Ask a veteran convention-goer which day they actually love and a surprising number will say the last one — when the urgency has drained out and what is left is a hall full of people who came for the same thing, quietly aware it is ending for another year.
Sunday is the undervalued badge. Crowds thin. Artist Alley cuts prices on whatever is left rather than haul it home. Vendors bundle things that were not bundled on Friday. Publishers discount remaining stock. The competition for panel seats evaporates and the convention finally becomes a social space instead of a logistics problem.
Closing panels run, and next year's dates get announced on the way out the door, which hands everyone something to look forward to before they have even reached the parking structure.
Take the train and stay until they sweep the floor. The last hour is the one people remember.