14.5 hours of standing or walking on hotel marble floors sends wracks of pain through your feet up your entire body. Recycled hotel air does horrible things for dehydration and dry skin. The constant barrage of questions and problems, combined with the abcence of sunlight, clocks, or any other means of determining what time it is addles your brain into this haze which allows you to forget the most rudimentary knowledge but retain things like Mr. Segal's 13 year-old daughter's name and how she was born on September 11 which really bums her out.
As a very wise person once told me, people who "get it" have a lot of trouble comprehending how other people don't get it. Working a convention is goddawful shit. But the concepts behind it are easy: keep your smile face on, treat everyone like a VIP, learn as much as you can about your surroundings and the event so if asked a question you don't look stupid. But most of all remember, we are all in this shit. You are not the only one suffering a difficult 14.5 hour day today. Nothing is going to be easy, and you will be asked to do things you weren't initially expecting to do, so remember the first three things and shut your crying mouth.
It is days like yesterday when I wish I could be that person who can never seem to learn how to do the things they'd rather not have to do, who blows off their responsibilities to take a nap or decides they'd rather not pitch in to solve the immediate emergency because they are scheduled to take a break in ten minutes. I am incapable of being that person, and therefore my reward is to make up for their shortcomings. As shitty as it is at times, I'm much happier that I get it.