SXSW Panel Recap

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March 22, 2010 at 12:00am

NSFW and may cause minor seizures.

As some of you may or may not know, I was on a panel called ExpressionEngine 2: Total Domination! (slides) at SXSW this year with the talented crew of Jenn Lukas, Ryan Irelan, Mark Huot and Brian Warren. Having never run a panel, nor finding many great resources, I thought it would be a great idea to talk about the events leading up to and the day of the panel, in hopes that others may learn.

It Begins

After submitting a panel to SXSW,  we kept waiting for notification or acceptance. Many, many panels were taken in over the course of our waiting and all of us had given up.

I never received a rejection notice from SXSW, so I assumed either we were on some panel waiting list or they disliked our idea so much they didn’t want to waste memory emailing us. The same thing probably happened to you with your application to the University of Phoenix. 

In February, however, the great news had arrived.

Pre-panel Preparation

Having a panel, we did what any group of people who do client work do: We started a Basecamp project. Initially, we had a discussion to make sure that the panel’s initial proposal was still legit and that it would carry on as planned. I wasn’t as flexible on changing the idea at first. Ryan Irelan, smart man that he is, reeled me in. That’s why you do these things in groups, and recruit people who are much smarter than you.

As moderator I set a series of deadlines on materials (outlines, keynote files, etc.) in the upcoming two months to ensure group input. Not wanting to put a lot of extra work on a group that already has a lot on their plate, we settled on rough deadlines with the goal of meeting and polishing in Austin.

Enter, Austin

When we got to Austin there was a looming shadow over our trip. Most of us were used to coming to Austin to have a good time, not to speak. I suppose if there’s one lesson you could learn from this it’s that taking a panel means you will have it hanging over you until the panel is done. It’s an honor to speak, but it’s still work. It’s like sex: it’s enjoyable and you’re grateful for the opportunity, but it still involves some effort by someone. If there’s an odder segue into the next sentence, please forgive me for not writing it.

So we knew we wanted to do at least one rehearsal to see how it went. It was amazing seeing the results. Some people nailed it. Some of us were crap. OK, nobody was crappy… alright, so I sucked. Everyone else did well, but we all had notes for each other. Not to toot our own horns, but this group of people got along really well and gave thoughtful, insightful notes with no egos involved.

Toot. Toot. Motherfuckers.

The practice went well, but there were some touch-ups and I was in desperate need of a complete slide/presentation Rework™ (affiliate link to 37signals book), so we decided to schedule another practice in two days: the day before our presentation.

Practice Two

Discovering the limitations of whiskey plus hours of sleep is an interesting rite of passage. Ritualistic, in that you undertake it less and less as time moves forward, but still undertake it. On one hand, your productivity drops to a certain degree, but on the other hand, you learn the level of punishment your body is willing to take.

In a situation where you need to, for example, completely re-imagine your presentation (or Rework™ [37s Affiliate link] it)  it would appear that whiskey would be a motivator. However, my friends, I’m here to tell you that initial tests prove you will lose a day and scramble the day before your presentation. You will then flop completely at practice two.  This will lead you to finish up your slides the night before your presentation.

So there I was, awake at 4AM, having finished my presentation hours earlier… staring at the ceiling.

That day.

Our panel was at 12:30 and we were supposed to be in SXSW’s green room by 11:30 AM. I arrived early, running through my slides and outline, making sure I had it all together. Slowly my fellow panelists trickled in. Mark and Jenn arrived first,  and Ryan Irelan shortly after. Finally, Brian Warren arrived last. We sat there and joked around a bit, some more nervous than others. A nice young hip-looking man came to pick us up and take us down to the conference room. “He must be here for music,” I thought.

Ready and nervous, I took a short breath and we went downstairs.

Our Presentation

We were seated at the front of Ballroom C or was it B? in the Austin Convention Center, counting away the minutes…

Everyone was chatting as I was hooking my computer to the projector. It was a full room, but not a packed room. There wasn’t a line, but it wasn’t a room filled with 5 of our co-workers and a guy sleeping.  I stood up and before I could begin talking I saw a hand raised. If I’m going to be an ass here on this crappy blog then surely I can’t deny another the opportunity at SXSW. I was sure it was a Wordpress enthusiast or someone who reads this crappy blog.

“A question already! Are we that confusing? Come up to the microphone, guy!” The room lets out a small chuckle.

He walks up to the mic and softly speaks.

“Everyone to ze floor.”

“What?” I ask, making sure I heard him right.

He yells now revealing a small submachine gun, “EVERYONE DROP TO ZE FLOOR!”

I look at the panel and, instinctually, we all nod, ducking underneath the table.

“Mark!” Jenn yells among increasingly louder rounds of gunfire , “Did you bring the twins?”.

“Always,” he speaks as his two Desert Eagles are lifted from his belt and firmly into his code-weary hands.

“Jenn, what about Old Yeller?”

Laughing and cocking her gold-plated double barrel shotgun, Jenn responds, “Time to put these dogs down.”

“Brian, your custom brew?”

Nodding, Brian brushes his jacket open revealing 5 amber Molotovs, their golden glow lighting our five faces… ready to go.

“Ryan, get a head count!”

Irelan gives a thumbs up and races off the platform, diving behind the presentation screen as a bevy of bullets traces his leap’s path. I pull out my Glock, Athena, kiss it and wait to hear Ryan’s count.

“10! I see 10!”

Just then, one of the men starts speaking.

“Get in ze corner, and you vill not be harmed.” They are moving the hostages and I hear the doors being closed. The accent was hard to pin down. Russian? Ukranian? What old enemy has come back to haunt us all.  Did it matter? We knew this day would come. The five of us feared it.

“Kenny,” Mark says, awaking me from my thoughts, “are you ready to present?”

I bring a lit match to my cigar and grin…

“Fuck. Yeah.”

I leap up, nervousness having turned into raw adrenaline. “Ryan, go left and draw their attention! Mark flank them from behind! Jenn you’re on the two in the back! Brian block off their exit! I’ll lay cover fire!”

Firing and firing, trying to avoid the hostages,  we move quickly like the team we used to be. It was like the old days, the ones we had forgotten, then ones we had tried to leave behind. The muscle memory is still there.

Three down.

“Mark! Behind you!”

Mark spins around, his shirt gets nicked by a passing bullet. His twins then quickly claim another victim.

“Kenny! GRENADE!” Jenn yells while taking out number 5.

5 left.

I leap to avoid its blast, but too late, the explosion knocks me against the wall.

“Kenny’s down! I’m hit!” Ryan yells, shooting and ducking for cover. “I couldn’t even sell my damn book, Kenny!”

A shot to the arm for him, not bad… not bad at all.

I lay there catching my breath. One of the remaining terrorists runs over to me, “It iz a great day vor death, American” he says.

I reach for Athena, but the man kicks it away, raising his firearm.  In an instant he lights on fire before my very eyes and runs away. Where a terrorist once stood ready to kill me, Brian was now standing.

“4 left,” Brian smiles. 

“Right on time you kilt-wearing bastard,” I grin as he gives me a hand up.

As I get my footing, I hear a gun go off. Brian falls to the ground…  I can only remember it now… in slow-motion… his eyes wide-open.

“Brian, NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!’ I lay by his side, weeping, “you were only two days away from retirement!”

Jenn and Mark, furious at the loss of Brian, let their guns cry this afternoon. Standing back to back they take down 3, injuring the final remaining terrorist. The one who started it all with a raised hand.

9 down.

I limp slowly, cautiously to the last son of a bitch who did this.

As he lay there in front of me, tears streaming down from my face from everything that transpired, I looked at my watch… 1:20PM.

“That’s our panel… any questions?”

*BAM*