Twitter is like an eternal convention.
Thousands of people milling around, chattering.
Twitterers and twits, everyone is welcome.
I browse the booths and hear knowledgeable people chat about cool, specific stuff. Experts who talk a great game, give free advice, and tell nifty stories that make me chuckle and go, “Nice.”
Others spout inane, completely bonkers stuff. Ideas that make me laugh, message my friends, and carry on.
The convention is intense. A firehose of info.
I jump around, trying to drink it all in.
Occasionally, I’ll make a remark that gets people nodding. I might even crack a joke and get a round of unexpected laughter.
Mostly I’m on an endless loop, passing my favorite booths, tossing heart signs to my favorite speakers.
I’m also there for the headliners. The rock stars. The guys and gals whose voices reverberate throughout the convention center. They stalk the stage, say incredible things, and ignite passionate conversations among the faithful.
Some fans applaud every soundbite. Others counteract with a decent argument or say something stupid, just to get a rise out of the crowd.
It’s amusing, especially when security gets involved.
A lot of speakers talk about how I, and others, can be successful at the same conference. That I should set up my own booth and talk about my own experiences.
They tell me that it’s important. That somewhere in the thick crowds is an audience waiting for me to reveal myself.
They teach me all ways to talk, engage, and mesmerize the crowds.
While I'm listening, some other attendees just do it. They set up their own booths and start conversations about their own ideas and experiences. It’s fun to watch, especially when the crowds start massing in their direction.
Some do very well and end up on the headliner stage. It's pretty awesome.
As for me? I glance around and see all the different booths and experts proffering their wares.
I look down and flit through a handful of calling cards I’ve collected.
19, as of today. I wonder why I don’t have more.
I tell myself, I should set up my own booth.
I find a corner and clear my throat. I say a few things.
Nobody hears me.
I say a few more things.
People pass me by.
One dude I bumped into earlier and exchanged calling cards with, he gives me a salute. But mostly, I’m speaking into the void.
The conference continues, an eternal buzz.
That's OK. Feels good to just speak up and get a few smiles!
But I realize right now, I’m quite content to just walk around, listening and learning. That’s why I’m here in the first place.
To nod. To offer a thoughtful response. To applaud the better soundbites.
Maybe one day I’ll have a booth among the rock stars.
Until then, I’ll be weaving through my fellow twits and twitterers, nodding, high-fiving, learning. I might pipe up now and again.
But that “waiting audience” I’m always told about?
They’re just gonna have to wait a bit longer, I suppose.