I saw love a-blooming today, in the dealer room. The dealer room is the place where you buy shit. There are some books, of course, but plenty more weapons and paintings of half-naked men and women riding dragons and weird statues of half-wolf, half-men creatures with six packs and disturbingly erotic stares. A young boy, not even sixteen, was looking at some action figures. A girl was standing next to him, and she said, very thoughtfully, “I never felt the need to collect figurines.” The boy nodded, and then the girl said, “But they’re so cool to look at!” The boy’s voice filled with love for the girl: “You think?” Then they held hands. I think they’ll have cute little nerd babies one day.

Also heard in the dealer’s room, from an older man as he hefted a double-headed mace: “All I need now are some nunchucks and I’ll be set.”

And then, someone in the bar where I am now, someone loudly announced: “We are Vulcans. Give us beer!”

It’s the most stereotypical thing I’ve heard all weekend.