The show hasn't even technically begun and I woke up with stabbing back pain, which makes me feel like I'm about a hundred and fifty years old. Could barely wash my hair in the shower because my arms didn't move that high up. This can't be good. There's a train that comes, presumably, down my hotel hallway at precisely 2:40 and 5:40 in the morning. Siiigh.

Paul Allen's enormous yacht, the Octopus, is parked outside the convention center. That thing is obscene. 413 feet long, which even for a boating novice like me, seems out of control. We saw a helicopter land on it on Friday night and stood there slack jawed.

Food report: Oysters on the half shell are a girl's best friend. Oyster shooters (a shot of vodka with cocktail sauce, horseradish and a fresh oyster) are a close second. Abita beer, a local brew made by a New Orleans bottled water company, tastes exactly like...bottled water. Refreshing yes, but definitely not beer-like.