The Irony of Navigating the UX Conference: Getting Around SXSW Interactive
By: Nur Icel
Tags: Navigation, UX, SXSW, Interaction Design

“The sign is pointing towards the door! We’re supposed to go in there.”

“I don’t think so — they’re still setting up in there. We’re supposed to go past it.”

Ten minutes into arriving at SXSW, and my group of classmates (friends, now, even fellow soldiers, of the grueling but amazing Human-Computer Interaction Masters’ program at Carnegie Mellon) had yet to locate the registration area where we could get our precious badges. Every sign pointing towards the badge area was a blend of hope and disappointment. One sign had an arrow that shouted REGISTRATION HERE, right above the stairs. Another sign, smaller, propped up on a stand, and placed right next to it, cheekily said, “Badge registration this way (not up the stairs).”

We made a full circle around the hotel, eager to get into the talks but barred by a lack of plastic and connected cloth that denoted that yes, we cared enough to put the time and money (ours and our institution’s) into signing up for SXSW Interactive.

Why was this so ridiculously hard?

In my education so far, it has been beat into our heads, time and time again, that Design is about realizing the needs of the user and addressing them directly; bridging that gap. Everyone at the Interactive conference, working behind a booth or peering at the collection of company swag in front of it, most likely knew this.

While the SXSW app is fairly well organized, it was much too overwhelming for me to deal with at first glance. Or second glance. Or third glance. Only when I had gotten off the plane and arrived at our location did I dare look at the upcoming events. The events are listed out, long and neat like a list of academic publications, the time above it and the location under it in an unobtrusive, even timid grey.

Me, in my ignorance, considering this is my first time at a conference of this caliber, thought everything would mostly be in the same spot. I was wrong. The exhibitions and planned talks were dotted in a sprawl across the Austin streets, which were filled with warm bodies carrying several different colors of badges. There was nary a non-badged individual in sight. Everyone was moving in different directions; I couldn’t even begin to wonder where they were all going. Did they know where they were all going? Was it possible they were as confused as us? Would they need to turn around after going two blocks the wrong way, too?

Our group consistently ended up following the most confident navigator, with mixed levels of success. It was never me; I was happy to just follow. The SXSW app shows you your location in congruency with the event you want to go to, but you can’t see a map of events around you. Therefore, once we decided to go to an event, we would spend several more minutes wondering, “how do we get there?”

I know what you may be thinking — the conference isn’t that large. It’s only across a few blocks. Use Maps or something, you lazy attendee. Maybe it’s your fault.

Well, I, in my everlasting confidence in what design can do for people, will say, no. It’s not my fault. It’s rarely the user’s fault. We design things to avoid the feeling of overwhelm and stupidity that comes from not knowing what to do next.

But it’s true. I can be lazy about these things. Let’s say you’re not. Let’s say you make it to the hotel the first try. Once you’re in the building, GPS isn’t useful anymore when it comes to getting to Salon 6, especially when all the Salons around you are labeled A-Z.

“Did you misread 6 as G?” Our friend incredulously asked our other friend. We all laughed, while the friend quickly opened up the app to scroll down and check.

He handed me the phone. “That’s a 6 — right?”

I looked. That was, indubitably, a 6, not a G. But for a moment, my friend doubted that basic sense of knowledge.

That happens. All. The. Time.

That’s what happens with poor design. It makes people question the things they know without a doubt otherwise.

In a user-focused design conference, shouldn’t our utmost priority be to make users avoid that feeling? Shouldn’t we pour the same level of attention into placing signs in clear locations, at least by avoiding arrows pointing into the wrong open door? In an event that needs to be set up so fast in so little time, shouldn’t we also consider that the attendees also have precious little time?

We went out that night. Thanks to our most confident navigator, we successfully made our way home. Today, we do it all over again, and this time, we can ignore all 30+ signs begging you to find the registration desk (not up the stairs).