...the hotel sent cleaning staff up to my room and, without telling me, packed up all of my stuff and moved it to another, smaller room. Those of you reading the preceding paragraph are probably thinking, so what's the big deal? Yeah, it was rude and unprofessional and the convention screwed up, but why mention it here, why make a fuss over it?
Oh, gentle reader. You have no idea.
You see, prior to getting started on year one of Babylon 5, I'd broken down every single season, episode by episode, onto 3x5 cards which I kept on a shelf in my office. Yes, the overall arc was in an encrypted file on my computer, but the details were all in the cards...because of the need to get as much material written as quickly as possible, I'd brought the cards with me to England...but when the staff moved my belongings from the small room I'd been given into an even tinier one, in their haste to clean the place out for a paying customer they threw out all of my notes on season five.
There are no polite words in the English language to describe my reaction upon returning to the hotel to discover what had happened. On what should have been the most triumphant weekend of my career as the executive producer of what MIT described as one of the three most seminal SF shows in American history, there I was, in the back of the hotel, tearing through plastic bags full of empty liquor bottles, disposable diapers, soiled clothes, used tampax, kotex, condoms, diaphragms and balled up clumps of tissue paper containing the remains of god only knows what horrors.
All of it...all of it...for nothing. The notes were gone.