This reporter, having completed my Daily Dragon duties, decided to check out Friday night’s party scene.

First up, the ever popular Hyatt lobby. Each floor was packed with the usual scantily clad women and men (thank goodness), but to keep the traffic flowing, I couldn’t pause for much of a good stare. In retrospect, I probably should’ve loaded up on more eye candy before venturing out unsated.

After braving the lung-cancer strip, I took to the streets to see if Atlanta bars could live up to their reputations. I didn’t make it past the front door of the first place, having chosen to travel light, leaving my ID behind. When the bouncer, who was young enough to be my kid, decided he wouldn’t allow me to pass, I had a Gandalf moment and pictured the dude with a sizeable staff, and…well…never mind.

The off-key lilting of karaoke drew me into a diner. And there, singing Poison’s “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” was Obi-Wan Kenobi, accompanied by his air-guitar Padawan on the lightsaber. Holy-Jedi-moment, Batman, my evening was so totally made. For the rest of this con, I can be heard saying, “Obi-Wan Karaoke, man. Obi-Wan Karaoke.”

In a fit of find-me-the-happening-fun, I headed for the X Track Party in the Marriott. In all honesty, the hour was still early, midnightish maybe, but the dance floor was pretty sparse. Those partaking in the revelry included orange-lightsaber-wielding-dude (don’t get too close, man), skinny-mooning-guy, a pair of flailers, and the usual self-absorbed-goth-babe. I had a super-flash-back-to-high-school moment and moved on.

Sadly, most of the Friday night action seemed to be by invitation only. This reporter isn’t on the top of any VIP lists, yet. (Nudge nudge, wink wink.) Give me Saturday night, baby, or give me Rome. (Or is it death? I never get that one right.)