A Few Impossible Things Before Breakfast

Dearest Rachel –

Normally, the two of us would be scrambling to get everything put together and out to the car before we headed out to the sponsor brunch. this was basically because we needed to check out by noon, and we would probably barely be finished with brunch by then. Not because we ate so much, but that we were hanging out and talking with the guests and with fellow sponsors.

Today, that’s not really necessary, as the room block specified that my stay was going to be for four days, from Thursday night to Monday morning. So, there’s no rush to tear down and pack everything just yet. i’m sure that by five or six tonight, I’m going to wish that I could head out, but that remains to be seen.

I should probably fill you in on the events of last night, such as they were, before I proceed. After all, I think that still counts as before today’s breakfast, doesn’t it?

As I suggested in my previous email, I decided not to bother with the cosplay. It isn’t so much that that was your thing, but like with everything else this weekend, it really wasn’t calling out to me. Especially not with Nightelf in town, and the catching up we were still trying to do. We went out to the Wig and Pen, which turned out not to be a British-style pub, but rather a pizza joint. They claimed to offer a Chicago style deep dish pizza, and I was mock-challenged to verify its authenticity.

I will say I’ve certainly had worse. To be honest, the worst I could say about it is something along the lines of what Marshal Pierre Bosquet had to say about the infamous Charge of the Light Brigade: “C’est magnifique, mais ce n’est pas la guerre” (“It’s magnificent, but it’s not war.”) Or rather, it’s very good, but it’s not Chicago style. The crust, rather than being crispy and crunchy, is flaky and almost melts in your mouth. The sauce, while covering everything, is thin, with no chunks of tomatoes, but rather a liberal dousing of Parmesan cheese. In the whole pie it is generously packed with mozzarella and a spicy sausage. I believe I would give it a 3.5/5; would very much recommend.

We continued to talk about the various changes in our lives since the last time we met in person. Honestly, I can’t remember which AnimeIowa we both attended together last; I’m fairly certain it was when were in Coralville, so that would put it at 2017 or before. So that’s a long time, and a lot of water to have passed under the bridge since. I needn’t go into the changes I’ve dealt with, and you already are aware of Nightelf’s story, so I am going to leave it at that for the most part. It does rather boil down to the fact that neither of us understands what the other has been going through. But that is no shortcoming for either of us; rather, it is the way of the world:

·No one else can know your sadness [L A heart knows its emotional distress], and strangers cannot share your joy.

Proverbs 14:10, Expanded Bible

I’m not entirely sure whether it’s consoling that neither good nor the bad that any one of us experiences can be felt by anyone else. but, it is what it is.

We talked about the music we grew up with, when we first heard certain specific songs, and the topic of AMVs comes up. When we return to the hotel, we go to my room where I show some of the best of our collection before we both realize we’re getting tired and need sleep. I bid N.E. a good night…

…and proceed to head downstairs, wandering through the crowd on the Riverwalk, still in full-on party mode. It’s hard to ignore from my room, so if you can’t beat them…

For what it’s worth, I did manage to find (purely by accident, I assure you) Erin, Kyle and Micha, who I’d met on Thursday night.

The gang on the lower landing were playing a game of mob volleyball with a beach ball. Evidently, Erin had been hit in the face with the ball earlier, and was cheering for it to fly backwards into the pond behind them the crowd. Unfortunately for her and Micha, they leave to refresh their drinks just as the ball (improbably, but clearly not impossibly) came sailing towards me. I caught it and ran like I was about to make a pick six over on the other side of the upper landing, before having pity on them, and throwing it back. Don’t know if Erin ever got back to take her own type of vengeance when the ball flew errantly in their direction later on.

Misty because I couldn’t stay in the midst of this indefinitely. For that matter, even you probably would have gotten overwhelmed by it, wending your way through vapor and even cigar smoke – there’s only so much that the wind could do to dissipate that. And as much as you loved the social scene of the convention, there were some things you just couldn’t deal with. That, and the lack of games to spontaneously play with others (granted, the tabletop gaming room was still open until two a.m., but it’s no longer the sort of thing you could just jump into on a whim, so that would probably have cramped your style) would have been a major buzzkill, as far as you were concerned. I’d like to think you would have adapted to it – although I certainly wouldn’t have minded if you couldn’t, and we could just spend that much more time together in the room.

Anyway, now that it’s morning, there’s not that much time to spend in the room even if I don’t have to pack right now. With the whole ‘limited supply’ issue regarding 2020 AI shirts, I have to get to the Marketplace early in order to possibly snag one. Fortunately, being a sponsor allows me that luxury.

However, I wake up a little too early, thanks to leaving my window cracked (don’t want a repeat of yesterday’s sleeping in), and find myself with two and a half hours of liberty. Another impossible thing – trying to judge how much time I need and will take.

My wanderings will have to be a separate letter, as there’s nothing extraordinary about them in particular. But they are distracting enough that I almost miss the 9:30 opening time.

But mirabile dictu, I make it in time, get myself in, and there’s a whole spread of them out for sale.

So, I now have mine.

And with everything set now, I am off to breakfast. Talk to you later.

Published by randy@letters-to-rachel.memorial

I am Rachel's husband. Was. I'm still trying to deal with it. I probably always will be.

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