Loins Well and Truly Girded

The time has come!  Well actually it hasn't, which is a slightly anti climactic follow up to a first sentence that was embellished with an exclamation mark.  Nevertheless while the time hasn't come it's train is definitely pulling into the station.  That time when I gird up my loins, sharpen my game and head down to the overambitious sheep run that serves as my nation's capital for a long weekend of gaming.  Interspersed with the gaming will be fine (or possibly coarse) dining at some of Canberra's best (or at least most affordable) restaurants and of course incessant cow commentary on the trip down.

Last year I caught the train down but Ivan obviously missed the cow commentary because he tearfully begged for my company to lighten the tedium of the journey and help dull the fact that we were travelling to Canberra voluntarily.  Well, when I say he tearfully begged for my company what I mean is he didn't raise any objections when I said I'd be travelling with him.  Well, not violent objections anyway.  Or at least not particularly violent objections.  And I'm sure the death threats were a joke, reasonably sure.

The good thing about Canberra is; and I suddenly realise I have no way to finish that sentence.  No wait, I've got it.  The good thing about Canberra is that they don't try and prevent you from leaving.  However one advantage it has over, for example, Gulargambone is more hotels.  This means that a transient population always has somewhere to stay.  I'm staying at a hotel that has the advantage of being quite close to where Ivan will be parking his car which means that if I get up early enough and lie in front of it Ivan will be pretty much forced to drive me to the venue as well.

And what a venue it is, they even have air conditioning now.  This innovation presented itself last year to the dismay of those of us who had been living in a sauna for the previous week to acclimatise ourselves to gaming conditions.  Still on balance I think its a good thing particularly until such times as attendees heed the increasingly desperate pleas of the organisers to wear deodorant.  Within this climate controlled barn I and my fellow ASL fanatics (I think I can use the term, anyone who comes to Canberra for a game is definitely not making rational decisions) will seize a corner and then defend it with tooth and claw against Pathfinder freaks, Warhammer maniacs, Miniatures loons and occasional Magic: The Gathering nutcases.  Gathering what exactly?  Certainly not the respect of your fellow men. 

It's getting harder and harder to fight off the gaming hordes.  We don't actually take up a great deal of space but our tables and place in the air conditioning is eyed with jealous resentment by exponents of other games looking to expand their territory and influence.  Safely distant, I'm not privy to the vicious turf battles our organiser Andy Rogers has to go through to secure us this small but desired location but the strain is telling on him and his requests for early booking and a confirmation of numbers get more desperate by the year.  If we were to simply turn up on the day with our equipment and hopeful expressions on our faces we would be swamped beneath a tide of black t-shirts and unusual skin conditions.

I have great hopes for my chances this year.  I'm psychologically prepared.  I've girded the crap out of my loins (a sentence which gets more disturbing each time I reread it) and sharpened my game to such a point that I accidentally stabbed myself with it yesterday.  All my opponents have going for them is the fact that most of them are actually better at the game than I am.  I pity them for a storm is coming.  Fortunately we'll be inside in the air conditioning.