LJ Idol Season 8, Week 6: "Food Memory"
Special Delivery
Several years ago, the American Translators Association was holding their annual conference in Seattle. The previous year, when the conference was in Toronto, one of the local directors had hosted a Scrabble event, involving Polyglot Scrabble. It worked so well that the ATA contacted our club about running it again. Our director dispatched myself and my friend Dan (verbophage) to
make it happen.
Having brought the required materials home the previous Tuesday, I drove into town on a blustery Friday evening. After picking up Dan, we spent twenty minutes circling downtown looking for parking, Tom Lehrer blasting on the stereo.
I ache for the touch of your lips, dear / But much more for the touch of your whips, dear...
"If you ever catch me dating a woman like that," I say to Dan, "feel free to shoot me."
"No need--you wouldn't last half an hour."
"I'd last longer than you would...."
Eventually we find parking several blocks away and begin toting everything to our destination. I should mention at this point that half of the Scrabble boards we had were in standard-issue boxes, while the other half lived in recycled pizza boxes.
So there we are, in the lobby of the Westin. For whatever reason, everyone in the lobby is in full formal wear--except us, two shlubs in khakis and polos looking for the elevators. Finally, we find them and hop aboard, along with several other people who eye us suspiciously.
Finally one of them turns to me. "That's gotta be a prank," she says. "Nobody orders that much pizza."
"Open the box," I tell her. Warily, she does so, exposing one of the boards to the rest of the group. This gives us an opportunity to explain our purpose, which everyone seems to appreciate.
The event itself went swimmingly; about a dozen people showed up, and I counted words played in at least seven languages. Afterwards, Dan and I hauled everything back out to the car. "You hungry?" I asked.
"I could eat. You got a place in mind?"
I looked down at the boxes in my arms. "Well, I know this pizza joint over on Greenwood..."
Several years ago, the American Translators Association was holding their annual conference in Seattle. The previous year, when the conference was in Toronto, one of the local directors had hosted a Scrabble event, involving Polyglot Scrabble. It worked so well that the ATA contacted our club about running it again. Our director dispatched myself and my friend Dan (verbophage) to
make it happen.
Having brought the required materials home the previous Tuesday, I drove into town on a blustery Friday evening. After picking up Dan, we spent twenty minutes circling downtown looking for parking, Tom Lehrer blasting on the stereo.
I ache for the touch of your lips, dear / But much more for the touch of your whips, dear...
"If you ever catch me dating a woman like that," I say to Dan, "feel free to shoot me."
"No need--you wouldn't last half an hour."
"I'd last longer than you would...."
Eventually we find parking several blocks away and begin toting everything to our destination. I should mention at this point that half of the Scrabble boards we had were in standard-issue boxes, while the other half lived in recycled pizza boxes.
So there we are, in the lobby of the Westin. For whatever reason, everyone in the lobby is in full formal wear--except us, two shlubs in khakis and polos looking for the elevators. Finally, we find them and hop aboard, along with several other people who eye us suspiciously.
Finally one of them turns to me. "That's gotta be a prank," she says. "Nobody orders that much pizza."
"Open the box," I tell her. Warily, she does so, exposing one of the boards to the rest of the group. This gives us an opportunity to explain our purpose, which everyone seems to appreciate.
The event itself went swimmingly; about a dozen people showed up, and I counted words played in at least seven languages. Afterwards, Dan and I hauled everything back out to the car. "You hungry?" I asked.
"I could eat. You got a place in mind?"
I looked down at the boxes in my arms. "Well, I know this pizza joint over on Greenwood..."