What they won't tell you on VBD

So, sez you, how was Bump?

The thing I was worried about most was getting started, given that we weren’t allowed to let people in until 2:30. This certainly meant there was gridlock at the registration table, but the call-in process, where everyone telephoned in any changes, meant that we had schematics hanging on the walls by 3:30, and all rounds in full swing by 4:00, and best of all, everyone housed and out by 10:30. So, we can do it, with that time restriction. Also, everyone did fit into the cafeteria for the opening ceremony, which was another fear I had. I would prefer to work otherwise, but I now know I can work within these limits. I will add a new wrinkle next year, though, which is Express Check-in. I will send out pdfs on Sunday after registration closes to every school with their information. If you have no changes from that pdf, and you have a check in hand for that amount, you just get your name checked off the master list from the Express Check-in person, and you’re done. We’ll send someone to you when things settle down to pick up your check and provide you with a clean receipt, while you get to avoid the dreaded Table of Slackers, Miscreants, and Coaches Who Haven’t Digested Their Machiavelli and Let Their Kids Be the Princes.

As for the rounds themselves, the next big issue was fitting in the required 6 LD prelims. Thanks to a combination of starting at 7:30 on Saturday, which mostly happened, and single-flighted doubles, and JV’s reluctance to wait any more than two seconds after schematics are posted before herding people into their rooms, at gunpoint if necessary, we managed to have the final round in the can by around 9:00 Saturday night. Outstanding! It’s great that JV is now a regular in tab rooms: he provides a much needed permanent threat of nuclear explosion that people like me only get worked into once or twice a day. We may have to install blood-pressure-testing equipment in tab in the future, just in case, but until the inevitable aneurysm, we’re doing just fine. My problem is that I do yell at everybody once or twice during the tournament just to put the fear of God into them, and it works, but then I have to immediately storm into the tab room where I break up in inordinate giggles at the whole thought of it. It’s not easy being tough.

The other divisions went off well, too. PF judges did seem to disappear the moment their names were inked onto a skem, and there was the usual inordinate amount of coaching of the Polician novices in their 0-3 rounds, and at one point it looked like we’d have varsity finals judged by the pizza guy, but everything did ultimately sort itself out. The high school does labor under the burden of spread, unlike the grammar school, where you can see everyone at almost every moment. The complexity of the former building does slow things down, but their smaller number of rounds means that they all ended up with us about when they should.

There were the inevitable Great Moments of Bump. The Porn King explaining at great length (and with great error on both counts) that Moby Dick sucks and that I was the writer of Nostrum; O’C’s camera battery running down—a true, benevolent Act of God—enough that I didn’t have to have a picture of me, him and The Middle-Aged Woman’s Guide to Morality, which was this year’s O’C Award, which is awarded annually to O’C for no discernible reason; the dispensing of the Double-octo awards by the crack heads of the LD team, who managed to forget to actually give them the award and only gave out the crappy prize; the message to Ewok when the LD strike sheets appeared on the policy table; the sinking of Battleship; the beautiful weather as compared to last year’s blizzard, for which I will be eternally grateful to the NFA coaches; NoShow demonstrating a running style that will become paradigmatic among the Sailors (and will earn him Wrangler stripes next year); the unexpected breakup, as in, who knew I’d actually be right?; the migration of the judges who don’t speak English from LD to Pffft—thank goodness for Sailor parents filling in le gap, or el gappo, or die gappe, or whatever you would call it in the languages spoken by the Pfffterfolk; and most of all, the triumphant return of the alums in years ranging from Marc to Kt to Noah to Wedro and Jared to CLG to Burgers to Ben and Becker to Emcee and Sam. Whew! What a great group! The only problem was finding a decent restaurant for the celebration afterwards, since everything in Montrose closes at about sundown. We ended up at an Irish bar; we could have done worse.

Anyhow, it’s all over now, and aside from a few odds and ends, I don’t have to think about it again until next August. Ta-ta, Bump. On to other people’s tournaments! Huzzah!