Subject: The REAL Millenium Milloynium Madness From: Kenneth G. Cavness Organization: Proxicom, Inc. Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.written.robert-jordan NNTP-Posting-Host: 204.56.106.28 Yes, I am aware that there is a moratorium on social reports because of a petty wish to keep others from knowing what is going on. I am hereby breaking through the picket lines. Cancel-bot at your pleasure. [1] Oddly enough, my partying started long before I even reached Indianapolis. In fact, my partying started two days after Christmas. Ken Gerrard arrived in Chicago that week, as did Steve Ginter, Paul Raj Khangure, and Bill McCarthy. So, Ken Gerrard, Madhu, and I watched _The Mask_ one night and made it an early evening, and the next day we went to Ikea. Or rather, we tried to go to Ikea. Because, like, wow. Note: US-41 is not I-94. And I-94 is not I-90. And Deerfield is most definitely not Schaumberg. About an hour and a half after leaving, we finally arrive at the 20-minute-drive-from-my-place that is Ikea. Now, I hate shopping. I mean, I *really* hate shopping. So, Ken is sort of wondering whether he's going to need to have me put in restraints as I careen through three floors of screaming children, whining parents, and generally obnoxious teens looking for the *perfect* balsa-wood kitchen table + chair set. We do get to have some Lovely Ice at the Ikea Cafeteria and then set out for the mini-Chicago DFS being hosted at Goose Island. At 4:30pm. In Chicago. On the Kennedy Expressway (and I use the term "Expressway" loosely). Approximately 5:30, we arrive at Goose Island for the 5:00pm social to much catcalling from those already there (which would be everyone, including a slightly frozen Bill McCarthy, who had been waiting in vain at my place for us to arrive.) Goose Island Bar is ... well, it's very woody. And, um, it's a bar. Aside from that, there's not much to say about it. We did have an extremely interesting Queso^WCheese Fondue-in-a-bread- bowl dish, and I had the World's Best Fish and Chips (an exaggeration, I assure you), while others apparently had Stetson Cheese or something like that burgers. After that, we retired to my place as usual for a night of awkward conversational starts until someone made me annoyed enough to force everyone present to watch _The Celluloid Closet_. At that point, we had no problems at all making fun of such luminaries as Susie Bright and Elizabeth Taylor. On Friday, Bill McCarthy spent time with the family, so Ken Gerrard and I went to the outlet mall in Gurnee Mills. Once again: I hate shopping. We didn't spend a large amount of time in each store. We did, however, see what appeared to be the Kiddie Corps of the Navy out on patrol throughout the mall. Extremely odd. The Illinois Naval Force: Protecting our country from maritime invasion... On Saturday, Michael Kozlowski and Pam Korda set out as their half of the Chicago Convoy. Ken Garrard, Bill McCarthy, and myself set out as the other half. Note how much shorter the list of people actually going to Indianapolis became. I've still no idea why. We managed to make a 3 and a half hour drive extremely short, despite being stopped by a K-9 Cop, a possible Indianapolis Colts upset over the Miami Dolphins, and a mad dash for the Indianapolis airport to pick up Skwid and Tina with a Suzuki Grand Vitara rental that was decidedly full already. That's okay, though, because I was in the front seat. Upon arriving at the Days Inn, we checked in (where I managed, in a very still silence, to emote one of the largest farts I've ever emoted right on top of Tina's head. Lovely start to the trip...) and marveled at the pink stucco and 3-cubic-inch lobby. We went to our prospective rooms. Now, I've heard a lot of complaining about the inn, and I'm sure it's all justified, but for the most part, I feel that I got exactly what I paid for: approximately $25/night per person, with Madhu and I sharing a room. Sure, there was no remote control for the TV. Sure, there were cigarette stains on the area between the two beds in the room. Perhaps the beds were firmer than usual, though that's exactly the kind of bed I like, so it didn't bother me at all. Perhaps the shampoo packets were designed to be unwrappable only with a Ginsu PowerKnife, and perhaps the shower could have done with a nozzle, and perhaps we could have done better with a cleaning person who could, you know, *speak* any language at all, but we got what we paid for. We all congregated in Paul Raj Khangure's room, where I took out my digital camcorder and, with Madhu's help began chronicling what will likely be a whole set of blackmailable offenses. People in Khangure's room: John S. Novak, III Bill McCarthy Leah L. Cole Maggie Brazeau David Scotton Anne Willick David Rothgery Madhu Natarajan (Sp?) Ken Gerrard Kenneth G. Cavness Roy Paul Raj Khangure Pam Korda Michael Kozlowski Pat O'Connell Steve Ginter Tina and Skwid Later, Amy Yost/Cassandra and Her Boyfriend, Jeff I've likely left someone out, so it's time for you to get all indignant with me. Go ahead. You know you want to. Now, it should be noted that I did not keep the quotes. In fact, I *was* some of the quotes. So I will leave such tellings up to Leah L. Cole and Paul Khangure, as they seemed to be in on the whole deal. And there was much to quote, especially that first day. After much handcuffing, foot-rubbing, general taunting, and much arriving of persons, 6:30 rolled around and we all piled into cars and headed off to St. Elmo's Steakhouse. Now, I like steak. I'm a big fan of the stuff. And have no doubts, I had one of the most sumptuous, delicious filet mignons that I have had the pleasure of consuming since I left the wilds of Texas. But nothing prepared me for the sheer cost of eating 10 ounces of meat. I mean, I half expected a porn-star hustler to pop out of my mignon at those prices... At my table: Annette And John Dilick Maggie Brazeau David Scotton Anne Willick Ken Gerrard Dave Rothgery Kenneth G. Cavness (duh) We ordered much food, had some good wines (including a very sweet Riesling that I really did enjoy). After signing the second mortgages on our home, we headed back to the Days Inn, but not before I demanded (as 2000 was the year where it was All About Kenn) that we drive around the Indiana State Capitol. Lovely building. We chatted deep into the night, until people started peeling off into groups ready for some sleep. I think, between Madhu and Ken Gerrard, who kept me up until the wee hours of the morning trying to make me talk to them, that I managed to fall asleep around 5:00am. We woke up at noon to go to Papas. Now, this isn't your ordinary Greasy Spoon, no sir. It is, in fact, Amazingly and Extremely Digestible. From Corn Pancakes to Cottage Cheese Cheese Blintzes, you can get whatever your heart desires in a menu that comes not so far from resembling _War and Peace_ in thickness. Our food wasn't *Bad*, mind you, in the way that our hotel rooms were not *bad* in that they had four walls and a roof. Our food was, indeed, Amazingly and Extremely Digestible. And I felt every single moment of that digestion take place, later. After that nutritious lunch, we spent the majority of the day in Khangure's room basically doing the same thing we had done before: regaling each other with oddities. At some point, Maggie, Ken, Madhu, and I got into the car to go shopping for new digital cassettes, as we had already used up the hour on the last set. Now, apparently northwestern Indianapolis has decided to place every single computer store, grocery store, and furniture store in the city in one square mile. Trying to navigate our way to Krogers or Best Buy was something like trying to navigate through Roseanne Barr's colon. At around 6:00 again, we all piled into our respective cars and headed off to the Real Celebration: The Loys. Now, Deb and Mark Loy have a gorgeous home. It's full of beautiful things. So, what do I do within five minutes of arriving? I fuck up and smash one of Deb's things to the point where it's not recognizable what it was. Mark Loy, however, was Resourceful, and managed to get out the Shop-Vac and do Things with it that I shudder to describe. All was soon made well, and for about the next half hour I sat very, very still. I'm just not used to having so many breakables around me. And what was all this for? It was so I could put a plastic beaded tiara on and hold _Winter's Heart_ for a picture. We're weird, I tell you. There was much food and much laughter, and much drinking, and a hell of a lot more flirting among everyone than I was prepared for, so I did spend quite a bit of time in my Happy Place. I won't go into the flirting; you people knew who you were trying to make horny, and if you want to make it public, go ahead. For some reason, I took the sobriety route that evening -- I had exactly one glass of alcohol, and that was it. It was the sparkling wine that Deb and Mark Loy provided for us as we watched the ball in New York City drop (a tradition for me that I have followed since I was 14) and commented on the fact that Dick Clark is, indeed, finally aging. I have decided that he made a pact with Satan that he would never age until January 2000. It's the only logical solution. Many other people, however, chose to get decidedly drunk. There were many antics involving spoons, spatulas, and cornstarch. Crossing and uncrossing was passed and accepted. AND I VIDEOTAPED IT ALL. Mouahahahaha! I hope to within the next two weeks or so have at least a montage to show all of you. A medley, as it were. Some of the parts will be music-driven because one of the guests Who Shall Remain Unnamed was *remarkably* bitchy during the night while ey was drunk, and decided that ey did not want to have that bitchiness made known. I really, really, really enjoyed this whole trip. Mark and Deb, it was magical, and as usual you made one hell of a good party go off amazingly well considering the diverse group of people that are us. I hope that nobody else broke anything, that you were finally able to sleep, and that you at least got some help cleaning up that damned mess! To all of you I met: Way cool, Tashenna. Awesome, Leah. Love ya, Alex. Jeff, don't be a stranger. And don't drink so much next time, Roy! -- Kenneth G. Cavness http://stargoat.dynip.com/ (Actual site coming soon!) [1] I am *such* a rebel. So outre.