Santa Monica's Ye Ye has lofty ambitions. One of these days, the microbiologist would like to defeat the SARS virus. Yesterday at the BIO International Convention downtown, though, her goal was more down-to-earth: a pair of Crocs. Size 6. Free.

PEGGY PEATTIE / Union-Tribune Nicola Schumacher (left) and Stacey Farmer took a break yesterday at the BIO International Convention in San Diego.

“I came here because my shoes are killing me,” said Ye, peeling off her black leather heels at the booth of RNL Bio, a Korean stem cell research firm that was giving away hundreds of pairs of molded plastic sandals. “I didn't know this place was so huge.”

Ye is a BIO rookie. Veterans know that the Biotechnology Industry Organization's annual conference, which opened Tuesday and runs through tomorrow, represents the entire scope of the industry. The San Diego Convention Center was jammed with booths and pavilions promoting small startups, multinational pharmaceutical corporations, law firms, biochip manufacturers, states (31 of them) and nations (34).

Regular attendees also know that this show is a freebie-hunter's paradise. True, major pharmaceutical companies are legendary for showering favored clients with all-inclusive trips to Caribbean resorts or Alpine ski lodges. For ordinary conventioneers, that's not happening. But if you set your sights a little lower – think Swiss chocolates, Puerto Rican rums, vials of bath salts and those sole-soothing Crocs – you'll have no complaints.

“You are in a major swag show,” said Carol Lavrich, a business-development specialist with the Henry M. Jackson Foundation for the Advancement of Military Medicine in Rockville, Md.

“Big Pharma is notorious for the big swag,” said Phillip Christmas, an account executive with the Geo Group, a Wisconsin firm that provides translations to global biotech firms. “They do it for doctors and hospitals. Now they're doing it for the industry.”

Take a quick stroll across the convention floor – well, try. It's virtually impossible. You keep stopping to snaffle goodies.

KansasBio is passing out NCAA-size basketballs. “Because we're national champions,” explained Angela Kreps, president of the statewide bioscience consortium.

The Chicago Technology Park? Miniature remote-control cars. “We're right on Route 66,” said Rachael Garcia, the director of marketing.

The Perkins Coie law firm? An emergency flashlight/beacon to stash in your car; it comes complete with a razor blade. “To cut away your seat belt if you've had an accident and are hanging upside down,” said Jeff Miller, a lawyer in the firm.

Not every freebie was designed with serious intent. Companies handed out drumsticks, baseballs, hacky sacks. Annually at this conference, the law firm of Fish & Richardson gives away stuffed sea creatures. “We have people who come every year because they have a collection,” said Roxanne Smith of the firm's marketing department.

“We have no life!” joked Adrian Panow, director of Energy Investment Facilitation for Victoria, the Australian state, grabbing a stuffed fish for his kids.

For some conventioneers, there's a method to this madness. Rosie Gonzalez, from Takeda Pharmaceutical in Deerfield, Ill., spent much of yesterday snagging ballpoints. “I supply our whole office with pens,” she said.

Prowling the aisles can give you an appetite; on opening night, many vendors rolled out generous spreads. There were Coronas from Mexico and Saranac Pale Ales from New York. BioNebraska carved up bite-sized tidbits from Omaha Steaks. The French pavilion overflowed with salads, sandwiches and plastic flutes of Saint Hilaire, a sparkling wine. There was something for everyone.

Or not. “Thees,” sneered one Frenchman, examining the Saint Hilaire label in vain for the Champagne Valley appellation, “ees not champagne!”

No. But for the industry's have-nots, the French spread was unimaginably rich. At the booth occupied by Asiatic Clinical Research, a lab based in Bangalore, India, and Alpharetta, Ga., the freebies were meager: fridge magnets and miniature Hershey chocolate bars.

“This is the first time we have had a booth here,” said director Mithra Bindhu. “This is all we can afford right now. Besides, people aren't really here for the giveaways.”

That may be true. But at some booths, you could ask for the earth.

Rick Allely, business development coordinator for Sioux City, Iowa, sat at a table devoid of candies, toys, tchotchkes. What was he handing out?

“For the right company that wants to relocate,” he said, smiling, “land.”