The ladies refrained from coming with us to the Lower Lobby's restaurant. When we arrived, there were only four other people at the buffet. Considering it was 7:00AM on a Sunday, I shouldn't have been too surprised. Even with only four customers, Reverend Al and I enjoyed the fruits of fame after we got our food.
|Not pictured: Reverend Al performing overhead tricep extensions with the fruit table.|
Noticing that that the Macho Man and Metrosexual Wolverine had entered the room a woman yelled, "Oh my God, it's you two!"
Ready to thank her already, Reverend Al started to open his mouth until she finished her thought.
"The guys from the elevator!"
Well, hell. We're lords of a moving room, that's cool. We gave her a polite wave, had a sentimental and meaningful discussion with each other, and went up to get the ladies for day three.
If there's one thing that people who have traveled road with me
|My love of morning sunshine ruined my Black Metal Career.|
As we waited to start, some DJ was wise to this morning energy. Once Depeche Mode came over the PA, I just needed to dance. Yes, mornings make me the drunk blonde girl at every eighties night. While keeping to the downbeat of "Just Can't Get Enough, " I was joined in my revelry with fellow morning warrior, HYMEN HEAVEN. It was a vindication of my spirit and a nod to the Bennington dance parties I have with my fellow grad students.
Now ready to rumble, I called the DC vs Steel City game with Paige Layout, Rockerboy, and KD Caustic. This made is the fifth time I've called a DC game this season. As our old buddy Mayhem skates on their league, it fills my heart with blood to feel invested in their futures. That investment came at a price. At the end of the game, I became mini-Dumptruck.
My voice was all right if I kept quiet. A whisper? I became Reverend Al. Talking in a manner where people could hear me? Dumptruck. With this newfound vocal range, I had no choice but to record the three of us for a contest that will be featured on the latest Power Jammers podcast. Here's a sample of the game (for the love of Zeus, use your headphones).
The afternoon was filled with some fine-ass derby, and when it came to the bout that had me on pins and needles, I had the pleasure of calling it with Justice Feelgood Marshall. A word on Justice: the dude's brain should be studied by sports scientists and military strategists. Almost nothing gets past him, not even MC Hammer and Skid Row jokes. It was effortless to call the game alongside a man who knows what he's talking about. When the dust settled, Charm City was victorious. Still, it was cool to know my family was watching and had great things to say about Lil Paine and the Massacre. What my parents didn't understand was why I had them tune into a game where the Reverend Al was calling for DNN.
|It's DNN Appreciation Day!|
The Championship game saw me take the third seat next to Hymen Heaven and Rockerboy. By this time, I was full-on Joan Rivers on HGH. A couple of times, I could have sworn Rocker was giving me the eye that says, "Are you F%^&* with me?" I was not. Third mike was colder than the reception we received by the spray-tanned natives, so speaking quietly was not an option. Rockerboy, who had worked so damn hard the entire weekend went on autopilot. But I will tell you this, you would never know. He's amazing. So too is Hymen Heaven, who is so sharp that you could shave with her wit.
|The victorious ladies of Eastern Regionals. Not pictured: Dread teasing me about my voice.|
Once the games were over, the celebration began. However, the party was over for me. Voice broken and tired beyond comprehension, I piled Hayley, Dread, and the Reverend into the car and we made our way home. Looking back on my time in White Plains, I am humbled and honored to have been a part of the announcing team, and roller derby in general. Now rested and back to normal, I look at the past weekend with love in my heart for Suburbia and all people who worship the quad skate.
Thank you, Suburbia. We love you.