What I did on my summer holidays.
Oct. 29th, 2003 03:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
davywavyBeing the latest instalment of the ongoing adventures of David in the New World.
For those of you not interested in Camstuff, suffice to say that I went to the USofA, had a fantastic time doing somehting fairly inexplicable, and came home again. For those of you interested, read on:
Wednesday.
And so it's off to the Americas. As![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nebuchanezzer can't make it for drinks, I left on Wednesday rather than Tuesday with, I have to admit, a degree of trepidation; last years trip sucked, and with so many of the people I know not going to be there (wendylady, grigori, tzel, darkzen, riksowden, tyadda to name but few), just how good is this going to be? Then I have the happy joy of meeting Cammies at the airport (dannyuk and Anna) leaving me thinking "Gods, not an 8 hour flight being told about someones character" and the whole thing looks like an arror.
As I scamper merrily through customs I'm pulled up and searched for the first time this trip before being allowed onto my aeroplane, decanted down the runway, and we're off.
The flight is also uninspiring. American Airways really are barrel scraping, and it's BA and Virgin for me from here on in. Most of the in-flight entertainment is made up of some American sitcom called somehting like Mocking the afflicted or Lowest Common Denominator (actually, if you're interested, it was Everybody loves Raymond, a more innaccurate title I have difficulty imagining) and so I spend 8 hours staring listlessly out of the window or idly forcing my way through Yukio Mishimas' worst book.
The earth from the sky is usually uncommonly beautiful; Greenland from above is breathtaking with mountains jutting from endless snow and ice. However, flying into the US Southwards from the Great Lakes takes one over the farm belt; an area of the planet which has seen the most ruthless subjugation of nature by technology. The entire landscape, as far as the eye can see, comprises of perfectly rectangular fields and rivers with right angles in them. After the random, organic mishmash of England and the stark purity of Greenland, Wisconsin leaves me feeling a blank emptiness in my soul - if you want to see the future, fly southeast from Chicago for an hour, and understand that one day it is likely that all the earth shall look like this. If that doesn' t make you an advocate of population control, nothing will.
Landing in St Louis, customs cheerfully take my passport off me and point into the back room (it just gets better, doesn't it) before making me remove various nonessential items of clothing to get through the metal detector.
Finally the three of us arrive at the hotel, me tired, irritable, and grubby but determined not to sleep so soon in order to break potential jetlag. Instead I head to the store withkarohemd, Wolf, and a charming lady whose name exited my head as promptly as it was introduced.
Finally, after meeting more people (includingsollunastella and hobbsthepenguin whom I spend the rest of the weekend coaching in a British accent) I stagger to bed and collapse, still unsure of whether I've made a good call coming.
Thursday
I wake at 5am. Bloody jetlag. Lying awake in a darkened room I realise that there's no more sleep for me so I turn on the TV to be greeted by the opening titles of Krull Krull! At 5am! Suddenly the weekend is looking up. I haven't seen this film in the better part of 20 years, and I'm pleasantly surprised by the quality of the SFX, which hold up remarkably well before the ravages of time. Coupled with a young Robbie Coltrane and Lian Neeson in supporting roles, and Tucker Jenks of Grange Hill as the happy go lucky kid I sepnd a happy hour and a half before turning over to find Bill & Teds Excellent Adventure on the other side.
I look at the remote. Surely this is too good to be true?
Finally I stagger to breakfast at about 9:30, my geek urges fully satiated.
Thursday isn't a doing much day. I attend the opening meeting, wherecharlesb announces the fine competition that WW are hosting (more details later), so after the meeting I neatly flying tackle him and after slamming his head in a door no more than half a dozen times I persuade him that he really wants to give the UK a slot as well. So is negotaition in the upper reaches of the Cam carried out.
After this, I meet up withnikkita442 and play airhockey with her and her kid, and soon the day has whizzed by most amicably and it's time in.
Nothing much to say about the Thursday game; it's an IC casino, I get monstrously cheesed but in a semi-good way ("He used LOVE on me! Without even buying me a drink first! I feel so used!"), and I make $50,000 pretend dollars on the night, so all is good. Afterwards I go to the Canadian room party where I meet The Most Patronising Woman In The Worldtm (Patronising? That's MY job), and so I go to bed, instead.
Friday
Friday AM is off to see St Louis withdannyuk, sollunastella, Gordon, and some American who we meet in the street, think looks nice, and adopt. First call is the "Vertiginious Drop of Death", also known as the Gateway Arch, which I'm dragged to the top of and spend the entire trip gripping handrails, the wall, and likely looking womenfolk in an attempt to fight off vertigo. After that, it's off to a costume shop to buy me Priate gear and then luncheon at a fairly nice bar & food joint that has an interesting Cajun/European/Depression-era US mishmash of themes. Finally returning to the hotel in time for a good solid round of Cam-related bitching before it's off to get changed for the game.
First stop IC is the council of Princes. Okay, I'm not a prince, but I didn't let that stop me andbringeroflight's face when he walked in as Romulus and saw me in there was a picture. The actual meeting was pointless & futile (as these things tend to be - the only reason I went was because I wasn't supposed to be there), but I made a few good contacts afterwards as the competant people met up and formed an inpromptu alliance to sort out the things the CoP just talked about.
The evening rounded off with eh Ventrue Clan Meeting, which was, if anything, even more futile than the CoP. I kept my prevoiusly learned lessons to heart ("Never stay in a clan meeting after midnight when there's parties to go to") and vanished early, leaving everyone else there to yawn and gripe at how dull the whole thing was. The Ventrue are such a clan of Daily Mail readers:
(The scene: Veddharta is sitting over breakfast, chatting to Toreador
V: Have you seen the paper, dear? These Sabbat. Something must be done
T: Yes dear.
V: And these Anarchs. Shocking. Somehting must be done.
T: Yes dear.
V: Harumph. I've been saying it for years, someone must do something.
T: Yes dear
V: Diablerists, I see. Harumph. Something must be done.
Continue ad infinitum, throughout the bloodline)
The rest of the evening was spend getting pleasantly plastered watching Pirates of the Carribean on call-up TV withkarohemd, nikkita442, and several others who happened by and thought the idea sounded good.
And so to bed.
Saturday.
Pirate Day.
Two things define my memory of Saturday, and it is of these I shall speak.
Changeling.
I love Changeling.
They're never going to let me near an NPC again as long as I live.
The scene: There are 3 rooms: 1, the main game room, 2, another IC casino, and 3, a pirate bar down at the docks. I've been given a pirate NPC as local colour - my brief is to chat about wenchs and doubloons to any passing player characters. Sadly, my pleasure in this is set aback by a pair of highly gobby PCs who insist that only they are doing the pirate thing properly. As a result I decide to take a slightly more active role.
An hour and a half later, I've raised a crew, looted a ship, stolen a boat and staged a daring raid on the main game, and I've had atonishing fun in the process. I can't remember the last time I've had such a dose of concentrated enjoyment and adrenaline as I just let loose in game for the first time in ages. It's fun, it's funny, every one of my PC crew goes home with resources 2 or 3 as a result of the booty we've stolen, and it sets me up beautifully for the evening.
Camanarch.
The evening is spent failing to recognise thathobbsthepenguin is not actually Midnyte, and so we head to the council of clans, where I'm turned away (just because I'm not a clanhead) and then the Elders Salon, where I'm turned away (Just because I'm not an elder - they're so picky!), and so we end up in the Toreador salon. The description of the room itself should have set alarm bells ringing. All my emotional states are heightened, I'm told, and I don't really want to leave. that, plus the fact it's the MST running the room should have warned me. As the evening progresses it become clear that the women in the red dress is a power here - a major power. As she faces down the Nos Justicar and then kills a FoS with a touch, it becomes clear. That woman at the end of the room is Arikel, ladies and gentlemen. The Toreador Antediluvian. Right here, right now - and now we can't leave. She's putting her clan through the mill, and harshing left right and centre.
As the game works up to something, the Kindred of the East appear and do something cheesy, and kill her. I don't know what happened, I missed it, but I know an opportunity when I see one. As the Toreador all recoil in pain and distress (as the MST has told them to do), I push forwards shouting "Oh God! No! No! Let me through!", and find myself withkwei_cee and the Toreador clanhead guarding the crumbling body from the rest of the clan. As the three of us carefully gather up the ashes of the Antediluvian I take a handful under the guise of helping and then I leave. Fast. Before onyone asks difficult questions like "Who are you?"
And so it is that I leave the ICC with a handful of Antediluvian dust, and kids, I'm off to wake Set :)
Sunday.
After Saturday it's anticlimatic. Make my farewells, attend closing ceremony, grab Torley & Dave Keyes awards, leave.
Not searched at airport. Perhaps they've got bored of the sight of my arsehole.
Flight home - A word to the wise - Johnny English is Bollocks, and not worth the investment of time wacthing it, even though I was on an aeroplane with nothing to do.
However, one final note of joy. Checking my hotel bill, I notice that I wasn't charged for the in-room wanking channel. You know, that really was the icing on the cake.
For those of you not interested in Camstuff, suffice to say that I went to the USofA, had a fantastic time doing somehting fairly inexplicable, and came home again. For those of you interested, read on:
Wednesday.
And so it's off to the Americas. As
nebuchanezzer can't make it for drinks, I left on Wednesday rather than Tuesday with, I have to admit, a degree of trepidation; last years trip sucked, and with so many of the people I know not going to be there (wendylady, grigori, tzel, darkzen, riksowden, tyadda to name but few), just how good is this going to be? Then I have the happy joy of meeting Cammies at the airport (dannyuk and Anna) leaving me thinking "Gods, not an 8 hour flight being told about someones character" and the whole thing looks like an arror. As I scamper merrily through customs I'm pulled up and searched for the first time this trip before being allowed onto my aeroplane, decanted down the runway, and we're off.
The flight is also uninspiring. American Airways really are barrel scraping, and it's BA and Virgin for me from here on in. Most of the in-flight entertainment is made up of some American sitcom called somehting like Mocking the afflicted or Lowest Common Denominator (actually, if you're interested, it was Everybody loves Raymond, a more innaccurate title I have difficulty imagining) and so I spend 8 hours staring listlessly out of the window or idly forcing my way through Yukio Mishimas' worst book.
The earth from the sky is usually uncommonly beautiful; Greenland from above is breathtaking with mountains jutting from endless snow and ice. However, flying into the US Southwards from the Great Lakes takes one over the farm belt; an area of the planet which has seen the most ruthless subjugation of nature by technology. The entire landscape, as far as the eye can see, comprises of perfectly rectangular fields and rivers with right angles in them. After the random, organic mishmash of England and the stark purity of Greenland, Wisconsin leaves me feeling a blank emptiness in my soul - if you want to see the future, fly southeast from Chicago for an hour, and understand that one day it is likely that all the earth shall look like this. If that doesn' t make you an advocate of population control, nothing will.
Landing in St Louis, customs cheerfully take my passport off me and point into the back room (it just gets better, doesn't it) before making me remove various nonessential items of clothing to get through the metal detector.
Finally the three of us arrive at the hotel, me tired, irritable, and grubby but determined not to sleep so soon in order to break potential jetlag. Instead I head to the store with
karohemd, Wolf, and a charming lady whose name exited my head as promptly as it was introduced.Finally, after meeting more people (including
sollunastella and hobbsthepenguin whom I spend the rest of the weekend coaching in a British accent) I stagger to bed and collapse, still unsure of whether I've made a good call coming.Thursday
I wake at 5am. Bloody jetlag. Lying awake in a darkened room I realise that there's no more sleep for me so I turn on the TV to be greeted by the opening titles of Krull Krull! At 5am! Suddenly the weekend is looking up. I haven't seen this film in the better part of 20 years, and I'm pleasantly surprised by the quality of the SFX, which hold up remarkably well before the ravages of time. Coupled with a young Robbie Coltrane and Lian Neeson in supporting roles, and Tucker Jenks of Grange Hill as the happy go lucky kid I sepnd a happy hour and a half before turning over to find Bill & Teds Excellent Adventure on the other side.
I look at the remote. Surely this is too good to be true?
Finally I stagger to breakfast at about 9:30, my geek urges fully satiated.
Thursday isn't a doing much day. I attend the opening meeting, where
charlesb announces the fine competition that WW are hosting (more details later), so after the meeting I neatly flying tackle him and after slamming his head in a door no more than half a dozen times I persuade him that he really wants to give the UK a slot as well. So is negotaition in the upper reaches of the Cam carried out.After this, I meet up with
nikkita442 and play airhockey with her and her kid, and soon the day has whizzed by most amicably and it's time in.Nothing much to say about the Thursday game; it's an IC casino, I get monstrously cheesed but in a semi-good way ("He used LOVE on me! Without even buying me a drink first! I feel so used!"), and I make $50,000 pretend dollars on the night, so all is good. Afterwards I go to the Canadian room party where I meet The Most Patronising Woman In The Worldtm (Patronising? That's MY job), and so I go to bed, instead.
Friday
Friday AM is off to see St Louis with
dannyuk, sollunastella, Gordon, and some American who we meet in the street, think looks nice, and adopt. First call is the "Vertiginious Drop of Death", also known as the Gateway Arch, which I'm dragged to the top of and spend the entire trip gripping handrails, the wall, and likely looking womenfolk in an attempt to fight off vertigo. After that, it's off to a costume shop to buy me Priate gear and then luncheon at a fairly nice bar & food joint that has an interesting Cajun/European/Depression-era US mishmash of themes. Finally returning to the hotel in time for a good solid round of Cam-related bitching before it's off to get changed for the game.First stop IC is the council of Princes. Okay, I'm not a prince, but I didn't let that stop me and
bringeroflight's face when he walked in as Romulus and saw me in there was a picture. The actual meeting was pointless & futile (as these things tend to be - the only reason I went was because I wasn't supposed to be there), but I made a few good contacts afterwards as the competant people met up and formed an inpromptu alliance to sort out the things the CoP just talked about.The evening rounded off with eh Ventrue Clan Meeting, which was, if anything, even more futile than the CoP. I kept my prevoiusly learned lessons to heart ("Never stay in a clan meeting after midnight when there's parties to go to") and vanished early, leaving everyone else there to yawn and gripe at how dull the whole thing was. The Ventrue are such a clan of Daily Mail readers:
(The scene: Veddharta is sitting over breakfast, chatting to Toreador
V: Have you seen the paper, dear? These Sabbat. Something must be done
T: Yes dear.
V: And these Anarchs. Shocking. Somehting must be done.
T: Yes dear.
V: Harumph. I've been saying it for years, someone must do something.
T: Yes dear
V: Diablerists, I see. Harumph. Something must be done.
Continue ad infinitum, throughout the bloodline)
The rest of the evening was spend getting pleasantly plastered watching Pirates of the Carribean on call-up TV with
karohemd, nikkita442, and several others who happened by and thought the idea sounded good.And so to bed.
Saturday.
Pirate Day.
Two things define my memory of Saturday, and it is of these I shall speak.
Changeling.
I love Changeling.
They're never going to let me near an NPC again as long as I live.
The scene: There are 3 rooms: 1, the main game room, 2, another IC casino, and 3, a pirate bar down at the docks. I've been given a pirate NPC as local colour - my brief is to chat about wenchs and doubloons to any passing player characters. Sadly, my pleasure in this is set aback by a pair of highly gobby PCs who insist that only they are doing the pirate thing properly. As a result I decide to take a slightly more active role.
An hour and a half later, I've raised a crew, looted a ship, stolen a boat and staged a daring raid on the main game, and I've had atonishing fun in the process. I can't remember the last time I've had such a dose of concentrated enjoyment and adrenaline as I just let loose in game for the first time in ages. It's fun, it's funny, every one of my PC crew goes home with resources 2 or 3 as a result of the booty we've stolen, and it sets me up beautifully for the evening.
Camanarch.
The evening is spent failing to recognise that
hobbsthepenguin is not actually Midnyte, and so we head to the council of clans, where I'm turned away (just because I'm not a clanhead) and then the Elders Salon, where I'm turned away (Just because I'm not an elder - they're so picky!), and so we end up in the Toreador salon. The description of the room itself should have set alarm bells ringing. All my emotional states are heightened, I'm told, and I don't really want to leave. that, plus the fact it's the MST running the room should have warned me. As the evening progresses it become clear that the women in the red dress is a power here - a major power. As she faces down the Nos Justicar and then kills a FoS with a touch, it becomes clear. That woman at the end of the room is Arikel, ladies and gentlemen. The Toreador Antediluvian. Right here, right now - and now we can't leave. She's putting her clan through the mill, and harshing left right and centre. As the game works up to something, the Kindred of the East appear and do something cheesy, and kill her. I don't know what happened, I missed it, but I know an opportunity when I see one. As the Toreador all recoil in pain and distress (as the MST has told them to do), I push forwards shouting "Oh God! No! No! Let me through!", and find myself with
kwei_cee and the Toreador clanhead guarding the crumbling body from the rest of the clan. As the three of us carefully gather up the ashes of the Antediluvian I take a handful under the guise of helping and then I leave. Fast. Before onyone asks difficult questions like "Who are you?"And so it is that I leave the ICC with a handful of Antediluvian dust, and kids, I'm off to wake Set :)
Sunday.
After Saturday it's anticlimatic. Make my farewells, attend closing ceremony, grab Torley & Dave Keyes awards, leave.
Not searched at airport. Perhaps they've got bored of the sight of my arsehole.
Flight home - A word to the wise - Johnny English is Bollocks, and not worth the investment of time wacthing it, even though I was on an aeroplane with nothing to do.
However, one final note of joy. Checking my hotel bill, I notice that I wasn't charged for the in-room wanking channel. You know, that really was the icing on the cake.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-10-29 08:06 am (UTC)Flying south-east from Chicago would take you through Indiana and Kentucky.
Given that you were flying to St Louis, in Missouri, you'd have been going South West, through Illinois and then into MO.
Wisconsin is due North of Chicago (and stretches west).
Robert
no subject
Date: 2003-10-29 08:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-29 08:19 am (UTC)An hour and a half later, I've raised a crew, looted a ship, stolen a boat and staged a daring raid on the main game, and I've had atonishing fun in the process.
That actually made me laugh out loud. Sounds like the right thing to do to me. If they're going to have a pirate NPC then they should have taken more care to keep a watch out.
no subject
Date: 2003-10-29 08:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-29 08:41 am (UTC)no subject
Oh, Nicki's lj name is
I played air hockey, too. *pouts*
And you forgot mentioning your fine boogieing at Succubus Club of which I have fine photographic evidence. ;o)
What also impressed me was the size of the Great Lakes, they really are huge...
no subject
Date: 2003-10-29 02:37 pm (UTC)Gateway Arch-tastic!
hehehehe
no subject
Date: 2003-10-29 10:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-29 01:20 pm (UTC)