Sunday, November 21, 2010

2010 Nationals - An efficient, if late recap of my favorite moments

Hello folks, it’s been a while. In the two weeks since the 2010 Championships, I’ve been busy writing new short stories, assuring graduate school I have not forgotten it, and teaching the dog how to cook Lamb Vindaloo. I’ve been so busy, that I neglected to post any entries about my time in Chicago with the fantastic ladies and gentlemen of WFTDA, particularly those I favor more than some of my own family.  Thankfully, Dreadnought has posted a day-by-day breakdown on the Roller Derby Quilt blog about her own experiences. I endorse them, even though I feel I come off a bit “Lindsay Lohan, age 18” in them. I didn’t party all night, folks, I just started my celebration of the coming dawn at 9PM.

Chicago’s influence is still felt in my household. Yes, Uproar on the Lakeshore brought my larynx’s range inevitably closer the Dumptruck/Rev Al markers on my handy scale of vocal health.

Bruce Dickinson is only higher up on the scale because it also is a sub-chart of awesomeness.

The trip’s assault on the velvety-throat of Pelvis was a cunning one. Put me in a hotel with Salome Splatter, her gentleman suitor, Dread, and my dear friends from around the country and there is no way I cannot shut up.  Add the volume of other motor-mouths, great derby, and awesome topics, and my voice was doomed. So doomed that I could not sing at the karaoke bar on Saturday night.

Given time away from this blog, I was thinking how to best cover as much of the action without giving you three, extremely late, recaps. So, I’ve decided to give you some photos that underscore why this weekend was so amazing.

Although I took no photos of the first night in Chicago, I want to point out that there is nothing finer than drinking with Mike Chexx, Mz. Spydr, and the ladies of Rose City before the start of a tournament. It was great to catch-up, kick back, and greet my roommates who had to fly in later than Dread and me with a drink in my hand and a song in my heart. 

Then there was this:

Who really lost the bet? Seriously.
Dumptruck was calling the first bout of the tournament for DNN. The Texecutioners vs. Bay Area was something I had been looking forward to more than anyone else I'd traveled with, and it isn't because of my unappreciated love of Demanda Riot (come on guys, all that ability and being one of the Uruk-Hai? You're the weird ones.). Bay Area's recent uptick in the ratings had me hoping they would win. Hell, Dumptruck was sporting the gold after losing his bet at Westerns in which he believed Denver would knock them out of the running. Even though Texas won against BAD, and by Thor they were excellent, we were treated to the Bay Area D-Bags in all their glory. 

Yes. Roller Derby.
The games were excellent. Even with a couple of blowouts, the gameplay was fantastic. The officiating, minus a few bad calls, was top notch.  I've been all around the country calling games this year, and I witnessed crews doing far, far worse in bouts where people didn't complain about the zebras. So, hats off to the officiating crew.

Texas vs. Gotham was a great way to start the day.

Of course, with all that gameplay, you need to break up the monotony. And, aside from partying, you need to dance:

We bring it so hard, the world goes out of focus.

And eat:
I wasn't going to steal it, I was running on Halls and tea.
And spend time with your friends:
Boston teams cross-pollinating makes my heart fill with blood.
There electricity of Championships could not be denied. For those of you like Lady Oshun and myself, you are wondering what it was like at the after parties. Here's an idea:
Announcers rush the photobooth



I am cheering violence.


  I will not be silenced!
Most nights ended with Lady Oshun and I on the Mezzanine with our buddies until four or five in the morning. We would gab about the games, the best musicals to croon to Justice when he was wearing hot shorts on his head that made him look like the Virgin Mary (Jesus Christ Superstar=no, Grease=yes), and generally fight off the Christmas Eve-like excitement that kept us up until sunrise. During the weekend, I had prided myself with my catlike ability to pad into my room undetected and get into bed without waking the Splatters or Dread. Weeks removed, I am certain I was not so stealthy, but my roommates were tolerant of my early-morning creeping.

There is a ton I am leaving out, mainly because it's fueling some fictional plots that I am working on, but I left Chicago realizing that some of the better moments of my trip were sitting next to Dread and watching games together for a change. That was brilliant.

Love you, roller derby.


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