Enter the subplot. I become aware that there is a man who is trying to ship two prized pigs. He has taken some people who I label Armenians--they are Slavic and wearing black--to look at the pigs and tell them about his problem. Their solution: they want to go ahead and slaughter the pigs so fhe good meat won't be wasted.
I become aware that the stuff is scattered out of my suitcase, and because there are people nearby I start to worry that my stuff could be stolen and I try to pick it up. I begin to wonder if I remembered to bring my convention membership or if I left it at home. As I start to wake up, it occurs to me that the information I need should be on my flight pass.
All in all a frustrating experience. I'm surprised I wasn't naked, too.