late, because I'm old enough to have Sir Richard Burton in my head singing some portion of that misty remembrance tune.

221B Con changed a lot of lives, mine included, and I might be blogging a bit more on that later, which would not be the first time. But even thought the con was over, Sunday at the hotel for those who remain was not. There's an informal pool party called "Nerd Soup" that's a tradition among the water nymphs among the Sunday nighters, which I have heard of but never seen. My own habit has been to head out and find some local dinner, more often barbecue than not, but since we'd found a great BBQ place the night before, a few of us went to "Curious Cantina" for tacos, tres leches cake, and flan.

After that, it being Sunday night for me no matter where I am, I needed to push an episode of The Watsonian Weekly to the web, and wound up gathering up anyone who crossed our path on the way to recording in a back room of the B+ area we had to ourselves for after-parties.

We used the Blue Snowball microphone that Johanna Draper-Carlson had given to me that afternoon, which did a fair enough job if I'd have taken the time to adjust the volume levels of the different voices at the table (apologies to any listener who had to adjust the volume as they played it this time around). But given my state of near exhaustion and desire to get the pod out, the audio for this episode was about as raw as it could be.

After that, I took one load of stuff out to the car, then returned to the bar where a bunch of friends were gathered for one last drink. Good-byes were eventually said, and went upstairs to collapse and charge up for my planned 6 AM escape from the Atlanta rush hour.

And now, I think I'm due to be sleeping yet again, without even having unpacked everything yet. So, as I should have remembered last night, I will say, "And goodnight, Watson."

Two other podcasters of note, who never lived, and so shall never die.