One of this reporter’s favorite Dragon Con moments is the feeling that I am coming home, even though I live outside the US.

This homecoming begins in the departure lounge at the airport as I scope out my fellow passengers. Which ones are Dragon Con bound? I check for T-shirts or backpacks decorated with comic heroes, spacefaring adventurers, or rotting zombie flesh. (You can guess which one I’m wearing right now.)

By the time I jump on MARTA, I’m surrounded by the usual suspects who disembark at the Peachtree Center Station. I know my way to the Daily Dragon office, so I am able to provide the newbies with easy-to-follow directions to the Hyatt, Marriott, Hilton, Sheraton, and Westin.

Once I check into my hotel and pick up my badge, less than ten minutes usually pass (today was no exception) before my first reunion.

Hey!

How are you?

So awesome to see you…squee!

And then I’m back in the zone. Surrounded by friends and compatriots. All of us with the same goal:

To squeeze as much fun as is humanly possible into the next 96 hours.

Permanent smiles, people. This is the weekend you anticipate for the other 361 days of the year. Dragon Con is the reason you stay up all night sewing, gluing, and painting. Dragon Con is the reason you made your own coffee for the last three months. Dragon Con is the shiz.

And if you pass this reporter in the hall…high fives, eh. Rock on.