ICM is held in a fairly remote conference center near the airport. The organizers had the good sense of not recommending the hotels next to the conference center but rather a number of hotels midway between there and the city center, so one can get to the conference with a short subway ride and also not be in the middle of nowhere. The recommended hotels, however, were still quite out of the way, and, by the information I found online, they sounded big and anonymous. So I got a reservation in a nice smaller hotel that is not far from Plaza Real and other touristic attractions, and it is also in what seems one of the cool neighborhoods, with a lot of bars and restaurants, including many gay bars. It takes, unfortunately, a good 45 minutes by subway to reach the conference center.

So this afternoon, as I was checking in at the hotel, being very proud of my choice, wearing an A&F shirt, faded jeans and Kenneth Cole shoes, and feeling as non-nerdy as I can get, the person behind me in line waves hello and asks: “Are you here for ICM too?”

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