From: mkozlows@guy.ssc.wisc.edu (Mike Kozlowski)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.written.robert-jordan
Subject: TAN: Chicago DFS, A Newbie's Report
Date: 14 Nov 1999 18:29:09 GMT

The day began, as so many of them do, with my alarm clock waking me up
far too early.  After I had performed my morning rituals and grabbed
some maps from the Web, I set off to Chicago, where'd I'd be meeting
with all these people I'd known for four years, but had not yet met.

Observation #1:  I think I began to understand just why John and Pam
have had such notorious troubles with the Ohio police -- they're used
to the Illinois habit of regarding speed limit signs as unattractive,
but meaningless, ornamentation.  I'm used to going 20 MPH over the
speed limit.  I'm even used to seeing a few people pass me up as I do
so.  I am not, however, used to seeing huge swaths of people pass me
at about 10 miles over my speed in both the fast lane and the putative
slow lane.  

Having successfully survived the insane death rush of traffic, I
arrived in one piece at Kenn's place, where I was meeting up with him
prior to the social.  Maggie and Steve Ginter were already there.  We
proceeded to basically kill a few hours before departing for the
social.  (Kenn showed us a few things on his Computer of the Gods.  I
have to admit that I was perversely pleased when he had difficulty
getting several things to work correctly and encountered some bizarre
and inexplicable errors.  Took the edge off my drooling envy -- though
I'd still be up for trading computers with Kenn.)

Observation #2: Kenn's got a nice, well-furnished apartment.  After he
let me in, I just sank back in his sofa[1], and let my feet rest on
the plush carpeting[1].  From that vantage point, I took a good look
around the place, and realized that I was quickly becoming disquieted
by the walls.  It wasn't so much the blood-red color, as it was the
slightly darker dried-blood color splotches that adorned the well here
and there; splotches which seemed to bespeak some unsavory practices,
possibly related to chainsawing human limbs.  Kenn assured me that the
painters had simply made a mistake, and I hastily agreed with him,
having no desire to make him kill me to protect his secret.

Per Kenn's schedule, we set off to Emilio's Tapas, where we quickly
met up with the rest of the folk -- Bill, Hawk, Pam, Novak, Drew, the
Hugheseses and the Millers.  My attire was a big hit; Hawk was so
overcome with desire for me that, in a moment of blind lust, she asked
me to disrobe ("Take off that fucking tie," were her exact words, I
believe).  My goatee met with a similarly positive reception,
garnering universal praise and an acknowledgement that it made me look
like even more of a dangerous badass than I already normally do ("Did
you do that on _purpose_?  It looks like a dead weasel on your face,"
was the semi-exact quote, which may not seem to convey that sentiment,
but it was clearly implied in the subtext).

Observation #3:  Someone once said here that people from this group
are pretty much the same in real life as they are on the group, and
I'll be damned if that ain't just the case.  Pretty much everyone here
was almost exactly what one would imagine from reading their posts,
only a bit nicer.  (Except for Novak:  in accordance with his explicit
order, I have to report that he's a complete badass in person.)  I'll
confess that I was a bit surprised by Hawk, though; I wasn't expecting
her to be quite as bubbly as she was.  I imagine this is because I
hadn't seen any pictures of her, so was expecting someone more like
Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2, and less like Mary Martin in Peter Pan.

We sat down at our table, and I immediately switched into sensory
overload, wherein all the new faces and voices overwhelmed me; this
effectively limited my conversational abilities to "nod and smile."
Fortunately, Hawk managed to keep up a conversation with me almost
entirely without any participation on my part.  Others were also busy
amusing the assembled masses with witty and trenchant comments.  About
the only piece of this conversation I remember now is someone's
assertion that wrapping any dessert in bacon could lead to some
interesting results.  You had to be there, I suspect.

After the meal was finished, the Hugheses and Millers took their
leave, and the rest of us went off to... well, we weren't quite sure.
Kenn's plans had only taken us this far, so we congregated outside and
planned our next move.  Several suggestions were made and vetoed, so
we decided to send out some scouts:  Drew went one way and Bill the
other, looking for some place interesting.  Both of them came back and
reported that they had found some place, but the rest of us had since
come up with other ideas, and shot down their suggestions.  Our idea
-- it seemed more sensible at the time -- was to just walk around
until we found some place.  We set off, and within a block we had
found a bar, which we entered.  Drew and Bill started a game of pool
and procured some refreshments.  Others in the party began to decide
that this place was sub-optimal for our purposes, being as how it was
difficult to hear people speak in the haze of noise which enveloped
the bar.

Thus, several people decided that they would go off and look for some
place better than the current place, then come back here and get the
remaining people.  Group inertia being what it is, pretty much
everyone except Drew and Bill set off to find this new place.  After
walking for a block and a half, it was decided that perhaps it'd be
better to unite the group now, rather than walking five blocks to find
a place, then going back to collect Drew and Bill.  So everyone turned
around, and we went back to the original bar, from which we extracted
Drew and Bill.

At this point, various people started giving Kenn hints for more fully
planning a social in the future.  Drew, with the bitter tang of
experience under his belt, simply shook his head resignedly.  My
unvoiced thought was that planning a social seemed entirely akin to
cat herding.

Eventually we decided to just go back to Kenn's place, and split up
into two groups to get there.  Foolishly, Kenn joined the group riding
in my car, instead of the group walking, out of the mistaken belief
that it's somehow faster to drive places in Chicago than it is to walk
to them.  Thus, the main group got to experience the thrill of sitting
on the steps to Kenn's apartment, looking like a peculiarly organized
group of vagrants.  I gather they actually managed to panhandle $1.50
before we arrived.

The party quickly moved up to Kenn's apartment, where people took
seats on the couch[1] and chairs[2].  Some time during the stay at
Kenn's place, I started to regain my ability to speak, and some fun
conversations were had (well, they were fun for me, anyway).  Various
groups set off, at staggered intervals (time, in Kenn's apartment, was
not marked off by the ticks of a clock, but by the clockwork ringing
of his phone at 13 and 43 minutes past every hour), to go to the 7-11
and procure beverages, cards, &c.  Several groups of people also made
covert and overt trips to The Stars Our Destination, wherein they
purchased (of all things) books.  Others of us played a card game at
the dining room table[1], which, while well played by everyone
present, was played best of all by me.

Observation #5:  Whooo!  I win!  I get the big prize!  (What?  There
is no prize?  Oh.  Well, never mind.)

At around, um, I dunno, 10 or something, it was decided that we should
go off and grab some food.  It is not by accident that I use the
passive voice in that sentence -- as far as I can tell, nobody
actually made that decision, it was just sort of decided by the
mysterious process that makes decisions in group situations.  We set
off to look for a place; within a few blocks, Bill was already
analyzing the algorithm we were using to find a place (namely: walk
indefinitely until, through some unspecified mechanism, we stop at a
specific restaurant) and finding faults in it, which faults he
proceeded to expound upon animatedly and with much metaphorical, if
not physical, arm-waving.  The party regrouped and essentially went
into the first dive we found, where people ordered burgers, chili
dogs, and the like.  Bizarrely, a Jordan conversation quite nearly
broke out at the table here, but was quickly averted.

We left the dive and went to a used bookstore which was inexplicably
still open.  Bill, due to religious reasons, was unable to enter, and
thereby missed out on -- I wish I didn't have to say this, but alas,
it's true -- a Heinlein conversation.  Thankfully, it was short-lived.
After the bookstore, we rejoined Kenn's apartment already in progress,
where we spent the rest of the night.  Bill suggested going out to do
something, but this suggestion was met by either negation or apathy
all around, and he reluctantly abandoned the idea.  The next several
hours were spent in conversation; at about 1 AM, after Hawk had fallen
asleep on Kenn's couch[1] and others were looking to soon join her in
a state of sleep (and after Drew had amused himself throwing pennies
at Hawk), it was decided to call it a night, farewells were bid, and
people departed.  I gave Pam, Bill, Hawk, and Drew a ride back to
Pam's place, and also gave Novak a ride back to his car.  Astute
students of mathematics may have noticed that the number of people
thus in my car was six, and might also consider that an Accord doesn't
easily hold six people.  As a result, we got to witness a stunning
display of contortionism as Drew tried to lay across the back seat on
people's laps.

After I dropped everyone off, and Pam told me that going to St. Louis
was the easiest way to get home, I drove the two hours home, still
reflecting upon, and amused by, the events of the day.  I had a
surprisingly fun time -- "surprisingly," not because I wasn't
expecting to have fun, but because I wasn't expecting to have _that_
much fun.  It was nice to finally meet all these people, and even just
sitting around talking was boatloads of fun.  I look forward to doing
this again some time.

[1] Hardwood floor, to be more accurate.
[2] End tables, to be more accurate.

-- 
Michael Kozlowski                                        
http://www.ssc.wisc.edu/~mkozlows/