I’m much too fried to offer a full report on the rest of the day, since my body insists on remaining on West Virginia time rather than switching over to Burbank’s. But here’s at least a taste …

I came down to meet my dinner companions only to find one of them, Gene O’Neill, autographing signature sheets for the upcoming lettered edition of The Hunger of Empty Vessels, which meant that I was waylaid to sign them as well. I didn’t have time to finish the batch, because the rest of the motley crew had assembled, and we needed to head out early to make sure we got back in time to take part in the evening’s activities.

Here we are in front of the Marriott, ready to set out in two cabs for a restaurant that isn’t immediately across the street:

For those of you unfamiliar with these faces because you have better things to do than eyeball Post Office wanted posters, that’s Scott Browne, Gene O’Neill, me, Gord Rollo, Eunice Magill, and Derek Clendening. To find out where we ended up and how the rest of my evening went, you’d better check back later … because I heard the pillow call my name.