Now that it's been a couple of days since I returned to the warm embrace of the Garden State from my excursion to Boston, I figured I would share my experiences so that future generations may recount my bleak tale and learn from my mistakes.
First things first: How not to get there.
This one is pretty simple. For those of you driving from Jersey, or whatever loser places that aren't New Jersey but kind of close, do not, I repeat, do not take the George Washington. Driving through New York City is like driving across the event horizon of a black hole. Time and space begin to break down, east will become west, black will become white, and you'll end up in the Hamptons nine hours after you got off the Parkway without any idea how you got there. Do yourself a favor, and take the Tappan Zee.
Second: How not to keep track of your Three-Day pass.
When they give you that lanyard to clip your pass to, wear it as the instructions say, that is, around your freaking neck. Attempting to look cool by tying it to your belt loop, like I did, in a vain, not-subtle attempt to draw people's gaze to my crotchular region, will only result in walking up to the security guard, and grasping at only the empty air that was once your key to the untold wonders inside the BCEC.
Now, if you plan ahead, and save the confirmation e-mail they send you, they can give you a new pass if this happens on Friday or really early on Saturday. However, you will look and feel like a huge tool.
Third, and most importantly: How not to lose your car keys 250 miles from home.
Easy. Leave them in your hotel. Just don't bring them. You don't need them. However, if you're like me, and you bring your keys to PAX East, you are asking for trouble.
Bright and early Sunday morning, I confidently strode to my car in the hotel parking lot, ready to place my bags in the trunk, when I reached down to my belt loop (in retrospect, I should have seen this coming after losing my badge) and once again, felt only a mocking breeze of Ramada Inn hotel air against my fingers.
WHEN YOU LOSE YOUR CAR KEYS SUPER FAR AWAY FROM HOME:
Step 1: Don't panic.
Step 2: Seriously, don't panic.
Step 3: Okay, panic.
Step 4: Retrace your steps. Go back to your hotel room, and turn the place over. No Keys? Move on to step 5.
Step 5: Panic more.
Step 6: Go back to M.J. O'Connor's bar and sheepishly ask the manager if they found your keys after you spent the previous night too starstruck from being in the same room as Ken Levine to notice if the means to your return home were missing. Still no luck?
Step 7: I honestly forget what I did after that.
Step 8: Run into felonius, nintendoll and finally I.G. Ratana inside the convention center and explain to them how totally boned you are.
Step 9: Listen to their mocking laughter. (they didn't actually laugh at me, this is for comedic effect. they were geniunely concerned)
Step 10: Do what you should have done seven hours earlier and call AAA.
Step 11: Wait 90 minutes to two hours until the locksmith gets there.
Step 12: The locksmith is going to make a key. Apologize profusely for having him drive all the way out to your crappy hotel in Dorcester on Easter Sunday to make you new car keys, you inconsiderate jackass.
Step 13: Ten hours after you previously intended to go home, drive home, taking note to have one thing go right today and take the freaking Tappan Zee home instead of driving through Manhattan.
Step 14: Profit.
Hopefully, I will have insulated the youth of tomorrow from my hubris, arrogance and mind-numbing stupidity with my cautionary tale. Take heart, children, and remember:
Always wear your lanyard around your neck, I'm super serious you guys.