Tuesday, November 08, 2011
"Chasing Rabbits." Carnage Convention 2011: part 1
An old German Riddle:
Q: How does one make catching rabbits easier?
A: Run fast enough to sprinkle pepper on its tail.
No one takes credit for this mean joke played on many kids until they are about 162, but is almost universally adored.
Wednesday, 2. Nov.
Heading of of Cleveland at 8:42am, only twelve minutes late, perhaps was not the smartest thing to do as Pery and I started heading to Fairlee, Vermont by way of Syracuse, New York; rush hour traffic downtown and then towards the uptown area to get out of town was a little trying. But then again, Cleveland doesn't really have traffic jams. So the old ball and chain and I were in free-flying mode by around 9:30 and cruising through space and time to pick up Monk and K-Bell at the Syracuse airport by 3pm. We passed the time pretty much alternating between silent expectation and gamer small talk. Stuff like Ravenloft versus In Nomine and our viewing of Torchwood: Miracle Day the night before-- I had fallen asleep, but was impressed overall.
While being a little euphoric at being headed towards our "Fall convention," Pery and I were a bit guarded, as this time around we had many moving parts in the works to make things work for this trip. We were picking up a couple of our best friends in an unexplored airport in a city where I pretty much knew nothing about, except its place on a map and that Peter Weller (Robocop) is a Professor of History at its university. There was a little crimp in funds until the upcoming Friday. Pre-generated characters had to finished. My laundry wasn't done. Just all sorts of needed to fall into place.
Lucky for our square-jawed smiles, because when we arrived at the Syracuse International Airport, a poor cop detailed to the joint, pulled me over for running a Stop sign. I read him in about two seconds and knew he was going for the ticket, if not a full search of the car and a grope of my wife. When he came back with my ticket, without the other things I was half-expecting occurring, I made him repeat everything and clarify everything he said in his well-practiced spiel, and and then had the gall to pleasantly ask him directions for the surrounding area. I even asked how many Stop Signs there were in the airport's thoroughfare. There were twelve before we could get back on the interstate again. He was about to explode just before he was done, must've needed a coffee break or something.
Finding Monk and K-Bell was not hard at all. I walked in to the rather small airport, and the only "Arrival/Departure" screens were right next to where the couple walked around the corner in two minutes-- before I finished reading through the arrival lists. Monk could only laugh as he heard about me picking on the local law enforcement officers after only fifteen minutes of my arrival in their fair city. And as it happens when Monk and K-Bell arrive, the car was filled with mirth once again. Everyone, except Pery, giggled as I ran yet another Stop Sign, as my red hair started showing again.
It was still early, so we decided to travel on. Monk suggested it would be good to get some distance between me and the city of Syracuse's popo. But after an hour, the rush hour traffic started to resume, so Pery pulled out her GPS and searched for hotels and whatnot with a watery landmark within their title. As we all know, a "watery landmark" means interesting in tourism -speak. So we broke off of the toll road and headed into the wilds of New York state's bedroom communities. We ended up in Little Falls, down in their gentrified Canal District. The B&B where we stayed was decent enough, but I won't go into details because the owner had problems with his credit card machine, which I found out via a note, and then couldn't find the replacement cash tip when I left it in our room the next morning before check out.
Of course "no one and none of (his) staff had been in the room" before he decided to call me trying to shake me down at 5pm the next day. Of course he knew that I wouldn't lie about leaving dozen or so dollars he did not know how to process before completing the bill. He tried to convince me that Monk and/or K-Bell stole it from the "tip" envelope when I wasn't looking. When I mentioned that I knew had known them longer than I knew him, he realized that his coy mind game wasn't working and shifted into full aggressive douche bag mode. I never said "fuck off" but I told him to call me when he found the money to apologize or wanted to admit that he swiped it from his waiter who deserved it.
But I digress, there is a little story here. In Little Falls, the refurbished antique shop/bed & breakfast/artist studio district is about 200 yards from a railroad track. Of course the trains every thirty minutes or so. While we were sitting in the B&B's ajoining pub/restaurant, a train was going past and a busboy opened the door to the kitchen. The clock over the door way, which happened to be behind our table (our choice no one else's) fell from its perch, and shattered on the floor. After cleaning the mess up, our waiter, who was a lot of fun as well skilled stated, "That is spooky."
"It would be spooky if it was still October." I replied.
That drew a room full of laughter, it made convincing Monk and the waiter to perform a re-enactment of their reactions, just for the purposes of this blog.
Thursday, 3. Nov.
Awake at 5am means one can have some time to himself. I took a walk hoping to find some coffee and a paper, but found a laundry mat. One more thing off of the checklist to get everything working right. I met the place's owner and his big-ass dog. Are big dogs the fashion these days? I noticed everyone with a pet that I had ran into out in New York's bedroom land territory had dogs that their children could mount as warhorses...
Between the cop and the B&B owner, I guess I was finding out in "upstate" New York that if you aren't a fast rabbit, everyone is either providing pepper or about to sneeze on you.