I think I might have been spoiled by having my first national professional conference be for the nuclear freeze. I was living on a barely sustainable income, as were most of the people I knew. And the conference was in the Peachtree something or other in Altanta - a very expensive hotel that I couldn't possibly have afforded normally.
Jesse Jackson spoke; I'd never really considered him as a serious candidate until I heard him preach and been inspired by his words. Hanging around afterwards in the ballroom, a group of us were playing , running around in the ballroom with big bunches of helium balloons trailing behind us. The cleaning staff showed up, and we talked about Jackson, who they considered a serious contender, the only one who really represented their views.
It's harder, after that experience, to take some aspects of conferences seriously. Even after having been involved in host committees for conferences (not the lead organization, but the lead group in the community in which the conference is located), I'm acutely aware of the "behind the curtain" activities. I'm also, as always, alert to possibilities for fun. [Note that I do take seriously the role of sponsors - they want and need to promote themselves, and they make the conference possible in return]
Tonight as I returned to my room I had to stop on the conference floor to change elevators. I almost just went from one to the other, but happened to see, from the corner of my eye, that the ballroom lights were still on. I walked in, and saw a hedgehog (the symbol of Hedgehog Hosting, a conference sponsor) attached to a helium balloon from the final sponsorship gathering earlier that evening. I thought at first it was the one I'd been trying to make float earlier, but it wasn't. Nonetheless, it was there, and throughout the huge ballroom were bunches of two or three or four balloons, beginning to hang lower as their helium leaked out.
I collected all there were and tied them to the poor hedgehog. By the time I finished, there must have been 30-40 of them lifting Mr. Hedgehog far above the crowd. I considered taking him downstairs and freeing him outside, but knew the balloons wouldn't last in the cold. Instead, I let him go in the atrium, where the balloons flattened themselves against the skylight, almost invisible from the floor below. I laughed, and then saw a guy cleaning nearby. I wished him goodnight and left, hoping that Mr. H would stay up until some conference next week.
I'll check in the morning before I leave, to see where he is.
Update: I know I shouldn't blog after slightly-too-much wine and beer. Edited for corrections and clarity.