Well, it’s taken two nights of extraordinary sleep (13 hours and 11 hours, respectively), but I’ve recovered from last week’s trip to New Orleans. I made the journey with 1500+ other money nerds to attend Fincon, the annual “digital marketing event for anyone creating personal-finance content”. (We used to just call it a money bloggers’ conference. That’s how I think of it still. I’m old.)

As I do every year, I flew in early. Although the conference generally runs Wednesday to Saturday, I’m always at the hotel from Sunday to Sunday. I treat this as a mini vacation. Besides, I really really really like the quiet time at the start when there are only a few people around. It’s my favorite part.

This year’s trip got off to a rocky start. Corvallis is midway between the Portland and Eugene airports. Portland takes maybe ten minutes longer to get to and offers more flights for less money, but it’s also a frickin’ hassle. The drive to Eugene is pleasant and the airport has six gates. It’s a joy to travel to and from there. The downside? Well, the downside is sometimes — as for this trip — I have to get up at two in the morning to catch my flight. Ugh.

No worries. By flying in a couple of days early, I had a chance to recover from the lack of sleep.

Let the Good Times Roll

“I’m going to be good,” I told Kim before I left. “I’m not going to drink very much, and I’m going to watch what I eat.”

“WHY?” she asked. “You’ll be in New Orleans with your friends. Just do what you want for a week.” Still, I was resolved to exercise restrating. That resolution lasted for the one day that I was by myself. On that one day, I exercised for ninety minutes, drank no alcohol, and ate relatively healthy food. As soon as people began to arrive, though, all of that was out the window.

Because, let’s be honest, New Orleans has great food. It’s one of my favorite food cities in the world.

The good food started Monday night when a small group of us wandered around the city and ended up at Herbsaint. We were woefully under-dressed compared to the other patrons, but we didn’t care. We had fun and the food was good. (Turns out, Herbsaint is a highly-regarded New Orleans restaurant. We picked it purely by chance.)

At dinner, Ashley and I talked about autism. My doctor has been asking me to see a therapist to talk about “childhood trauma”. I’ve told her that I don’t remember any childhood trauma. “That’s why you need a therapist,” my doctor says. She’s convinced that my collection of symptoms is indicative of childhood trauma, and the reading I’ve done supports this conclusion. Anyhow, Ashley suggested that I complete the RAADS-R self-report questionnaire, which is designed to detect adult autistics. I didn’t know what to expect.

While taking the test, I sent Ash a series of complaints about the questions: they’re vague, they’re worded poorly, they don’t have clear answers, etc. “I think complaining about the questions is a big indicator,” she said. Sigh I scored a 90 on the inventory. According to the website, “A score of 65+ indicates you are likely autistic.” Apparently, I am likely autistic. Is anyone shocked?

That said, my score of 90 is well below the average score for autistic folks (around 150). In fact, my results for three of the four areas tested were just at the minimum threshold for autism. But my score for the fourth — “social relatedness” — was closer to autistic average. I struggle in social situations. No news there!

“This doesn’t surprise me,” Kim said when I told her. When I got home, she’d made a list of my habits that she considers in line with autism: hyper-fixation, inability to read social cues, etc.

Okay, back to Fincon.

On Tuesday, a group of us old-timers — Ashley, Miranda, Larry, Tom, and me — walked down Decatur into the French Quarter to have lunch at Coop’s Place, a hole-in-the-wall that some locals had recommended. It was fine. That evening, a very large and loud party of Fincon folks ended up at Felix’s. Again, the food was fine, but it was here that two notable things happened.

• First, Miranda single-handedly set off the decibel alert on my watch. This was the first of three times that she managed to do this. Wow!
• Second, I met the energetic Allison Baggerly. Allison has been coming to Fincon for several years, but somehow I’d never met her until now. (She has a story of briefly interacting with me in Orlando in 2018, but I don’t recall the encounter.) Allison and I ended up spending a lot of time together this year, and I’m glad to add her to my circle of friends. But we have very different energies haha. Sitting with her at dinner was…overwhelming. She grilled me about my current quest to de-google-fy my life.

I spent much of the next day turtled in my room, but I did come out for food.

Jewel of the South

On Wednesday morning, I had breakfast with long-time friend Andrea Deckard. Andrea and I met in 2008 when she, Toni Anderson, and Erin Chase started Savvy Blogging Summit in Colorado. That was my first-ever speaking gig, and it’s weird to think back to that time. I was a completely different person. The J.D. of 2008 is almost a stranger to me now. Andrea and I ate at Ruby Slipper just around the corner from the hotel. For two hours, we talked about our respective challenges with mental and physical health. Good bonding time, as always.

After breakfast, I retreated to my room for some downtime. In the afternoon, a group of us ventured down Bourbon Street to the vampire speakeasy. We sipped drinks from blood bags and petted the resident cats while laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

On Wednesday evening, our not-so-secret mastermind group got together for its annual Fincon dinner at Coterie. The restaurant was unprepared for us, and I’m not sure why. But they made it work. The food, drink, and conversation were good, although the space was cramped. (Someday, I’ll write about this not-so-secret mastermind. It is highly controversial in the Fincon community.)

After dinner, we wandered through the raucous streets to the 49th best bar in the world, Jewel of the South. Our verdict? The drinks were indeed damn fine but the service we received was shitty af.

We arrived at about 9:30 and sat outside in the courtyard. We were friendly with the waiter, but he was cold as ice toward us, refusing to utter even one word in response to our attempts at conversation. The place closed at eleven, so we didn’t feel like we were pushing politeness with time. He just wasn’t into us. I ended up paying the bill (everyone else sent me cash) and I left a very small tip. I never leave small tips. I’m usually a generous tipper, but this was easily the worst service I’ve received since before COVID so I felt zero remorse. In retrospect, I ought to have tipped nothing.

But, yeah. Jewel of the South has great drinks and probably has great service in most cases. Check them out when you’re in New Orleans.

Lobbycon

Throughout Fincon, I spent a lot of time lingering in the lobby. It’s my favorite part of the event. I enjoy randomly bumping into people and catching up on life. There’s magic in the ebb and flow that comes from bumping into friend after friend after friend.

On Thursday, I met Todd Tresidder for our annual breakfast. We put our name in at Ruby Slipper, then wandered around the French Quarter until they were ready for us. We had a long conversation about aging (Todd is 62, I am 54), fitness, and more.

In the afternoon, Paula Pant and I were guests on the Mile High FI podcast. Host Doug Cunnington asked us about sabbaticals and career breaks. Paula recently took a year-long hiatus to complete a prestigious journalism program at Columbia University. I, of course, am trying to be retired. Paula is diving deep into her business and is full of ambition. I am explicitly trying to be non-ambitious as I pursue the zen-like state of simply enjoying the moment. Fun contrast.

In the evening, Paula hosted a small group at Calcasieu to celebrate her 40th birthday. This was easily the best meal I had during my time in New Orleans, and it must have cost Paula a small fortune. (Thank you, Paula!) I sat next to Crystal Hammond, who is one of the most fascinating people I know. I’d like to get to know her better.

After dinner, I ignored the barrage of texts asking me to come sing karaoke. Trust me: Nobody wants to hear me sing. Nobody. I was in bed by midnight, and I’m glad I made that choice.

Letting Go

On Friday morning, I mostly turtled in my room. I did have a nice chat in the lobby with Ryan Guina, though. We ran into each other in the Starbucks line, then sat and sipped our coffee while solving all of the world’s problems.

I came out of my shell to have lunch with Julien and Kiersten, two of my favorite folks. There’s just something I love about their perspectives and our conversations. We chose our restaurant at random, stumbling into Lufu Nola, a sort of up-scale modern Indian place. I’m excited that Fincon is in Atlanta next year. That’s where Julien and Kiersten live, and I’m hoping they’ll show me one or two of their favorite spots.

After lunch, Rocky Lalvani and I met for our annual pow-wow. Last year, Rocky was responsible for helping me to find my “center”, as it were. He introduced me to Marissa Peer and her admonition to believe “I am enough”, which was what I needed to hear at that moment. It carried me though the end of my shitty 2022. This year, Rocky told me about Ally Boothroyd‘s yoga nidra meditations on YouTube. We chatted about aging and spirituality.

Each year, it seems that my Fincon has a theme. I know it’s simply my mind parsing events and conversations to create connections, but I like it. This year, that theme was the importance of letting go. I had so many conversations with people who are doing just that. They’re learning to let go of things. Or, in my case, I’m embracing the tao-ist idea of wu wei, of “effortless action”. To me, this means letting go of preconceptions and expectations, drifting with the flow of “the universe” (which sounds more woo-woo than I mean it), not fighting what life seems to be pushing me toward. Anyhow, I was shocked by how many of us are in similar mental places. Is it because we’re aging? Because we’re having similar reactions to the state of our culture? Both of these things? I don’t know.

After chatting with Rocky, I joined a large group for drinks at the carousel bar in Hotel Monteleone. Somehow we missed the hostess station and slipped our way to a large open space in the back of the bar. (Seriously, we didn’t even see the hostess was there.) We managed to bypass a huge line. The drinks were excellent — I had the Mezcál-cased Oaxacan Midnight — although the space was loud. But not as loud as Miranda on her own. 😉

In the evening, I was pleased to run into Tanja Hester and her husband Mark. Tanja is a mind bomb. Every time I chat with her, my brain feels like it’s ready to explode. I keep telling her that I wish we’d known each other in high school. She’s exactly the sort of person I connected with when I was younger (and now, it seems). Anyhow, Tanja and I have a shared love of pens and paper and other office supplies — as does Allison, apparently — but this year I was surprised to learn that she’s spent the last twelve months taking art classes, just as I’ve started to do. She showed me her progress over the past year, and I’m impressed. Her stuff looks great! I should have asked to purchase something from her. I want a Tanja Hester original.

Closing Party

Saturday was the final day of Fincon, and thank goodness. I can only take so much fun!

In the morning, Miranda and I were joined by Sarah Li-Cain (and her roommate, Jen) for a three-mile walk down Magazine Street to the Graden District. There we met several other friends for a guided food tour. It was a blast. Delicious. Cozy. Fun.

Miranda and I walked the three miles back to the hotel with full bellies, where we joined a handful of folks (Jim Wang, Ashley Barnett, Allison, etc.) in the lobby for a long afternoon and evening of laughter and conversation. The highlight of the evening was the two-hour Halloween parade up and down Canal Street. It passed directly in front of our hotel, where a bunch of us gathered to watch the show. Eventually we all migrated upstairs for the Fincon closing party, the only official Fincon event I actually attended this year.

That’s right. I paid several hundred dollars for a ticket (and a couple of thousand dollars for food and lodging) to attend a conference where I didn’t actually do anything. All I did was eat and drink and hang out with friends. And you know what? It was 100% worth it. I’d be happy to do it over and over and over again.

For many of us who attend Fincon, this is our second family. Over the years, we’ve spent a lot of time together. We text and email each other year-round with jokes and questions, etc. We have regular calls with each other. We go into business with each other. More and more, we go out of our way to spend time with each other when traveling. Sure, we live in cities across the country (and the world), but we don’t care. We share so much in common. Like autism, apparently haha.

Here’s the remaining few who have attended every Fincon:

Going Home

I woke early Sunday morning to make a harrowing taxi ride to the airport. I’m not joking. The driver was erratic in a sort of South American kind of way. (If you’ve ever taken a taxi in Lima or Quito, you know what I mean.) On the drive, we witnessed two strange things:

• A motorcycle flying down Canal at probably 120 miles per hour, running all of the lights at four in the morning.
• A junkie on a bicycle who ran a red light and got clipped by a car. Dude seemed to be okay, but my taxi driver wasn’t about to stop to check. He had lanes to weave through!

On the flight home, I watched an entire season of Survivor at 2x speed. It was the only thing I had the mental power to focus on. I was so tired! And that’s why after I reached Corvallis, I slept 24 out of the next 36 hours.