From lucrezia@mindspring.com Sat Oct 18 17:51:34 1997 Date: Wed, 15 Oct 1997 23:32:07 -0700 From: "Jennifer S. Ouellette" Reply-To: MA-MODS@montagar.com To: MA-MODS@montagar.com Cc: jcl@flagstaff.princeton.edu, ldg450@lulu.acns.nwu.edu Subject: Minneapolis Madness: The Roadies' Tale [LONG] CHAPTER I: The Gathering Early Thursday afternoon, two young RMAM knights templar set off on separate journeys: one a Korean psych/poli-sci major from Johns Hopkins (Richard Kim), the other an engineering grad student from Princeton (John Leyleglian). Their mutual destination: a secret place of refuge in the heart of the East Village that can only be reached by those brave souls able to pass successfully through the Holland Tunnel and maneuver through the twisting streets of SoHo/Tribeca until they locate Houston Street and follow it east to Avenue B. After numerous wrong turns and a tour of lower Manhattan, Rich arrives at the appointed meeting place; minutes later, so does John. It is here they find the legendary Aging Crone (Jennifer Ouellette) who will join them on their journey and, with her wisdom and gentle keening, keep them from killing each other en route.... Okay, enough of that nonsense. If I keep up in the above vein, I'll never finish this..... Anyway, we all go to dinner at this nifty Cajun diner; any place with a plastic bust of Elvis in the window and a simple sign reading "EAT" has got to be good. And it is, especially the garlic mashed potatoes. :) Then we come back to my place and watch the first two "South Park" episodes, which set the general tone and form the basis for most of the in-joke humor for the rest of the trip. A small sampling (the less profane lines, at least): "Ooh, snacky-cakes... kick ass!" "Yeah, I want some cheesy-poofs!" "I ki' yew! I fill yew full o' lead!" "Kick the _Baay_-bee!" "I'se jus' callin' you a lil' wuss-boy, thazzall...." and especially (screamed at full volume, if possible): "Oh my God! They killed Kenny! YOU BASTARDS!!" These are repeated ad infinitum throughout our journey. Anyway, we go to bed early and get up around 4 AM, shower, pick up Rich's car (which I insisted he park in a 24-hour secured garage, rather than on my slightly dodgy block), and manage to be on the NJ Turnpike by 6 AM. We stop about two hours later for breakfast in a small Pennsylvania town, where Rich consents to let the aging white chick drive his car.... After another couple of hours on the road, we all agree that Pennsylvania is lovely countryside, but too much of it tries the patience. Finally, we cross the state border into Ohio. We stop for refueling, and Rich discovers an arcade with... TEKKEN 3!! He is ecstatic. Remembering the Matt Wiegel/missed train episode, we limit him to a couple of games before taking off. The less said about Ohio the better. This whole leg of the journey is defined by corn fields, cows, more corn, more cows, etc. It is almost completely flat terrain, with few distinguishing features. CHAPTER II: Wildin' In the Windy City Some 12-13 hours after leaving the Big Apple, we finally reach Angie Guillozet's place in Evanston, IL. [Her last name is pronounced "gee-OH-zee", and we practice it a few times, combining it with Joao ("zho-WOW") just to see how it sounds.] By this time John and Rich are bickering constantly like an old married couple, over such earth-shattering topics as the correct exit number. We are greeted on a pleasant, tree-lined street by a pretty redhead with a really big smile. This is Angie, my twin sister from a previous life! We bring in all our gear and collapse in her living room; fortunately, she catches onto the South Park humor fairly quickly and joins right in. We go to a local Italian restaurant for dinner, where I decide Rich's entree is MUCH better than mine, and proceed to eat at least half of it. Although he is clearly a mean, hardened macho dude who sows fear wherever his feet pass, he meekly allows me to pilfer his plate. While we're there, Rich calls an old high school pal of his who just happens to live around the corner. She joins us at the restaurant and convinces everyone to troop off to Chicago proper for an improvisational comedy show called (I kid you not) "Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind". It's basically 30 super-short plays presented in one hour, or as many as the troupe can complete within that time frame. The audience is handed a list of the titles and encouraged to scream and yell for whichever ones they want to see. Some are hilarious, others amusing, and a couple are simply incomprehensible. This may have been due to my growing exhaustion, however, not to mention the onset of a migraine headache. We get back to Angie's house well after midnight, by which time I can barely see straight. Survival instincts kick in, and I promptly commandeer the spare bedroom, leaving John and Rich the two couches. Sorry guys.... I was in pain and greatly in need of rest in a quiet place. Rich and John stay up another two hours watching more "South Park" episodes, gathering material for the next day's drive. We leave around 10 AM or so, with Angie rounding out the male/female ratio nicely. Thankfully, Wisconsin has better scenery than Ohio. However, Angie learned an important lesson about speeding in Eau Claire County: "Don't Do It." She is caught going 81 MPH and pulled over by a very polite state trooper who nevertheless insists that she pay the $140 on the spot, since she is from out-of-state. Lacking the cash, I hand over my credit card. The trooper doesn't bat an eye at the combination of Texas plates, an Illinois driver's license, and a credit card with a NYC billing address, all for a speeding ticket in Wisconsin. "Show me the money!" indeed. Sadly, our planned "Bohemian Rhapsody" defense fails: "But officer, 'Bohemian Rhapsody' by Queen was playing, and everyone knows when it does, YOU MUST ROCK! And ya can't rock goin' a piddly 65, now can ya?!?" Right up there with the Twinkie Defense. I still say Angie should have flirted with him.... Although the out-of-state license plate is the obvious culprit for making us conspicuous, we decide to blame it on the fact that Angie has a Korean guy with a ROTC buzzcut in the seat next to her. This is mostly because Rich drove between 90 and 95 MPH for several hours before handing the wheel over to Angie, without getting caught. There is no justice.... CHAPTER III: Minneapolis, Our Mecca Finally we pull into Minneapolis, and locate the Holiday Inn. Mike Krantz (our hero!) has thoughtfully reserved a room for me and Angie on the 14th floor, right by the pool and workout facilities; Rich and John are on the 7th floor, next to Mike and a guy called Crazy Vinnie. We settle in and wander over to the sports pavilion, just in time for the last few preliminary sparring matches in the tournament. Having heard rumors of Brad Webb's 70s afro hairdo, we pick out the one likely candidate from among the competitors on the sidelines. Alas, this is not Brad, but one Michael Fusaro, son of an eminent shotokan practitioner in the area, and one of the most promising contenders in the tournament. We quickly dub him "Poodlehead" (with all due respect, of course) :) Finally, Angie spots some people from her school in Chicago, and they point out a VERY clean-cut, bespectacled individual in slacks, dress shirt and tie among the JUDGES! This is Brad, and he has been pulled from the competition to serve as a judge because the tournament is short-handed. [He also has poison ivy, informing John and Rich of this fact AFTER shaking hands with them.] So we didn't get to see him fight after all. We DID see a beautifully executed spinning back kick by one of the other fighters, though.... Angie recognizes a red-haired woman with a long braid on the bleachers as Lauren "Rad-Grrl" Radner (Web page photos can come in handy), and introductions are made all around. Last but not least, Mike Krantz wanders up with a big, friendly grin on his face. The RMAM circle is now complete. Rich tries to show John his version of a spinning back kick, despite his recent knee surgery. Angie unwittingly insults him by exclaiming, "You look like you're dancing!" "AUGH! I am tough, goddammit!" I assure him he is a fighting machine, and is, in fact, "ferociously graceful." Thus the Wrath of Kim-ba is (temporarily) appeased. Everyone returns to the hotel to freshen up, and we meet for dinner at a restaurant across the street called Grandma's. The food is delicious, the company even better. We meet Brad's wife, Elizabeth, and several of his students (including Mike, of course) and other tournament participants. Brad is as hysterically funny and animated in person as he is on line -- and certainly not above demonstrating his signature "Leaping Frog Stance" defense in the hotel lobby after dinner. Rich hangs out with Mike Krantz, Patrick, Miguel and several other Dallas sorts until the wee hours, downing whiskey in the hot tub. John L. retires to his room, and Angie and I stay up until 1 AM bonding with the usual "girl talk." [Rich says he TRIED to bond with John when he finally returned to the room, but received sleepy grunts in reply. How odd....] The next day Mike and John knock on our door at 9 AM to invite us for a swim and then breakfast. They discover that Angie is _not_ a morning person... :) Nevertheless, we do manage to rise early enough to work out a little and use the pool and hot tub before heading over the Pavilion for the tournament finals. Overall it proves a little dull, although I find it fascinating since it's so different from my style. Rich and I are hoping for blood in the kumite, being savage types, and one of the Chicago school's competitors finally obliges, getting in a clean strike to his opponent's nose and narrowly escaping disqualification. Michael Fusaro cleans up in the medal category, but RMAM loyalty prevails: we still say Brad coulda taken him, poison ivy and all! That evening, the four "Roadies," Mike Krantz and Lauren repair to a Japanese restaurant for a sushi dinner (although many of us opted for cooked food). We are increasingly loud and rowdy, especially after a couple "Midori margaritas." Rich expounds on his theory that almost anything can be made into an off-color innuendo, e.g., "steaming miso soup": "_I'll_ show you steaming soup, right here...." [It doesn't translate well over email, but really does work for everything.] We think it is hilarious. The diners seated directly behind us do not, and wear shocked and/or outraged expressesions for most of their meal. Rich goads me into trying a piece of sushi simply drenched in wasabi and soy sauce: "Here, just take bite... oh, hell, just take the whole thing." He shoves the whole piece into my mouth, and I spend the next five minutes trying to swallow through the laughter and sting of the wasabi sauce. Rich gallantly takes a photo of me in this less-than-ladylike state. [He also informs me that my laugh is decidedly "unfeminine." He has a point.... I call it "joie de vivre".] There is some high-spirited, impromptu sparring in the parking lot while Mike and Lauren settle up the bill, and then we repair back to the hotel, Rich swearing repeatedly at the poorly designed streets of Minneapolis: they literally change direction without warning in the oddest places, so you can see your destination, think you're heading straight for it, and end up on a highway leading to Wichita or something.... We go to the guys' room to check out Rich's amazing bell bottom gi. Mike and Rich confer on thai boxing stances, then Mike retires. The rest of us go to "the girls' room" for nightcaps and Tarot readings, conducted by yours truly. The fortunes that were told are secret and confidential, but mine was the most depressing of the lot. Sigh. CHAPTER IV: Homeward Bound (or, Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow) We rise at 5 AM Monday morning and meet in the lobby an hour later. The weather, which has been positively balmy, has undergone a stunning transformation overnight, and it is now around 35 degrees outside. Mike Krantz sleepily stumbles into the lobby to drive some Dallas folks to the airport for their flights; that is the last we see of him. The drive back to Evanston is mostly uneventful. We do stop off for breakfast at a nice family diner that also sells fudge in the shape of cow pats. The food was great in spite of this. :) We reach Angie's place about 2:30 PM and sit around and talk until 4 PM, when it dawns on everyone that rush hour is about to begin. John needs to be back in Princeton by Tuesday afternoon, so it's going to be an "all nighter". I have elected to stay an extra day in Chicago to go on a date with a guy I met last week who lives nearby, and to spend some extra time with Angie. It suddenly occurs to everyone at once that THE PARTY IS OVER! "WAAAH!" Teary embraces, only half mocking, are exchanged all around. Final group photos are taken, one that John finds very disturbing.... :) As the boys drive off, Angie and I speculate whether they can make it all the way back without killing each other. Fast forward to 6:30 the next morning. I am in a dead sleep on Angie's couch when the phone rings. Angie answers, and I hear her saying "What? What? WHAT?! Hold on a minute...." She stumbles into the living room, saying, "It's Rich and John. They say they've only got one phone call, there was a problem with John's credit card at a gas station in Columbus, Ohio, and the attendant thought they were trying to leave without paying and called the cops, who arrested them...." Fortunately, Angie's sister lives in Columbus and can drive over and bail them out. We are both stunned and I am thinking that my credit card really doesn't need an extra $300 charge for bail money after Angie's parking ticket. She goes back to the phone, says "What police station are you at?" and hears Rich and John laughing hysterically. They are, in fact, calling from John's apartment to let us know they've arrived safely and thought it would be "cool" to play a practical joke on us. "That is EEEE-vil! You are dead... DEAD, I tell you...." is Angie's morning-persona response. CHAPTER V: What Rich and John Missed After that, we felt compelled to have loads of fun to make them feel bad about having to leave early. We go first to the Amtrak station to pick up my train ticket and put my luggage in a locker. This takes us until about lunchtime. Angie takes me to the top of the Hancock Building where there is a restaurant and observation deck, not to mention a yummy $8 buffet of gourmet food and, yes, garlic whipped potatoes. Chicago is a lovely city, and you can see nearly all of it from up there. The view is breathtaking. After lunch, we repair to Angie's lab in the clinical neurology department at Northwestern, where I meet her co-workers, get to observe tissue samples of diseased brain cells, and hold the human "training brain" in my own two hands while a technician takes our picture. The lab has an entire refrigerator and butcher-style freezer full of brains. Really. I also scan her first soon-to-published technical article, and find it mostly incomprehensible. Her verbal lay-person version is much more concise. The photos are pretty nifty, though. Around 4 PM we take off again, stopping at FAO Schwartz to play with display toys. We both covet a globe with a built-in computer that plays the national anthem or typical cultural music, as well as pertinent geographic facts, about any country you touch with a special pencil. Alas, it is $400.... Finally, we get to the train station, retrieve my luggage, and Angie sees me off. *sniff* She has promised to come visit in NYC and meet the rest of you guys.... EPILOGUE In short, this was a really wonderful trip. I am amazed that the "roadies", who barely knew each other except for email exchanges beforehand, managed not only to tolerate each other for a very long trip, but to genuinely like each other and have a blast. [Yeah, we bonded. But we still tough guys, okay?] Mike, your helpfulness and generosity during our Minneapolis stay apparently knew no bounds. Thanks a million for making everything run so smoothly when we arrived. Brad, what can I say? We all think you're terrific and regret not getting to see more of you while in Minneapolis. Hopefully you can kick butt at next year's tournament and reclaim your rightful title. :) Lauren, you had me in stitches over dinner and it was a genuine pleasure meeting you. I hope you fill in your own version of events, as well as the story of the lemurs presented to you in Dallas. Angie is a soul mate, plain and simple. I foresee some trips to Chicago in my future to maintain the friendship. Rich and John -- you guys are a scream. We really do need to compile a list of the quotables from the trip, or at least as many as we can remember. [RICH: "Not in the face! Not in the face! I'm too pretty to die!"] And definitely keep in touch. --Jennifer [God, this is long -- but is WAS several days!]