PyCon US 2026

Yes, And ...

It's hard to know where to start. Just last weekend, PyCon US was beginning to wind down. The entire conference felt like one long day.

Officially, PyCon US started on May 13th and ended on May 19th (this year, it took place in Long Beach, CA). But to me, it was just one long day with a few naps in between.

The multitude experiences far exceeds what my body and mind are typically used to.

So now, as I resume my regularly scheduled seclusion within my metaphorical hermitage, what better way to return to normalcy than to settle within the comfort of introspection—conjuring up recent memories through the magic of words!

And now, reflections on the conference through the lens of improv (thanks to Pamela and Evan).

Name & Motion

There's an improv game called Name & Motion, where participants introduce themselves with their name, accompanied by an unspecified pose or motion.

It is an efficient way to introduce yourself (name), as well as to indirectly express something about your personality (spontaneous pose). The range of motions and their intensity can be a tell as to how confident, reserved, silly, self-aware, or confused a person might be.

On the first few days of the conference, this is happening all over the place in real time.

People are going up to the registration desk, trying to remember both their name and where they packed their ID. Others are looking at directions on their phone wondering which way to the next session. And you can usually see the expression on people's face when they meet someone for the first time. Confident. Reserved. Silly. Self-aware. Confused.

It reminds me of the time Amethyst and I were thinking up a scenario that required another Mario to fully materialize. Not a minute passed by when we noticed another Mario walking up to the PSF booth.

I immediately introduced myself (that wasn't hard) and motioned him over to the video game area, so we could stage a picture of Mario, taking a picture of Mario, playing Mario.

There was no time to think. We had to act before we missed the opportunity!

What I learned for next time: Be more aware of both, introducing myself (especially to people I don't know), and giving them a signal that they have just met someone who is self-aware, unsure, but silly and confused as well!

Pass the Clap

Eye contact is uncomfortable, for some more than others. It is generally hard for me, though I try to be conscious of it, as eye contact can be a signal of active listening.

In Pass the Clap, participants stand in a circle. The first person makes eye contact with the person next to them and initiates a hand clap. The goal is for both players to clap at the same time.

Once the clap is passed, the person who received the clap turns to the next person and passes the clap to the next person in the same manner. The only communication that happens is through the eyes.

The game teaches that even though eye contact might be uncomfortable, it is extremely necessary for the task of coordination and synchronicity.

At PyCon, being vulnerable and uncomfortable, whether as an attendee, volunteer, or participant, ensures that the event runs smoothly.

Throughout the conference, there were calls for volunteers to help with everything from staffing the registration and information desks, helping as session runners or session chairs, setting up and handing out swag, and a variety of other responsibilities.

But aside from that, each person that attends also adds (or subtracts) from the kind of experiences others might experience during their attendance. Choosing to be kind, vulnerable, and helpful—all while giving and taking clues from others—creates an inviting atmosphere.

I found that the most meaningful interactions this weekend were when I made myself slightly vulnerable and uncomfortable, while also learning to anticipate and cooperate.

I know this sounds kind of esoteric. But it really does pay dividends in the interactions you have at places like PyCon.

At one moment, as I walked from one event to another, I glanced over and noticed a face that seemed familiar.

It took just a moment of eye contact to realize that we had previously met at PyBeach last year. We had volunteered at the registration table and spent some time conversing.

And that's how I re-met Lucy, as well as her friend Ayah. I tried my best to pass on my excitement about my conference experience, and the next day, I had the joyful honor of presenting Ayah on the lightning talks stage!

Three Things

During Three Things, a player turns to the person next to them and says, "Three things that ...", finishing the sentence with whatever comes to mind.

That person has to answer with the first three things that come to mind. Importantly, those things don't have to be true.

These three things are true, though.

The PSF Booth was awesome. I've volunteered to help with it ever since my first PyCon in 2022. I'm but a small part of the committee, but I get to work alongside some wonderful people, and seeing our planning come to fruition is an absolute joy.

Playing games in the hotel lobby at night is amazing. Sure, there are other things you could be doing during the night (sleeping included), but you'll make some awesome friends by laughing and playing together, guaranteed.

During sprints, every time someone gets a change merged, everyone claps. Everyone. And it's awesome.

Okay, yeah, that Osprey backpack made for some pretty good swag.

And my last night's outing with Campbell, James, Sharif, and Baptiste was a blast. We got some good food at Rice, ventured out to Santa Monica, and drove through Venice before calling it a night, all while singing along to Weezer during our travels!

Wait, that was five things?

Good news, Three Things can also become Five Things, you know, to up the difficulty.

Yes And ...

This is perhaps the most well known improv scenario. It's pretty self-explanatory. In the Yes And... Product Factory game, a group stands in a circle.

Someone places an item in the middle of the circle and then starts describing the object with a fictional description. The next person picks up the description by saying, "Yes, and..." so as to add funny layers to the evolving object description.

This is a whole ethos behind improv. By rejecting the impulse to shrink back due to self-conscious criticism, a player becomes a participator in an evolving narrative that they don't fully control—and it would be much different if not for their participation.

Admittedly, I did spread myself a little thin this PyCon. I did a lot of "Yes, and..."

I'm not complaining about it. I really enjoyed everything I ended up doing. I wish I had the energy and bandwidth to do even more, but sadly, I was constrained by time and space.

To recap, here are some of the things I got myself into:

• Taught a tutorial on database abstractions
• Delivered a talk on how to package a project and publish on PyPI
• As part of the lightning talks committee, emceed two lightning talk sessions
• Participated in the setup/teardown of the PSF booth
• Hosted an all day open space focused on art
• Attended a few different open spaces
• Tried improv for the first time
• Played games in the hotel lobby in the evenings
• Talked and shared meals with old and new friends alike

And there are things in between. (The hallway track is a thing...)

Perhaps it's a bit excessive. But for what it's worth, I didn't get wrapped up doing anything I didn't want to be doing.

Oh, and of course, there was also the great exodus toward the Long Beach Creamery thanks to Mariatta's traditional ice cream selfie. You really can't say no to that!

But it's great knowing that my contributions are also a small part of what makes PyCon great!

Yes, Lets!

During this game, a player yells out a directive that starts with "Let's..." The directive can be any scenario (such as, "Let's go to the circus!"), at which point everyone replies, "Yes, Let's!" At this, everyone creates (acts out) the described scenario without discussion, adapting to how others are interpreting the directive.

That continues until someone else yells a new directive, at which point everyone adapts to the new scenario.

On Saturday evening and Sunday morning, I decided to try my hand at emceeing the Lighting Talk segments. This was not something I had done before.

I'm much more comfortable being on stage knowing full well that I have prepared for what I am going to say (and even that is somewhat frightening).

The beauty of lightning talks is in how ordered, yet chaotic it can all seem. Many speakers are adapting their talks up to the moment they are called on the stage, and they have only 5 minutes to try to get their point across.

Some succeed with time to spare, others try to furiously wrap up as the audience claps them off stage.

And as the emcee, my job is to try to stitch together parts of the segment in a seamless way.

This is harder than it seems!

The lightning talks seem to pop more if the host appears relaxed and lighthearted. It seems effortless... And yet...

As for me, I was trying to keep track of who was up next and the title of their talk, as well as keeping track of the prior topic and who was delivering it. In the meantime, I tried to think of a couple of sentences that would ease the transition from one subject to the next.

Sharing a stage with Chris on Saturday was fun and intimidating (as he seems to have locked down the banter). And Sunday morning was also a treat, as I got to riff with Jay, as we sadly hadn't spent much time interacting earlier during the conference.

In the end, I'm pretty sure I blanked on some names and lost my train of thought a few other times, but it was also great fun! I may even try again next year if given the opportunity.

I Am A Tree

Similar to the previous game, in I Am A Tree, one player stands in the middle of the circle and declares "I am a tree." Another person steps in and creates a pose or action that adds to the scene (such as, "I am an acorn"). A third person adds to the scene in the same way (such as, "I am a squirrel eating the acorn").

And finally, the initial person removes one of the players, creating a new scene.

For example, if the tree takes away the nut, the remaining person declares themselves again (i.e., "I am a squirrel"), and the game continues as it started.

This game is excellent at helping you get over the question of how do I fit in?

These kinds of transitions are all over PyCon. One minute you might be in lunch mode, where you're suddenly at a table with people you may have just met. Next moment, you might be strolling the exhibition hall, and you're face to face with a sponsor's employee, and you're awkwardly wondering if they'll offer some of the swag you've been eyeing.

This year, I hosted an all day open space, with a focus on art and creativity.

(Check out Marie's awesome artwork!)

I had a vague idea of what it would be. We would have music, art showcase, a panel discussion, and so on.

The experience, however, would have been nothing without the attendees.

Juanita brought her guitar and egg shaker, Deb brought another egg shaker and a kazoo, and we thought long and hard about what songs we might sing together that somehow crossed our generational divide.

Ned and Marie shared some of the art they've created (yes, it's art, Ned!), and our discussions around this topic were varied and thought-provoking.

But somehow, by the end of the open space, I was playing a VR rhythm game!

Next up after that was a sponsored dinner atop a fancy hotel terrace.

And then later that night, I was reworking my talk for the following day.

Convergence

During Convergence, two participants face each other in the center of the circle and blurt out a word at the same time (on the reverse count of three).

Initially, these word can and often are very misaligned and seemingly unrelated.

Next, another two participants move to the middle and, on another reverse count of three, they try to blurt out a different word (at the same time). However, the goal is to say the exact same word.

The only clue they have is that the word should be related two the prior two words that were spoken by the previous participants.

This continues until participants converge on the right word.

The conference can certainly have this effect. Everyone is arriving within their own context. I heard many times from newer attendees that they didn't quite know what to expect when heading to PyCon.

It was extremely encouraging to hear each time that they had been surprised and delighted by the inclusivity and diversity of the community.

Sometimes, you're bound to find someone who's just the right kind of silly, who is definitely on your same wavelength (like Georgi)!

Other times, the convergence takes place over an evening.

After the ice cream selfie, I was walking with a group for dinner and realized that one of the individuals in our group was someone I had never met before. He had somewhat inadvertently tagged along with our group of eight or so and ended up joining us for some Mediterranean food.

We ended up sitting across from each other, and as we stumbled through our speed round introductions, ended up realizing that we had a lot in common (namely: an intense interest in worker's rights in lieu of the deterioration of workplace norms brought on by the tech industry's obsession with large language models.)

Josh and I realized almost in real time that we converged within a small community known as the Tech Workers Coalition!

These kinds of serendipitous connections are the lifeblood of PyCon.

Words of Wisdom

I didn't expect to go to PyCon to play improv games. On the whole, it was only a small (but significant) part of my overall experience.

Entering the Python community around four years ago, I didn't really know anyone.

This year, I seemed to be recognized quite often, perhaps because I somehow end up in a lot of pictures! (One of the side effects of volunteering for a bunch of stuff.)

I still deal with a great deal of impostor syndrome (I mean, who doesn't), so this last improv game seems fitting here.

During Words of Wisdom, the players in the circle put their hands together in a prayer-like position and they are informed that the Great Colonel Kosai, who lived many billions of years ago, will be imparting wisdom one word at a time.

The first player says a word, the second says a word, and players keep saying one word at a time.

When the group feels like the wise saying is complete, everyone puts their hands together and says, "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes..."

The next person begins the next saying, and the cycle continues until the group is filled up with wisdom for the day or night.

All this time and I haven't mentioned any talks, aside from the fact that I presented one.

I'm not trying to downplay this important (and perhaps primary) part of conference going. Believe me, speakers and presenters work very hard to ensure their attendees get something out of their presentations.

It is not lost on me, as I have been a presenter at many conferences and am always grateful to have an attentive audience.

But on the whole, I think most presenters and organizers would agree that we are all just a small part of what makes PyCon great.

It is a combination of all the bits of wisdom we have received through our own experiences, and it is only through our collective participation that we can see it formed more fully.

It takes a great bit of humility to ensure our community stays this way.

As a small parting vignette, I remember during the opening reception, I was at the PSF booth lounging around during the "meet and greet" with amanda, Sunday's keynote speaker.

We had previously met at North Bay Python, and I shared with her (again) how much I'd enjoyed her talk, especially in light of how much she had downplayed it beforehand.

As we continued conversing, I remember that she asked if she could write something down that I had said (I don't even remember what it was).

It was validating. My self-conscious, inner monologue tends to wrestle with feelings of inadequacy and the like—but this simple act is very much representative of what I value about this community of communities.

Each organizer, attendee, speaker, presenter, staff, volunteer, and anything in between—each person is valuable. Each person has a perspective that no one else is privy to, unless it is shared.

If you were at PyCon and felt a little lost or disengaged, it's not because you are lost. Instead, it is all of us who were a little bit less without you.

For you and for anyone else that was there, I hope that through this slightly gimmicky conceit of referencing improv scenarios as subheadings for this recollection, you might think about how to engage in a more meaningful ways in any of your future endeavors.

And if you didn't go to PyCon, there's always next year! Long Beach is nice this time of year.