We have put Bigle X 2015 to bed. Another one bites the dust.
Aside from some flurries Sunday night, it’s the first Bigle
I can remember that didn’t have some sort of meteorological hell breaking out
at some point. Let’s face it: if your tournament is the middle of January, and
your high school is north of the Arctic Circle, you can’t be terribly surprised
by the odd blizzard. Last year, Lexington had enough snow already to supply all
of [fill in your own metaphor here for someone who might want a lot of snow;
I’m still too tum pluckered out by Bigle X to attempt it myself]. Our drive
home that year—I was still herding Sailors—was an extended jag down Rt 95 where, between
Massachusetts and New York, you are hard-pressed to find even the remotest
excuse for a restaurant. Talk about the middle of nowhere! When we finally
pulled into a rest stop, the Plebes had to explain to me how to order what is
considered food at a Subway. I forget what they told me, but fortunately I am
unlikely ever to attempt to repeat the process.
As Kaz managed to topple off some slippery national
monument in Istanbul/Constantinople/Byzantium over the Christmas vacation, she was flaunting a cast on her wrist to hold in all the titanium bolts they
had planted there, not to mention walking with the aid of a cane she apparently
stole from her local WrongAid Pharmacy of Lost Prostheses, Leechware and
Secondhand Mobility Devices. She can’t drive, so I chauffeured her around a
bit, although I shamefully admit I demurred from picking her up at 6:45 on
Saturday when round 1 was at 9:00. There are lines that must be drawn! Mostly
she seemed to get around okay, and she was able to wiggle her fingers with the
best of them, so the healing process seems to be happening. From the sounds of
it, her mishap didn’t stop her at the time from exploring all of Istanbul/Constantinople/Byzantium
when she was there. Debate coaches are made of stern stuff!
LD was back in our digs at the middle school, although,
happily, tab was in a better room than last year. We had a microwave, decent tables,
and tropical fish (for display, not for meals, although they were swimming
right next to the microwave). I’ve become a big fan of the tab room microwave;
if you’ve ever eaten debate ziti, and I know you have, you know that it never
achieves a temperature higher than fifty degrees at best, and that’s when it’s
hot from the ovens, which are on the other side of town on the sketchy side of
the tracks where half the time the ziti truck gets held up before it gets
halfway down the block. So a tab microwave, to heat up whatever they’re
serving, is a must. We had great meals offsite both nights, so I’m not complaining. Far
from it. I could live on debate food, if I had to. But that’s why God let me buy
a car, so I wouldn’t have to. Thank you, God. Still, the microwave is nice for
heating up your soup you’ve brought back, at great threat to life and limb,
from the sketchy side of the tracks.
It was me and JV and the Paginator and Bro John, the latter
two doing novice. They were finished a couple of months before we were, the
scum. Of course, we had more rounds, plus MJP, and the tropical fish kept
giving us the evil eye, so no wonder they were so efficient. They almost had a
chance for a closeout in finals; they kept staring at the screen seeing the first two
split ballots, repeatedly hitting the reload button, hoping for the right
decision. I’ve never seen two people so disappointed over a debate ballot. They
now had to stay maybe till noon. Feh.
JV hit the road when his teams were eventually eliminated. I held out until Semis were paired in our division. Since
there were only going to be three hired judges in the building by the time
finals rolled around, I reluctantly decided that my incredible pairing skills
would not be required for finding, uh, three judges for the round. As I said,
there were some flurries for a while when I hit that road, but once I hit
Connecticut, it was clear sailing, listening to Disney songs on random play.
I felt like a princess all the way home.
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