I had one of my panels drinking at one table, the other at another, and the estimable Christa Faust with her entourage at a third. I ran shuttle-hospitality missions among the tables with no great result except the possible germ of a revolution in the distribution of crime fiction in South Africa.
But all good things must come to an end when one has an 8 a.m. breakfast the next day. On the way back to my hotel, I found a familiar face enjoying a late-night pick-me-up in front of his hotel after a hellishly long travel day. Nothing says Bouchercon like Ali Karim with a glass of gin in his hand.
© Peter Rozovsky 2010