In which we turn our eyes to Texas

Practically everybody I’m connected to on Facebook is in Dallas. Over the weekend there was a NY Times crossword puzzle clue, "80s TV soap opera." Starting with D. 

The answer was Dynasty. Oh, well.

NatNats is apparently the biggest ever, if for no other reason than they seem to be adding or at least hosting events with which I am unfamiliar, like this whole World Debating thing, or whatever it’s called. Meanwhile Jonathan P was going on in righteous anger about some new speaking events being added, and there was various discussion on Fb about that. Having fought tooth and nail for years with the organization in the old Red Light District days because we didn’t have enough schools to warrant entries, a battle Catholic Charlie and JV carried on and apparently marginally won because they’re nicer people than I am (well, maybe CC is nicer than I am, maybe even nicer enough to outweigh JV, who I am quite sure isn’t) or something like that, and also having never actually gone to a NatNats, I am hardly the person to comment on the thing in general. All I’ll say is that any tournament that takes a week of one’s life had better be a very good tournament. My understanding is that, as a general rule, NatNats actually is a very good tournament, although it’s usually located in some godforsaken wilderness and even its heartiest fans don’t pretend that it isn’t endless.

One of the great joys of not traveling to distant tournaments is watching everyone on Facebook traveling to distant tournaments. Magellan was more sanguine about his chances than these people. It is a fact universally acknowledged that [fill in the blank] Airline is run by demons bent on circumventing your travel plans. They will always bump you from your flight, and never tell you about it until it’s too late and your luggage has gone on to Siberia via dog sled. The basic process is, announce your arrival at your departure airport, loaded for bear at the upcoming tournament, then an hour later in the comments start delineating how the demons are working their black magic, which draws further comments from other lost souls who have had the same thing happen to them, or else people simply click on the schadenfreude button. Then, when they finally arrive three days later, battered and bruised and the [fill in the blank] hotel chain has, as always, lost their reservations and when you say you’ll take the presidential suite because you smugly assume it is available, you are told that the Obamas are using it tonight and then you are offered cardboard refrigerator boxes as your team’s accommodations for the evening, if you can find the nearest bridge to sleep under. And, oh yeah, it’s 110 in the shade, there’s a torrential downpour, a blizzard warning, a tidal wave, a volcano alert, and orcs have been spotted rising up from the underground.

Have fun in Dallas, everyone.