What is it that takes at least a year to prepare for, goes past in about five seconds, and yet feels like you’ve been doing it forever? What defies all known rules of space and time and sends Einsteinian scholars into a hair-ripping tizzy?

The answer is … The Romantic Times Booklovers Convention. This year, St. Louis was the happy host to what seemed like millions of romance readers, along with multitudes of writers, publishers, promoters, agents and extra waitresses at the bar.

Awards were handed out, meals devoured, books pitched, ideas polished and large amounts of liquor disappeared on a nightly basis, corresponding to the increased noise level in the smoking area of the lounge.

So the preparations? Well, the costumes - of course. While not a necessity, it soon becomes apparent that this is a time to play “dress up” and nothing beats swishing through a hotel lobby in a ball gown. So decisions need to be made quite early on (like about ten months ahead of time) in the whole prep process…what’s my fantasy? (For the Ellora’s Cave Fantasy kick-off party.) How medieval do I want to get? (For the costume gala ball.) Should I go Goth or genuine vamp? (The Friday night fright fest/Vampire Ball hosted by Heather Graham). And lastly there’s the Saturday night affair - this year with a Roaring 20’s theme. Those allergic to feathers should’ve been warned right there!

After the whole clothing thing is settled, the suitcases are packed and several skycaps sport new hernias from unloading your luggage at the airport baggage claim, it’s time to get to the hotel and settle in. This takes about five minutes, give or take. After hanging up stuff, picking feathers out of the undies, and shoving makeup into the bathroom, it’s definitely time to go scope out the hotel and find one’s friends. At the end of an hour, the bar has been located (priority number one for many of us), smoking places have been scouted and vetted, the nearest supplier of coffee identified and of course many squealing hugs have been exchanged. All before you’ve registered for the whole darn shebang.

So already it feels like you’ve been here for ages - real life fades into a dull background noise which only intrudes when your cell phone rings and your husband inquires a) if you got there okay (like you’d be talking on your cell phone if you hadn’t), and b) if you remember where you put that packet of batteries for the tv remote you bought last weekend.

The time distortion has begun, only to continue when you realize you’re dressing for the first party, you don’t remember if you ate dinner, you have no real concept of what time it is - and above all… YOU DON’T CARE. You are among friends, like-minded romance lovers who can discuss characters at length (and the length of some characters(giggle)) with all the fervor of a baseball fan reeling off batting statistics on Opening Day. It’s the Super Bowl/World Series/Stanley Cup of romance novels all rolled into one HUGE event and you’re already hip-deep in bookmarks and promotional materials, not to mention books.

The following day you crawl out of bed, scrape off the residual makeup you forgot to remove last night - or was it real early this morning? - and promise not to drink again. Ever. Needless to say, you’re lying to yourself, since this day repeats the one before with more laughter, more dressing up, more partying and an even later night! You learn how to drink a cocktail that has a name you’d never dream of ordering from a waiter unless you knew him VERY well. You don’t use your hands at all but you still manage to get delightfully tipsy. Photos are taken and you make a note to get the negatives - BEFORE they get posted up on the Internet.

By now, you are starting to feel the true effects of the spatial discontinuity. You’re at home here with these people. It’s been WEEKS since you even thought about your home or your real life. You’re having waaaay too much fun to even think about whether the cat is being fed regularly or not. That’s your other life, not this one.

Suddenly, with the speed of light, it’s the last day and you’re saying goodbye. How can this be? You just got here. You haven’t even finished picking the feathers out of those undies and you have stuff you haven’t worn yet. It’s one more example of the “RT Time Warp” and before you fully comprehend the situation, you’re back home, staring at the detritus you shoved into your suitcase and wondering what the heck you’re going to do with quite so many bookmarks, pens and - of course - books.

The RT Convention is the experience of a lifetime for romance lovers. It’s fun, it’s frantic, it’s wonderfully wild, and it’s over all too soon. However, we all take comfort in knowing that after we’ve unpacked, taken costumes to the cleaners, stocked up on catfood and finally found that battery pack for the tv remote - it’s time to start doing it all over again for next year!!

Look out Daytona! The Wild Bunch is starting preparations already, and it has NOTHING to do with motorcycles.