Sure, conventions can be great, for some people. So many opportunities to learn, to see the newest innovations, to be on the spot as new ideas and products are unveiled. To actually meet and talk to the innovators and artists. It’s wonderful, IF you love meeting people and talking to strangers.

But what about the rest of us?

Let’s be clear. My comfort zone is a spare bedroom where I sit alone amid sewing machines, rotary cutters, and fabric. Lots and lots of fabric.

As the introverted spouse of a very extroverted piano teacher, I have attended (possibly ‘been dragged to’) many music teachers’ conventions over the years. I’d have much rather stayed home and had a root canal. Since hubby is very involved, often serving as convention chair, his attendance has always been a matter of course. As an introvert, attending a convention of piano nerds and music aficionados, with the requisite luncheons, cocktail hours, and dinners, making small talk with strangers, is nothing short of soul sucking torture for me.

And then there’s quilting. I’d been to a few local quilt shows, quaint little affairs at the Moose Hall on the outskirts of Smallville where refreshments include homemade pie and Keurig coffee. But I wanted to attend PIQF, the Pacific International Quilt Festival in Santa Clara, California, one of the largest quilters’ conventions on the west coast. Although often held at the same facility, the music teachers’ conventions are statewide affairs, with maybe twelve hundred attendees, whereas PIQF is inter-national, with thousands of attendees from all over the world. Eek!  

Past convention experiences provided me with some strategies to help with the stress and strain of the music teachers’ conventions. I had to hope they would get me through PIQF.

THE PLAN—I didn’t want to appear like the rube I actually was. Fear of feeling (or being) foolish had kept me away from the larger quilt conventions. I wanted, I NEEDED, to be prepared. I needed to know where I was going. Once registration for the music teachers’ convention is confirmed, the planners send a package of information the size of a mortgage application, and somewhere in there is a map of the facility. Sure enough, PIQF was the same. Studying the activities, AND the map, I planned which lectures, showcases, and classes I wanted to see, WHERE they were and when. I created an itinerary for myself, I knew where I was going, and when, and had some idea what to expect when I got there. Preparation gave me the confidence to venture forth. Still, I knew convention can be draining for us introverts, so I planned respite time, an hour in my room with zero stimulus is not a waste. Recharging would get me ready to go at it again.

Once I got to the hotel, though, I had to regroup. Recent renovations to the facility rendered my map obsolete. Room names and structures had been changed! Much of my planning was for naught. I was provided with a new map, but the convention literature had the old room references. Panic set in, and I felt flustered and defeated. The room was closing in on me. Everything was wrong! So I went to my safe place which, conveniently, I had brought with me.

BRINGING MY COMFORT ZONE—One of the big objectives of (and for introverts, the objection TO) attending music conventions is to mingle, to meet people, to ask questions. But sometimes enough is too much. When I’ve met enough people for this day (or hour) and I just cannot do one more, I go to my happy place. I carry a small collection of favorite things. For the music conventions I have my iPhone, (stepping aside to check Facebook is a great way to momentarily self-isolate), and a small pad and paper for jotting down random thoughts, story ideas, lists, and to just look busy so people won’t bother me. Some food: cough drops, nuts, dried fruit, because blood sugar. And a fuzzy little hedgehog. (Don’t judge.)

Clutching my little furry friend, I took out the program, and determined which classes and other items I felt were essential. What did I really not want to miss? After staring at the two maps, trying to get some frame of reference, I realized there was no frame of reference: they moved the walls! I was going to have to ask for help. I took my program and the maps to the concierge and said I needed help. Whereas the program said the rotary cutter showcase was in Room C-105, the new map had no numbered rooms. There was the Sierra Room, the Comstock Room, and so on. And the outlines of the rooms and corridors showed the floor plan was completely different. The renovators had really done their job. The woman apologized, said it had been a problem for a lot of people and marked my new map with the activities I wanted to attend. It took a while, but we got things sorted out and I was on my way.

STOCKPILE SMALL TALK—This is sort of an addendum to #1, but it’s really different. Because my husband loves to go to the banquets, social hours, and other meet & greet events, it’s inevitable I will be called upon to engage in chit-chat, meaningless “How are you”s and “Nice to meet you”s with total strangers I will never see again, and God forbid, “Nancy, you remember Ellen? We had dinner together at last year’s Convention in Los Angeles!” Ellen looks like Everywoman. I have no memory of Ellen. I have no memory of Los Angeles. I lie, “Nice to see you again!” and wonder what on earth we spoke of at dinner, in Los Angeles, a year ago. (I don’t know about you, but about half the time I can’t remember what I was talking about at the beginning of a sentence, much less last year!) “I love your dress/shoes/hair!” and hope Ellen is sufficiently enthused about fashion to pick up the other end of the nothing I’ve just held out to her.

They say the best defense is a good offense: I try to make a game of getting the other person to talk. Piano teachers will talk about how many pianos they have, what kind (acoustic or electronic), where they teach (in the living room or in a studio space), what their students are doing. Most people love to talk about something. For spouses I use more neutral topics. Maybe it’s their pet, their grandchild, their boat. The list goes on. I figured quilters would have similar points. Much to my pleasant surprise, most just wanted to show and talk about the fabric they had already bought, and enthuse about a class they had taken or planned to take, with very little required of me beyond a friendly smile.

Have an exit strategy—Bear in mind, the old rules still apply: I stay away from politics and religion, keeping it general. If the other person starts down that path and I can feel the blood rushing to my face because they are driving headlong into an incendiary tirade, I just smile and nod. I’m not necessarily agreeing with them? I’m just letting them have their opinion. And then I excuse myself to the restroom.

DRESS UP—Again, this may seem obvious, but we behave differently when we look our best, and people treat us differently when we’re dressed better than they are. Fortunately, convention style is typically very casual, so kicking it up a notch is pretty simple: hair, make-up, earrings, matching socks, I’m good. For PIQF I also donned a lightweight, beautifully embroidered denim shirt I found at a thrift store, hoping to blend in, but this sort of backfired. Eyes lit up with admiration and people asked enthusiastically if I had made it myself? I felt like a cheater when I had to admit I did not. And then there’s the number one quilt show accessory: a large bag or backpack. While the Festival displays a mesmerizing array of quilts from all over the country and the entire Pacific Rim, (and as far away as Africa), and offers classes ranging from the esoteric lecture on thread choices to basics of rotary cutting, the main floor of the convention center is largely taken up with vendors. YES! Shopping! I can do this! Vendors will offer a bag for with a purchase, but with about a half-acre of vendors, to paraphrase, “You’re gonna need a bigger bag”. Now is the time to use that gorgeous (and lightweight) sling bag with all the wildflowers on it. My sister brought it back from Patagonia.

Yeah, she travels the world by herself, visiting butterfly farms in Costa Rica and hiking the Andes, I stay home and quilt. And now I go to conventions.