I imagined MozCon would be a lot like my childhood summer camp experience. I’d sit awkwardly in a room of other awkward people passing around a beach ball stating my name and where I was from. I’d eat horrible cafeteria food and find solace in the only other wallflower at the evening social. And I was ok with that, because it’s Moz. I knew I would come home with some golden nuggets, and the torture of an adult summer camp would be worth it.