What Was My First Time at the Society for Neuroscience (SfN) Annual Meeting Like?

It’s my first time at the Society for Neuroscience (SfN) Annual Meeting — this time, held in New Orleans. It’s the biggest neuroscience conference globally, with over 28,500 attendees, countless symposiums, lectures, and poster sessions spanning an area larger than ten football fields. But even as an old-timer who survived four Woodstock festivals, I felt right at home, or more accurately, on an enormous playground, not bothered by the noise and commotion around me.

I admit this trip was quite relaxing, as I wasn’t presenting anything this time, saving me from the stress. However, I was covering my expenses, so I needed to be frugal. Luckily, I had a free flight to the USA due to my mother’s employment contract there. 

I also voluntarily spent 5 hours at the Atlanta airport, earning $600 for it. While I spent $160 on conference registration, $400 for lodging.

And $35 on taxis, my total earnings from the trip were $5. So, I can confidently say the mission was accomplished with flying colors.

I surprised myself in a positive way too. I managed to shed that unpleasant attitude from summer schools, where I often excessively compared myself to others, likely due to peer pressure. According to Festinger (1954), people have a natural drive to evaluate their own abilities by comparing themselves to others. This is especially true when no objective measure is available. 

How Do You Navigate the Poster Sessions?

This time, I embraced the fact that many posters were packed with complex biochemistry that I couldn’t fully grasp. I focused on familiar names in my field and attended related talks, but I also spent some time wandering aimlessly. Interestingly, it was during these spontaneous strolls that I met the most captivating individuals. Unexpected insights from entirely surprising sources absorbed my attention like a sponge. Lane et al. (2021) call this engineered serendipity. Scientists who share some overlapping interests but weren’t already close collaborators tend to learn the most from a chance interaction. According to Granovetter (1973), casual, weak-tie connections are often more effective than close, strong ties. They expose people to genuinely new information and opportunities.

Additionally, the computational neuroscience community is smaller than anticipated. I had an inkling before, but I was taken aback by its true scale. It has the classic feel of a Watts and Strogatz (1998) small-world network — everyone just a hop or two from everyone else.

When I received a social invitation at the Hilton Hotel one evening and saw that only one room was reserved, I thought it was a joke. To my amazement, around 200-300 people attended. 

Even more participants gathered at the Serotonin Lovers Club. It felt exclusive; after all, this is a community of brain enthusiasts who can handle numbers.

I personally know several experimentalists who feel comfortable in computational settings. But I can’t think of any instances the other way around. 

Is This Really the Legendary Worldwide Neuroscience Community?

Overall, it’s heartening that there are thousands of individuals like us globally. This allows you to know a significant portion of your peers on a personal level. It beats feeling like an anonymous drop in the sea.

Yet, one must also be cautious, as in this tight-knit community, news spreads quickly.

Now, it’s time to synthesize all that I learned in the USA, map out these networks, and get to writing. I’m grateful to have my fiancé and friends who are better programmers than me to assist in moments like this. It’s reassuring to have a supportive network when needed!