Regis on Saturday was the last tournament of the year. And a mighty large one, with about 120 competitors in three divisions (not to mention the large Policy and Congress divisions). The freshman LDers are forced to debate in the cafeteria; I stuck my nose in down there for a minute, and regretted that Dante hadn't lived long enough to experience this particular circle of the Inferno. But somehow people managed to sort things out and make them happen. McHush even managed somehow to train a couple of our new parents. Amazing intestinal fortitude, if you ask me.
Things were jumping in the tab room. Aside from magically handling a series of disappearances (the usual rogue vomiter that every tournament seems to engender, some schmegeggie who never told his coach he was hitting the road and was never heard from again, the judge whose engine was firing on negative burners and had to have the ballots pulled directly out of her small brain—why do we bother with opening judge instructions, anyhow, when the ones most in need of listening are most likely plugged into Moby outtakes or whatever it is that's destroying the youth of America these days), we briefly went over Brother John's good response to my NYSFL letter, and talked about next year's calendar. As for the former, I'll save that for a few days until I get my response organized, but I was heartened to see that he was taking me seriously. As for the latter, I think we really managed to sort things out well. I did make the announcement that I was probably moving Bump to the NFA weekend (although I'm still waiting to get approval from the school). Then we sorted this, that and the other, I think in a good way. I'm sending out a message to the region's guiding lights shortly, and I'll also post it here, in case I miss anybody. In a word, 2006-7 is ready for primetime.
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