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“Vegas is what would happen if Axe body spray became sentient.” – my lovely wife

She made this astute remark as we left Caesar’s Palace, where we enjoyed brunch at the aptly named Bacchanal Buffet, our last meal in Vegas before flying out from our trip to attend ClexaCon.

As it happens, the lobby at Caesar’s smells exactly like Axe Body spray. Just outside the hotel, you can see a garish, presidentially named tower looming over the Vegas strip. Although undeniably fun by just about any standards, Vegas exudes douchery out every crevice of every carefully maintained faux-marble facade. Seemingly an unlikely place for the one of the very first all-media, multi-fandom conventions for/by/about queer women and their allies, a space to focus attention on matters of inclusiveness and intersectionality in TV, comics, and beyond. And yet, that’s exactly what happened this past weekend. And it went swimmingly.

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