Fear and Loathing at GenCon, Part I
We were 37,000 feet above Nevada when the drugs took hold. It was no use objecting to the flight attendant ó about the giant bats, I mean. One hit die (are giant bats that lame?!) was more than enough to worry us (me and my lawyer, I mean) especially when the venti decaf drip and can of Pepsi began to make their way through my system at just the time we were supposed to land in Denver. Of course, the plane before us wouldn't vacate its gate.
"Five minutes," the pilot said. Which, of course, you know, is pilot code for "At least twenty, so buckle down and pray your bladder doesn't blow up." Luckily, it didn't explode (my bladder, not the plane) before we pulled up to the gate and I could rush off to relieve myself.
So I arrived in the vicinity of GenCon, in Indianapolis, having been retrieved from the airport by the inestimable John Nephew, potentate of Atlas Games and fount from which all employment flows.
Item the first: Shower. Shave. So far, so good.
Item the second: A pleasant drink in pleasant company. Gin and tonic. A bunch of luminary game designers with class, poise, subtlety, and intelligence. Suddenly, it is 1996 and I am a freshman, except that now I have the sense to fake it, rather than gawk.
Item the third: Games Quarterly contributor dinner, complete with outgoing waitress, Total Disorder Porter (good stuff, highly recommended), and a tasty chicken/artichoke/broccoli entrČe. (Please be aware that actual research effort was just now expended to ensure proper placement of the accent in "entrČe." My lawyer advised accent accuracy to ensure you, the jefftidballdotcomland reader, that this is not a half-assed weblog with accents that fall about drunkenly.)
Item the fourth: Diana Jones award party, at which My Life With Master took the prize and many old friends were caught up with. You will ó perhaps ó recall my commentary about My Life With Master made just after GenCon 2003. I can't be bothered to link to my actual blog post on the subject (who can find such things a year after the fact?), but here's a the My Life With Master review page, which quotes my comments of last year. I stand by them, one hundred percent.
My lawyer advised against all of this, you should know, if you're keeping score at home.
Finally, in a fit of conspiracy against me, the poker game at the Hyatt broke up just before I arrived. Perhaps tomorrow night.
If there is a "tomorrow night."
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