(The following takes place about 30 minutes after the previous chapter, though possibly not in the exact order described. Chances are most of this is fictionalized since I was probably too hopped up on prop Vicodin to remember.)

It was a long, hard drive home; made longer and harder when I took a wrong turn and wound up at the San Mateo Marriott San Francisco Airport Hotel: Yaoi-Con

Where women love men who love other men. Where if you lay every Yaoi fan end-to-end, it would cost you at least $400. Where if you want to know why so many people are up a creek without a paddle, it's because so many people at Yaoi-Con are carrying a Yaoi paddle without a creek. Where during any given hour during the convention, there is at least one depiction of some guy having something or someone shoved up his ass.

My right leg still stung in pain from hitting a table corner earlier. Luckily I kept a cane in my car for such circumstances (I occasionally, unintentionally, and painfully get a pulled leg muscle, which requires a cane for walking). It was my favorite cane with the flames on the tip that made it look like I'm going faster. I grabbed my favorite bottle of mint flavored Vicodin. Although I shaved Friday, I didn't shave Saturday so a peach fuzz moustache and beard was already forming. Add to it my bubbly antisocial personality, I limped my way into the convention. Is there a doctor in this House?

Having avoided the bar in San Jose to avoid a run-in with the Highway Patrol, the first thing on my agenda was alcohol. If I were going to partake in any Yaoi-related situations, the last thing I wanted to be was sober. While quickly quaffing my Bloody Mary, I scanned for convention friends. I spotted the Triple Changers Astro (Astrotrain) and Toggy (Octane). Xel-ko (Blitzwing) was arriving later. I played a quick game of tag with Toggy when I ran away from her while wearing her badge. I learned that it's not such a good idea to run away from a young, healthy person with two working legs when one of my legs is still recovering from getting hit by a table corner. After getting caught and returning the badge, I designated the Triple-Changers' hotel room as field HQ--a place to drop equipment, recover calories and stamina, and possibly socialize.

After defenestrating myself from the room (and running into my coworker who is on Yaoi-Con Staff), I wafted around to see how far I could explore the convention and where I could go. With my AMTSJ ticket being next to useless at the actual Yaoi-Con location, I couldn't really do much; not that I really wanted much done to me at Yaoi-Con. Based on field intel, Yaoi-Con featured a game room I forgot to visit, a Dealers Room selling Yaoi I didn't want to touch, a Masquerade I didn't care to see, and a Bishounen Auction that paled in comparison to the Full Monty I saw earlier in the day.

So I limped about the halls, locating several veterans of the SFSU anime club like Richie and Vince. Vince was particularly helpful in sending me to the ALA con suite (which just finished watching a "House" marathon) for food. I ran into DJ Sandman and the three of us discovered the crack that was blueberry cereal infused Pocky-like snack sticks. With DJ Sandman, I was able to run into Patrick and Raider3 and joined the trio in their hotel room now designated as the bar. We quickly caught up while I tried my hands at mixing myself a drink or two. I failed miserably.

BSaphire and I quickly caught up before heading in our separate directions. RyuHayabusaDOA2 was also in the same boat as I in terms of Yaoi-Con opinions and he took a few shots whilst I chatted with others about what I was doing at Yaoi-Con and why I've been walking around with a cane while popping pills. C'mon people... less Internet, more TV.

Having pissed off my bureaucratic boss Dr. Lisa "partypants" Cuddy during the past four seasons, I was punished with a night of Yaoi-Con clinic duty. I hate clinic duty. The cases are so mundane. I'll take a mysterious medical case with unknown variables and patients who lie to make things challenging any day. Wilson and the Cottages were unavailable so I turned to Blackjack for consults. The Doctor whose name I can't remember was also on deck in case I ever ran into cases of an extraterrestrial nature.

So I began diagnosing and treating patients as I saw them.

Symptoms: Two Patients sharing one mind while joined at the hip. Hair has stiffened to unrealistic positions unaffected by gravity.
Diagnosis: Patients are Siamese twins who accidentally stuck a fork in an electrical outlet.
Treatment: Surgical separation suggested, but Patients refused treatment because they bragged that they got more fangirl attention in their current state.

Symptom: Burning sensation on Patient's right big toe. Lingering aroma of sweat.
Diagnosis: Flesh-eating virus contracted while playing footsie with an unwashed Yaoi fangirl.
Treatment: Amputation of offending toe. No one pays attention to the big toe during Yaoi-Con.

Symptom: Patient's testicles have swelled in size.
Diagnosis: Patient has listened to AC/DC's song "Big Balls" and manifested testicles to match.
Treatment: Patient ordered to hold his big balls overnight for charity or fancy dress.

Symptoms: Patient on the left has sprouted cat ears. Patient on the right has the IQ of moss.
Diagnosis: Patient on the left was bitten by a werecat. Patient on the right is a blonde.
Treatment: Patient on the left was spayed and given a ball of yarn to play with. Patient on the right received brunette hair dye for a boost of artificial intelligence.

Symptoms: Patient had penetrating pain in his rectum and money missing from his wallet.
Diagnosis: Patient got screwed paying for his Yaoi-Con registration.
Treatment: Patient was inoculated to next year's Yaoi-Con prices by having him pay for my parking and dinner bills.

Symptoms: Patient complains of a stiff neck, chronic halitosis, and loss of appetite.
Diagnosis: Patient is deceased.
Treatment: Patient received a prompt transfusion of Claire Bennet's regenerative blood. Patient also warned not to throw himself in front of a bus.

Symptoms: Patient's muscle mass has increased while testicle size has decreased.
Diagnosis: Steroid abuse.
Treatment: Patient ordered to play for the Giants and change his name back to Barry Bonds.

Symptoms: Patient has fatal wounds, monosyllabic vocabulary, and a hunger for brains.
Diagnosis: Patient is either a zombie or a Walmart security guard.
Treatment: A bash on the head, that seems to work.

Symptoms: Patient desperately seeks his father's attention, fears he will cause the end of the world, and almost passes for a girl when wearing a dress.
Diagnosis: Patient is the biggest wimp in anime storytelling and needs psychiatric help.
Treatment: What do I care? I'm not a psychiatrist.

Symptom: The three patients are constantly fighting each other over each other.
Diagnosis: Love potion overdose.
Treatment: Patients ordered to engage in a threesome and charge pay-per-view. Proceeds will go towards Tom's favorite charity "Toy Guns for Tots."

Symptom: Patient's penis has increased twenty-fold with an erection lasting over four hours.
Diagnosis: Patient is simply bragging.
Treatment: Patient prescribed a picture of Rosie O'Donnell naked.

Symptoms: Patient's body is deteriorating while intelligence has reached God-like.
Diagnosis: White and black parasite located on Patient's right side of his waist is feeding off Patient's body in exchange for increasing intelligence.
Treatment: Decapitation. That head would make a nice title image for an intelligence game.

Symptom: An uncontrollable gravitational force that pulls objects towards Patient's breasts.
Diagnosis: Patient has swallowed a small black hole.
Treatment: Male nurses attempted the Heimlich maneuver to remove the black hole, but they were unable to get their hands off her chest due to gravitational pull. Male nurses aren't complaining.

Symptoms: Patient has become cold-blooded with sharpened claws and the strength and speed of a velociraptor.
Diagnosis: Presence of a Stand.
Treatment: Patient referred to Stand expert Hirohiko Araki. Only he can make sense of this.

Symptoms: Dark-haired Patient complains of being constantly tired and feels there's a giant weight on his/her back.
Diagnosis: A blond succubus is draining the life out of Patient while resting on Patient's back.
Treatment: One call to the Ghostbusters.

Symptom: Potentially cancerous lump on Patient's chest.
Diagnosis: The lump turned out to be one of the luckiest frogs I've seen.
Treatment: Frog surgically removed. Smitten by her dress, I proposed follow-up visits involving dinner, wine, and dancing (with the medical intent to check for appetite loss, liver function, and balance). Patient refused.

Symptom: Patient is vomiting razor blades.
Diagnosis: Patient is suffering from excess iron in her blood, but holy crap, that's a cool trick.
Treatment: A change in diet. All razors were donated to emo kids.

Symptoms: Patient (identified as Patrick Bateman) witnessed to have sudden urges to dance while analyzing musical artists, an irrational need to satisfy homicidal tendencies, and an even more irrational need to engage in homoerotic intimacy. Video footage of symptoms.
Diagnosis: Foreign contaminant traced to rented videotapes.
Treatment: Administered a B12 shot and excused the patient to let him return some videotapes.

Symptom: Patient complains of unusual growth on the crotch.
Diagnosis: Patient is one truly dedicated cross-dresser.
Treatment: Patient administered blunt trauma from a cane-shaped object. And I've gone blind.

Once I was rendered blind from Andy's panties, experiences became odd. As for judgment, it was time to let it go. First came a live demonstration of a visual sobriety guide. As per Doctor's rules, as a heterosexual male you should drink until a the girl you fancy is sexy (references hidden to keep my fancies unknown), but stop before you mistake this guy for a sexy girl:

During the convention, a request for an interesting OTP came up and I had the free time to respond, "Okay." House x Edgeworth time!

After that refresher course in dramatic posing, it was off to the lobby for the random antics usually associated with Di Di and company. I made good on my statement before Yaoi-Con: "I brought Orangina. Can I pass?"

On a whim, Patrick Bateman and I located and dragged Sarah (Patient with the frog attached to her chest) into the men's room for some private time. As gentlemen, we were not one to kiss and tell about what transpired there between three consenting adults. But all I can say was that Sarah was great at servicing both of us men...

...as a photographer from that one scene in "American Psycho." Get your mind out of the gutter. This is Yaoi-Con, not a gay orgy.

As expected of Di Di and company, while wearing "JoJo's Bizarre Adventure" costumes, JoJo poses are expected. for those uninitiated in JoJo poses, simply bend your body in positions not intended for the human body and you've got it. It's kind of the same way I position myself when taking photographs. Boy, were there a lot of time paradoxes in this impromptu JoJo gathering.

As my five minutes spent at Yaoi-Con grew to five hours, I knew I would eventually have to drive home or crash in someone's hotel room. Not wanting to attempt enough social interaction, familiarity or even charisma to find someone to crash with, I decided to begin countering the previously consumed alcohol (Dante's Long Island iced teas added to the problem) with caffeine to buy me some time to let the booze dissipate. A round of Pepsi for me and whoever passes for a lady around here!

During the process of burning up alcohol while dosed up on caffeine along with the minty effects of prop Vicodin,Toggy and I initiated in some interactions that were all for fun. The reaction afterwards matched what I was aiming for. I'm glad she was such a sport and didn't pack a taser.

A majority retreated back to field HQ to prepare for the next day. Di Di showed off her newfound school supplies and began styling a wig. After watching the SNL Presidential debate and not feeling too impressed at their mockery (needs more Sarah Palin), I sobered up and drove home.

Pictures are copyright by Traveling Valentine. If we took your picture, feel free to use it on your site or cosplay gallery. While you're here, do sign the guestbook. This site was brought to you by the font AucoinLight.