What'd I miss? P5: Not the sharpest pencil in the box

All 400 Joco cruisers got a swag bag filled with goodies, among them the right to have our pencil sharpened by artisinal pencil sharpener David Rees.



This photo from Mirka23's flickr page lives here.

The closest I got was getting a number one night, but I am too impatient to wait half an hour, so my pencil remains unsharpened. Our friend Jeff also brought aboard some "bootleg" pencils to be sharpened, labeled "Team Joco".


Angela (Cernoise) was lucky enough to get video of the experience before Rees instituted the "still photos only" policy.

This video lives here.

What'd I miss? P4: I'm Colleen you out

Note: This series of events I regretfully missed while on the cruise was too long for a single post, so I'm publishing them in staccato bursts (semi-)daily until I run out.

I spoke to almost all the celebrities on the cruise, to my own great joy, but there's one person I didn't say hello to. So I'm saying it now.

Hi, Colleen!

Let me back up.

I've made the comparison between the Joco cruise and PAX several times now, always favoring, highly, the cruise. This is largely because I'm not that much of a video gamer, truth be told, and since my friends mostly are, I wander around the event hall, watch other people play video games, fail miserably in my attempts to play the games, and generally get bored.

PAX 09 I decided this was the wrong way to go about it all. I brought along Zombie Fluxx and decided, shyness be damned, I was going to meet some people and play some games. So while the rest of my friends waited in endless lines to play 3 minutes of Dragon Age, I went up to wait in line for the musicians Q&A. Jonathan Coulton and Paul and Storm were all going to be there, and since I'd seen them live, I thought it would be a fun panel.

I was first in line, because I had nothing better to do. I sat there nervously for a few minutes before being joined by the second person in line.

This was Colleen, and she agreed to play Fluxx with me. I invited the two people behind us too, but they were too cool for such things (see, another thing that would not happen on the Joco cruise). So the two of us talked, and played, and she told me about how long she'd followed Jonathan Coulton (an insane amount of time, by the way -- like since almost his first show!). In the end, I think she won the game. After an hour the doors opened, and we went in. What I took from that was: Hey, I can get to know people pretty well if I do it over a card game. And people who like to play games with me are probably going to be worth getting to know.

And of course Colleen was on the cruise. This is the Joco Superfan after all. We never ended up in the same circles, so I never got to demand a rematch. Or generally catch up. And that was something I regretted.

So thanks for being cool, Colleen, to me that very first time I dared ask a stranger to play a game. If you'd been mean or dull or any of a hundred other things, I would never have used the same trick to form the new friendships I did on the Joco cruise. And that would have been truly tragic.

Here's Colleen's post on her blog about the Joco cruise:

http://colleenky.livejournal.com/149248.html

And here's a bit of cruise life I'm so glad Angela captured of Colleen's mini ukulele performance. If you could boil the non-celebrity parts of the cruise down to its best parts, I think it would look just like this:

What'd I miss? Compilation edition.

I've missed so many new posts, ack!

I missed most of the late night shenanigans and tomfoolery because I was sleeping.  If I don't get at least 6 hours of sleep I'm a zombie, and I had to wake up early most mornings for work stuff.  In retrospect, zombie mode beats the hell out of next-day regret.

I missed participating in the Deep Sea WiFi Temperance Brigade.  I'd  just been assigned to a new project and it seemed bad form to disappear at that point.   By about Tuesday I was sort of bitter about having to sign/call in every day, and it colored most of my mornings a hazy gray.  Lesson learned for jccc2:  it's my vacation.  I've earned it, and I deserve it.  All the other stuff can pound sand.  (big words now, right?)

I missed The Bombing of the Nick because I was sleeping.   In many years I've never seen the guy tipsy, and I missed out on what sounded like a fabulous opportunity. 

I missed taking a trip to the spa -- nothing to blame for this other than my own inertia.

I missed my daily intended intake of 2 pina coladas.  This will be rectified the next time. 
 
I missed meeting at least 150 of you.  This will also be rectified.

Many of these lead me to "What'd I learn?" -- may have to flesh some of those out for a future posting.

Da Six-Fingered Mon: If Count Rugen Were Jamaican

Hello, I'm Angela, and muahahaha, I now have access to post on this blog! Taking over the world will soon follow (you can tip me later.) I drew this JoCo Cruise Crazy/The Princess Bride crossover comic:

You're probably all Sea Monkeys, so I don't need to explain as much here as I did when I posted this on my blog. But if you are not familiar with The Princess Bride, you might want to watch these clips. I decided that Westley would say Fezzik's line in the last panel so that I could make the others say 'Shut up, Westley!'

If you missed the Q&A session, you might also want to watch this video from about 19:48 onwards. Credit to Kevin Murphy for the idea of braided beards, although I'd already thought of it about ten minutes before he said it. There's also a quote from My Monster in there, which I missed half of and must get around to watching on YouTube.

It's not that I didn't enjoy Jamaica at all. Jamaica was the low point of the cruise in the same sense that the perigee of the International Space Station is a low point.

By the way, I’m perfectly aware that the characters are standing in mid-air or on a railing in the first two frames, and Count Rugen changes colour in subsequent frames. If I’d had a better photo with ‘Welcome to Ocho Rios’ on it, and any illusions of being able to draw well, and an iPad app that kept the current colour between documents, I might have tried to fix that. Instead, I stuck with what I had drawn on a leisurely evening with my iPad in a café-bookshop.

Also, I can’t remember whether the touristic signs in Jamaica used ‘Da’ or ‘De’ for ‘the’, and the wikipedia articles on Jamaican English and Jamaican patois don’t seem to say one way or the other. I suspect there is no official spelling. So I went with ‘Da’ in the title of this post; if that’s not correct, I’d love to hear why.

What'd I miss? P3: Band of Beardalos

Note: This series of events I regretfully missed while on the cruise was too long for a single post, so I'm publishing them in staccato bursts (semi-)daily until I run out.

I wouldn't have been allowed into the meeting of the beardalos anyway, since I haven't reached that special time in every woman's life when I sprout my first chin hair. (Although I did secretly hope the meeting of the beardalos would be nothing but women in fake beards a la Life of Brian.) But Taylor was excited about the experience, though, and was disappointed when, after an hour or so at the farewell party, nothing had come of it. He gave up just a tad too early to make it into the group photos, of which there are many on the flickr stream. Atom Moore, Beardalo President, also took quite a few fine individual shots.

Here is one of my favorites group shots (not the official one, but a nice one):



The original photo lives here in cajunjoel's photostream.

I know there's also a shot of John Roderick patting Jonathan Coulton's beard, but I couldn't find it in the 3500+ photos. So if someone knows where that is, or where the official photo is, please send a link in the comments.

What'd I miss? Tracy edition: Rubik's Cube Madness

I'm going to snag Maria's theme for a minute and talk about a thing I missed. Here's a thing I missed on Wednesday, as I was going back and forth between the Rock Band room and the game room, depending on whatever caught my fancy. I'm very sad that I didn't wander up to the Crow's Nest at some point and catch this as it happened.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you one of Angela's fantastic videos, in which Kristin Looney (of Looney Labs, maker of Fluxx) solves a Rubik's Cube in about a minute, as Mike Phirman, John Roderick, Peter Sagal and others look on.



In case Kristin's Rubik's Cube prowess isn't enough encouragement, John Roderick mixing up a Rubik's cube is one of the most delightful things I've seen all day.

What'd I miss? P2: This cruise is Joco Crazy

I never went to any of the Joco Karaoke shows, once because it corresponded with Famous Tracy's scrabble battle against John Hodgman, and once because we were getting the queen's consort, Nick, completely sloshed on sake. I've seen a good number of the videos of the karaoke, but my favorite was this one, as recorded by Sara Chicazul:



(The video lives here.)

EDIT: here are the official lyrics, which were posted in the video's notes, but somehow I missed that, like a dummy.

JOCO CRUISE CRAZY (reinterpreted "Tom Cruise Crazy" lyrics)
By Table 73

Our cruise is so in love with Coulton,
At least Wil Wheaton tells us so.
And while other cruisers dance to Michael Bolton,
That's not the way we choose to go.

A closetful of geeky shirts is proving a distraction,
It's a good thing we're not fanboys anymore.

REFRAIN (John Hodgman):
Our cruise is JoCo Crazy, just be glad it's not the crew.
If you had John Hodgman's troubles, you might be JoCo Crazy too.
We'll flash a big white shiny badge and buy expensive booze,
And we'll be the only ones on board who get to enjoy the cruise.

JoCo is always getting bolder, he'll never be no one again.
When Paul F. Tompkins gives him the cold shoulder,
He'll get a new comedian.

He knows some day he'll have to play to old retarded grandpas,
While someone younger wears the fancy pants.

REFRAIN (Mike Phirman):
Our cruise is JoCo Crazy, just be glad it's not the crew.
If you had Mike Phirman's troubles, you might be JoCo Crazy too.
We'll flash a big white shiny badge and buy expensive booze,
And we'll be the only ones on board who get to enjoy the cruise.

JoCo knows somewhere there's a place for him,
He's not just landbound anymore

Somewhere in some secluded cabin, Rees sharpens pencils artisanal
And if you use wi-fi you'll get a stabbin'-- we just won't go online at all.

We hundreds are glad we came, and JoCo knows we love him,
And wishes that we'd just leave him alone.

REFRAIN (Molly Lewis):
Our cruise is JoCo Crazy, just be glad it's not the crew.
If you had Molly Lewis's troubles, you might be JoCo Crazy too.
We'll flash a big white shiny badge and buy expensive booze,
And we'll be the only ones on board who get to enjoy the cruise....who get to enjoy the cruise...who get to enjoy the cruise.

What'd I miss? P1: The Puzzle

Note: This series of events I regretfully missed while on the cruise was too long for a single post, so I'm publishing them in staccato bursts daily until I run out.

Taylor mentioned there was going to be an in-ship puzzle on the cruise, which I really wanted to do. It was part of the reason I first talked to Jeff, our questgiver.

The real game started in the games room, and after the first day I always [begin snooty Boston accent] took my gaming on the Lido Deck in her majesty's royal cabana [end accent]. So we missed out on a lot of the game-room antics.

Here's a link to the Joco cruise puzzle. Seeing it now, I really regret not even trying out the game. However, on the upside, investigating the Joco puzzle clued me into Portland's active puzzling group that does a monthly treasure hunt. The prize? Beer:

http://www.puzzledpint.com/

So I'm opening up the question to you guys. Did any of you do the puzzle? Did anyone win?

On Gratitude and Airplanes

TL;DR version: Sea Monkeys, I owe all of you tremendous thanks … all of you collectively, and so many of you individually.

I took a bus from Atlanta to Miami for the cruise. It was a nice bus. On the way there, I wrote my silly essay about “Mr. Fancy Pants” and posted it, and I watched some “Leverage” and listened to the audiobook of “The Areas of My Expertise.” It didn’t feel at all like I’d been on a bus for 13 hours.

I expected the return trip to be the same.

The reason I spent 13 hours on a bus rather than an hour or so on a plane is because, since 1997, I’ve been stuck with a crippling phobia of flying. The kind that comes with nightmares and makes you say things like, "No, you can pay for somebody else to go to E3. I'd have to fly."

It started out as an ordinary fear, which I decided to get over my senior year of college. I got a grant to present a paper at a conference in Austin. Forty of us, as a group, took a flight from Asheville to Atlanta, then on to Texas, and the reverse coming home.

I couldn’t have asked for a better trip out, and when we landed in Austin I gloated about how handily I’d conquered my fear of flying. I was badass and insufferable.

On the trip home we had a problem. It’s a story I’ve told so many times that it’s started to sound like a rehearsed fiction.  On the ship, I didn’t want to get into it because whoever I was talking to was almost sure to be boarding a plane in a few days to go home.

Yes, there was turbulence, with free fall that broke things in the cabin. When the flight had smoothed out and my adrenaline plummeted, I fell asleep for a while, and the pilot’s voice woke me up. He was telling us that they thought the fluid coming out of the engine for the last 45 minutes was coolant from the generator. I learned later that, while I was napping, the co-pilot had left the cockpit and looked out one of the rear windows to try to diagnose the problem. In the air.

Add to that the pilot saying, “There’s no reason we shouldn’t make it to Atlanta.” Add that we were given priority clearance to land, entirely skipping the two-hour holding pattern the pilot warned us of. Add that nobody announced our approach, so for a moment, two hours before we expected to land, we all thought we were crashing. Add that, since we were all honors students, we were smart enough to realize that something else must have been going on to keep everyone from having time to tell us we were on approach.

Then, to all that, add that on the plane were 40 honors students from my alma mater, most of us seniors, and 10 or so highly favored professors. We were all imagining headlines like “Graduating Class Decimated in Fiery Crash.” (My alma mater is fairly small, and “decimated” would have been technically accurate.)

Yeah, once we got back to Asheville I never got on a plane again. For more than a decade. Until Tuesday.  

When I first heard about the cruise, I thought I might conquer my phobia and fly to Fort Lauderdale as a reward. I stalled and stalled and stalled until a friend told me about a fancy bus called Red Coach. In my mind, the return trip would be easier than the trip south. I’d be relaxed and happy from my vacation, and I’d read a book in the airport until time to go, and then I’d sleep overnight, since the bus was leaving a little before 7 p.m. and arriving at about 7:30 a.m.

What really happened is that when I got to Miami Airport to catch the Red Coach home, I was exhausted and heartbroken and missed you all terribly. I couldn’t stop thinking about everyone I hadn’t managed to say goodbye to before disembarking from the Eurodam. (Why did you go to bed so early? Why did I? How did we miss each other? Do I have your e-mail? Your Twitter name? Something?)

I’m always sad at the end of conventions and whatnot, but not like this. The only thing I wanted more than to still be on the Eurodam with this amazing community of people was to be at home in my own bed.

Before I’d even reached Orlando, where I’d be spending a 6-hour layover on the way home, I started to see tweets from people who were home. Or, worse, waiting for a connecting flight at Hartsfield-Jackson, where I’d have flown if I’d had the balls to fly. I still had about 15 hours of travel ahead of me.

All the Sea Monkeys, save a few who booked a hotel a night after the cruise (and Chicazul, whose journey home seemed interminable, and maybe Angela, who was flying over an entire ocean, and John Roderick, who was in a Mustang exorcising his wanderlust or something) would be sleeping in their own beds that night.

Not only would I not be sleeping in my own bed, but I would be sleeping on a bus. Overnight.

That’s when I came to a very important conclusion, roughly paraphrased as, “This is some bullshit.”

So I decided to fly, for real this time. And you all came out of the woodwork. Sara started a hashtag on Twitter that led to a playlist of songs for the airplane (beginning with John Roderick singing “Sky is Open”). Maria and Taylor made a video (a video? seriously? an entire video? First you made me cry and then you made me laugh, so much). I got well-wishes when it was time to go and congratulations when I landed. I am floored and flabbergasted and so, so grateful. 

This isn’t at all to disparage or diminish my Atlanta friends, who kept checking up on me, or my work colleagues, three of whom nearly made me cry in the airport with their thoughtful e-mails, or my family. But you all – you were the tipping point. You prompted me to fly and then you – so many of you that I still can't quite get over it – stuck with me in spite of my angst while I did it.

So thank you.

I’ll see you at PAX East. Which I’ll get to on an airplane.

The Roderick Effect

I will admit it. I only started following John Roderick on Twitter once he joined the lineup for the Joco cruise. I had thought about it before, particularly during a Paul and Storm "Following John Roderick is like" running joke-a-thon, but never actually committed.

Turns out, John Roderick is a cracker-jack tweeter. Within a few days he posted one of my all-time favorite tweets:

"I think America's problems really started with the advent of Personal Wipes. Now everybody thinks they're owed a personal wipe."

I read with delight everything he posted in his column in the Seattle Weekly. Then he posted a link to this video. Great, right? I bought Putting the Days to Bed, picked my favorite song, and decided I was ready to meet John Roderick.

So, there he was on the cruise--tall and fuzzy and clever and friendly. He helped me down as I left the hatch to take the group photo. I knew he knew about Stumptown from the video above, so we talked about Portland a bit. I liked him. A lot.

On the third night we decided to watch John Hodgman face off with Famous Tracy in Scrabble. Suddenly there was John Roderick, right behind me, talking about how sore a loser Hodgman is, so Tracy better not win.

(This photo originally posted on Flickr here by our friend Jeff, aka Theanderblast. He also posts one of my favorite photos from the cruise here.)

We chatted. I told Roderick I appreciated that he was a tall musician, particularly when everyone now seems to be going for that malnourished, 8-year-old man-child look. (We saw Spoon in the airport once, and this impression of them has always stuck with me. It didn't help that they were picked up by a soccer-mom minivan.) He talked with the couple behind me about his collection of vintage eye wear (180 pairs, good grief!). Then he and Kevin Murphy broke out the ukuleles and started singing. Paul Sabourin joined in for an all-out jam session.

(Photo originally posted here by Mirka23.)

I know I've alluded to this before, but what an experience! They started with White Christmas, because that was the only song John Roderick knew. Then they played it again, for the same reason. After that they opened up the floor for suggestions, and I made a few. A Horse with No Name, came to mind immediately because it has two cords (easy to learn, right?). Taylor trumped me by suggesting any Andrew WK song, because those seem to only have one note. They played neither, but Roderick did ask who suggested the America song. I'm not sure if this was to scold or praise me.

All this was happening while I stood between Kevin Murphy and his wife, Jane (that's her holding the wine glass in the pic above). Jane kept passing on my suggestions, because I tend to mumble. When I told her I was having a great time, she stopped them both and pointed me out. "This woman says she's having a wonderful time." Both players gave me warm smiles, which I return as long as I could without happily fainting.

(This great photo of me, Taylor, and the stars, lives here in konomike's photostream.)

By the time Roderick played his concert on Thursday night I had nothing but warm, fuzzy feelings about him. Then he started singing and damn near blew the speakers off the walls. I was thunderstruck. I have never heard anyone who could sing so clearly, powerfully and seemingly effortlessly. He also ad libs in the space between songs like a vaudevillian. You can see it in some of the videos below or in any of the youtube videos from the cruise (I recommend Cernoise's, of course).

My immediate favorite song when I bought Putting the Days to Bed was "Honest," not because of the song's plot, a simple cautionary tale about being a groupie, but because of the vocal note progression on the chorus.

Honest, it's alright to be a singer,
but don't you love a singer
whatever you do
whatever you do.

When Roderick played "Honest." I shouted out it was my favorite, and he made a joke appropriate for the song's subject matter ("the roadies came and picked me out from on the barricade"). I swooned, I won't deny it.



I was teased mercilessly the next day. "Oh, Maria, there's John Roderick. You going to be able to concentrate on the game?" "I noticed you and John Roderick went to the bathroom at the same time. What were you up to?"

But then the final concert came, and John Roderick sang "The Commander Thinks Aloud."



After that powerful performance, the teasing didn't stop, but it mellowed.

Friend and fellow jococruisecrazy-fan poster Famous Tracy wrote a poem about the experience of watching the song on Geektastic Pentameter. It's as touching as the song itself. Go read it here.

Want a print inspired by "The Commander Thinks Aloud"? Check out this sublime piece by jadegordon. You can buy it here.



Commander by ~JadeGordon on deviantART

For now.

I'm starting to feel like if I don't start committing some of the other awesome things that happened to writing that I run the risk of losing them, so here we go in a format that's not even going to pretend to be narrative.  This is not comprehensive, and I'll likely be back with more once I can form coherent thoughts.

Being in Famous Tracy's entourage
Fully expecting a rumble from Hodgman and his ilk during the Scrabble Royale, Tracy's entourage posse'd up in the lounge.  Luckily (for them!) his crew was reasonably well-mannered, and fisticuffs were avoided.  In truth, this ended up being one of the more surreal moments of the week.  "The Queen requires music," proclaimed the Hodgman, and off scampered Kevin Murphy and John Roderick to do his (my?) bidding.  As the game unfolded the duo became a trio, and cocktails were fetched.  At some point I realized that the crowd surrounding the game was 3 or 4 deep, with many of the entertainers observing from the fringes.  I expect a far better accounting of this epic challenge from Tracy's perspective (*nudge*), but as a hanger-on it was wonderfully weird.

The farewell party
At the end of the week, emotionally exhausted, I crashed at a table and had a really wonderful (but far too brief) conversation with Kim & Shawn.  I'm probably not the first person to say that Shawn is going to run the universe some day -- ridiculously smart, quick, and perceptive beyond the capacity of many her senior.  I usually approach younglings with trepidation, but I enjoyed each encounter, whether discussing sudoku strategies, people-watching, or planning a wedding .  Kim is divine, frank, hysterical, and all around good people (and gorgeous!).  Add in Dick, Diane, and Paul, and its inconceivable that one family should possess so much awesomeness.  Not getting to really talk to Rick is one of my very few regrets from the cruise, as I feel like I shortchanged myself on another component of the awesome.

Random snippets of conversation overheard
To me it felt like home, but I can only imagine what the other passengers thought when eavesdropping.


Cabanarama
If you'd guessed that the number of people we could fit into a cabana was 8, you'd be correct.  Depending on the day and time there was anywhere from one to eight crashed out poolside.  It was the perfect venue for me to take early morning conference calls without waking Nick, and to just slide into the day gently with some coffee.   There were days that I'd wander off and come back to find my legendarily awkward guy holding court with passersby or friends.  The drinking of the crown & scepter (and dipping into Schatzer's bottle of rum), accompanied by games, rum cake, and rum fudge (there's a theme here) was a simple and wonderful end to to the trip, in the company of the folks who put up with me all week.

Sound check
After standing in line for the second concert and having someone come fetch me with "they've been looking for you in there," I started coming to sound check.  At first it was in order to not have to be hunted down, and I learned that if I scooted into the theater on the balcony level about 20 mins before the show I could circumvent some of the bowing.   You were all such fabulous sports about respecting the crown that I sometimes felt guilty about my presence requiring people to stop their conversations or relinquish their comfy positions, so I'll admit to actively avoiding the show line.


But what started as a shirking of royal responsibility really ended up being one of the privileges of power that I most enjoyed.  I've always suspected that the camaraderie on stage between the various performers is real, and I got to see it firsthand when they weren't in a position of having to be 'on'.   While producers were valiantly trying to herd cats, performers were having fun and honestly enjoying each others company.   I had the esteemed position of bouncer in the Emperor's box a few nights which likely amused me far more than it amused the Emperor.   I met many of the performers during sound check who were terribly sporting, if not confused, about the lady in the booze hat.

A few of many necessary mentions
 To Peter Sagal, who Nick believes I scared the bejesus out of by gushing:  Sorry if I creeped you out -- I'll keep my enthusiasm a little more in check next time.

To Emperor Hodgman:  You, sir, are a gentleman and a class act.

To Paulofpaulandstorm:  Once more, for the public record...dude, wow.

To Molly23:  You never let on that there was anything strange about a commoner in a straw hat laden with rum hanging around.   You have a gift for putting people at ease when they're in your orbit.

Dammit Liz!:  You are a force with which to be reckoned, and watching you at your craft was a treat.  Congrats on the new gig, and we'll see you at c2e2.

To JoCo:  There is not enough gratitude for your brave leap into geek cruisery. 

To the rest of the entertainers who bowed, curtsied, and moved along before I had the opportunity to actually introduce myself:  Hi, I'm Aileen, and I'm a fan.

To the rest of the fans:  Geeks come in a huge array of sizes, shapes, colors, genders, and subcultures.  One of the things I have always appreciated most about geek culture is our natural tendency to be inclusive.  We understand what its like to be picked upon, singled out, and excluded, and we've collectively channeled that into being an accepting society.  We ask questions and encourage discussion to better understand other people's perspectives, rather than just rejecting them outright.  We understand that liking everyone is not mandatory, but being respectful is.  Be an example to the newer/younger geeks who are still confused about their place in the world -- let them know that its okay to be different, and encourage them to embrace & promote the same acceptance that veteran geeks have come to enjoy.  You're all brilliant in your own unique ways -- use that power for good. 


Never least
Nick:  You are so often the silent partner in our relationship, and I hope that no one confuses your quiet calm for lack of thought or opinion.   You handled the week, and me, with a level of grace and patience that made it seem like it was all easy for you.  There is no person with whom I would rather spend any week of my life, good or bad, and I'm so tickled that you feel the same way.  I am a lucky, lucky girl.

In closing...for now
I know my reign officially ended at around 9:00am on January 8th, and now that I think I've recorded many of my thoughts, I'm hanging up my empty crown with a wistful glance to the empty miniature rum bottle wired to my badge, which hangs in my office to my right.   I'll see you all next year, yes?

The Monarch is dead, long live the Monarch.
 

...in which I take the red pill and see how deep the rabbit hole goes.

(I've been looking at a virtual blank page for this blog entry for way too long, trying to figure out where it begins, where it ends, and how to turn a blur into words.  Rather than continue to psych myself out of it, I'm just going to mentally regurgitate, and hope it makes sense.  I thank you in advance for your patience, dear reader.)

 We quickly hopped back to our shoebox to change into formal wear before the show, and found ourselves tight on time.  A look at the clock showed that we either had to leave right then to get in line, or risk finding ourselves out of panty-throwing range -- and who really wants to get all dressed up and then not be able to throw some underwear at people on a stage?  So I decided to skip makeup to get us out the door 10 minutes faster.  I mean, really -- why would anyone be looking at me anyway?  (HA!  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!)

Chronologically displaced side note:  the night before, I think as we were falling asleep, I'd reminded Nick of the Monarch of the Seas competition, having been reminded by some sort of announcement at the sailaway party.  I was concerned about how he might react if by some remarkable chance it ended up being him.  Our conversation went something like this:

A:  In the exceptionally unlikely event that your name is called tomorrow, you need to take a deep breath, suck it up,and not freak out.


N:  What the fuck -- can't I just renounce the title?

A:   Nope.  Besides, its not going to happen -- the odds are what?  250-1 against you.  Hell, 125-1 against either of us.  (HA!  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!)

N:   What if your name is called?

A:  HA!  HAHAHAHAHAHA!

So we zoom out of the shoebox and jump in line outside the theater -- the doors open a few minutes later, and we grab seats stage left (is stage port actually just starboard?), 5 or 6 rows back.  At this point, I am concerned once again about panty-throwing range, and the ability of my man to frisbee a pair of squirrel underpants on a cardboard squirrel 50 feet without winging someone in front of us in the back of head, or taking Stormofpaulandstorm out at the knees.  Ah here are the morning announcements, cool.

Gaming room hours, got it - reminder of the formal tonight, awesome - new dining room procedures, noted -  Monarch of the Seas is named, applause...why is Nick staring at me?   Why is Nick poking me in the side?  What the hell did Paulofpaulandstorm just say?  (mental instant replay engaged -- its not just for football refereeing anymore!)

Oh shit.

Ok, breathe.

Ok, now stand up and wave, then sit back down and maybe they'll sense your minor panic and let you stay here.

Yeah...that's not going to work.  Let me try to get on stage without falling, in the words of Helen Mirren, ass over tit.

Wait!  This will put me in prime underpants position, let me grab them from Nick and then resume my non-regal stumble to the stage.

The concert itself has been documented aplenty across the interwebs -- there's not much I can add to that awesome experience, other than my own bewilderment at my sudden change of location.  I think my wish to someday be front row for a Paul and Storm show has officially been overfulfilled -- really, you haven't lived til you've experienced the magic from a 30 degree angle behind.  (upon rereading this was unintentionally filthy, and as such it must stay)    Ten-Finger Johnny -- yes please!  Wil, thank you for being so captivating as to allow me to forget my own awkwardness at being perched upon the throne.  Thank you to the folks front row stage right who put my precious squirrel underpants back on the stage when I overthrew my target.  Thank you, all of you, for not screaming at me to speed it up when I was in my own headspace and meandering out of the theater, not fully realizing I was keeping the whole load of you from going to dinner.

I left the theater and ducked into the empty piano bar, where Nick immediately found me.  Somehow Maria and Taylor found us shortly after that.   Now, on Sunday night when the assigned seating was in effect, Nick and I found ourselves at a 4-top without tablemates. We were a little disappointed and felt highly conspicuous -- like we were somehow either antisocial, or unworthy of table mates.  The thought of going back to our lonely table in my new regalia was only going to intensify my concern that people would think we were unable to play nicely with others or just plain snobby.  "Pleasepleaseplease,"  I begged the Fishers, "can we eat with you guys tonight?  I just want to have a normal dinner with folks who aren't trying to crawl up my ass, and who will treat me just like anyone else."

And lo, the Queen's Guard of Portland, Decatur, and Ann Arbor was born.  Maria, Taylor, Mindy, Schatzer, Annie, Chris, Jeff, and Famous Tracy -- you guys took us in, let us be goofy, inappropriate, and vulgar, warded off some of the akwardness, and shared your table, your wine, and your warmth every night.   We could not have lucked into a greater group of friends, and so many of the moments that absolutely made the week were in your company. 

Yippie-ki-yay, motherfuckers.