True Tales From Conventions: Touching Myself

The first convention I vended at was ICC 2008.  I had driven out to Detroit with a box full of scarves and bags.  I was nervous as hell: I was getting divorced, I had been out of the job market for four years, 2008 was … well 2008, and I was unsure how I was going to support myself and my daughter.

I spent the weekend sitting at a table with my friend Sarah B, taking a crash course in how to vend.  I learned first hand about the weird, frantic energy that comes with interacting with a lot of people in a small space.  Add in not enough food, not enough rest, not enough breaks and you get the following:

roach (talking to a customer about a scarf): Yes, I love the tactile nature of the material.  You just can’t help but touch yourself when you wear it.

Sarah B: roach!  (Sarah B physically inserts herself between roach and the customer and sends roach to the corner to sew beads on bags.)

The moral of the story is: always have a friend who is willing to intervene when your filter comes loose.

Published by



roach (aka Raechel Henderson) has lived most of her life in the cage of other people's lives. She dyes her hair pink because what is the point of having hair if you can't look like a superhero? Currently she is dealing with mental health issues, including depression and anxiety (with a dash of panic attacks thrown in for flavor). She is married to a super hot warrior-poet and is the mother to two brilliant children. Her goal with this blog is to chronicle her attempt at healing herself, and living a creative and happy life.