The Ninth Circle of Hell -- with karaoke!

It is the Ninth Circle of Hell that's frozen, isn't it? Because that's what I was -- all fucking day long.

Today was the first day of the major trade show I was invited to be a comics guest at. The show organizer did NOT tell me that the show was actually being held, not in an enclosed building, which would have made sense in the first week of October in Manitoba, but in an agricultural display space -- a concrete pad, a plastic ceiling, and plastic fabric walls that bellowed and whipped every time the HUGE gusts of wind tearing across the open prairie hit them. Yes, the event was held outside city limits. I knew that, but thought it was being held at the enclosed racing pavilion on that same site.

So... I took no jacket, because I thought I'd be out of the car and in the door inside where it was warm. All I wore was a light sweater over a shirt. Silly, silly me, to expect heat! What on earth was I thinking? :-P

To be fair, there were four heaters in the HUGE space, of the propane type used on construction sites. None of them blew air that was more than lukewarm. And they were all positioned FAR away from the area where the comics artists were -- with our computers, so we could hold demos.

Do you know what the minimum operating temperature of a G4 is?

Neither did I! Since it could only have been 10 degrees Celcius (50 degrees Fahrenheit) when the show organizer dumped me and my computer in the space, I borrowed a cell phone (no pay phones on site, either!) and called George, who couldn't find the G4 manual. The monitor I'd brought was good at any temperature above freezing (who'd have thunk?). I turned it on to warm up the space where the G4 was with its exhaust heat. God, isn't THAT sad?

When the temp got up to about 13 degrees C (57 F), I finally screwed up my courage and turned the G4 on (I had to get work done, and thus had no choice but to take the risk). Miracle of miracles, it ran fine. (I found out when I got home this evening that the minimum operating temp on that computer is 12 C. Holy hell... that was a close one!)

And it was at 13 C, friends and neighbors, that the exhibit space stayed... all... fucking... day. I was better off than one of the other comic artists present, who was in short shirt sleeves. I had packed long underwear in my bag in case I needed to catch the bus home later on, and when I pulled it out to take to the washrooms to change, another artist promptly offered to buy them for $10. I thought he was joking. He swears he was not.

(The washrooms, while 50 feet away OUTSIDE the exhibit building, were at least real enclosed buildings, heated, with hot air hand dryers. Mmmmmm, bliiiiiisssssss! It's a wonder I ever went back to the hall!)

Now, I hate being cold worse than just about anything. It was so cold I had trouble painting using the Wacom tablet, and had to stop regularly to warm my fingers under my armpits. It was so cold that I was starting to have trouble thinking straight. How could it possibly get worse.

Then they fired up the karaoke exhibit.

The country music karaoke exhibit.

Me, wailing: "I'M IN HELL!" (yes, I actually said that out loud)

All afternoon. All fecking afternoon. Six hours worth.

weeps helplessly

I'm home now, with a hot bath and a hot drink under my belt. But oh, lordy, I feel like utter shit.

And I've promised them two more days of my presence.

puts head in arms, sobs

At least tomorrow I'll dress for the occasion! Complete with gloves, so I can at least paint.

Next year, the show organizers can go straight to the Ninth Circle as far as I'm concerned.