Much like your first date, or first anything for that matter (and I'll stop there), I'm sure many of you remember attending your first trade show. For me, it was in the 1980s at the cavernous McCor-mick Place in Chicago. Like a kindergartner dropped off by his mother for the first time, I recall being awed and overwhelmed by endless rows of exhibitor booths and their ware-hawking occupants, pulling me in more directions than a car salesman who needs to unload a fleet of aging inventory.rnOnce they discovered I was a member of the Fourth Estate, I subsequently dodged more bad pitches than a batter with restless leg syndrome.rnI also learned that despite a lifetime of gym attendance, there's a bold line between physical fitness and "trade show fitness." Trust me, they are mutually exclusive, as evidenced by a healthy number of foot blisters, reddened toes and aching legs during my early sojourns endlessly strolling trade show floors. But I also thrived on the face-to-face contact, meeting folks who had heretofore been faceless voices on the other end of the phone (this, of course, was pre-BlackBerry) or names included within press releases.rnNot surprisingly, I also extracted some of my best stories and forged news sources and professional friendships, many of whom 1 remain in contact with even today.
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