Sunday night

When I’m away at a tournament, I expect to write something every day about the game, the city, the food, the entire experience.

Some days, though, the words just don’t come well.  Today started slow and tapered off.  The kind of day when I’m in the shower, realize I don’t have my new can of shave cream, so I get out of the shower, notice my new toothbrush, get the toothpaste out my travel kit, get back in the shower and realize I still don’t have the shave cream.

We played in the Silver Ribbon Pairs today, a national championship for old folks, except that everyone in the ACBL is an old folk.  It isn’t a really prestigious event, since it starts against the third day of a real championship, the Platinum Pairs and just before the Vanderbilt teams, so none of the really great players are involved.  It’s still important enough that I’d be ecstatic to qualify for the second day and hysterical if we placed.

Which won’t be an issue because our first round was pretty poor and the second round was just a tiny bit above average and that isn’t enough.  Tomorrow we’ll play in a compact KO with friends from home.

Of course there was dinner between sessions, and that wasn’t much to write home about, either.

We went to a place called Iron Cactus, because I thought if you’re in Texas you should eat Tex-Mex.  I suppose the really great places are low-class dives with great food.  This was a fancy joint with bland, touristy food, neither Tex nor Mex.  I tasted like it was planned in the corporate office in Keokuk Iowa.

They also committed what I consider to be the great sin of table service–we were just starting to enjoy, sort of, our first course (I had the tortilla soup, Mike had a salad) and they brought the entrees.

On a less grumpy day perhaps I’d be nicer, but today I just had to ask if we weren’t eating fast enough for the restaurant.  Are they really trying to turn the tables that quickly?  Do they want to get rid of us already?

Tonight, I was not a big tipper.

Capping off a non-perfect day, I wandered up to the ACBL President’s suite, to cadge a glass of Bailey’s and some guacamole and chips.  Except that tonight the suite was reserved for the Patron Members reception, and I have dropped my Patron Membership, so it wouldn’t be right for me to horn in on the goodies.

Instead, I came back to my room, typed up a pouty and cranky blog post, and now I’ll hit the sack and hope tomorrow will be better.

I promise to remember that good bridge or bad, great food or mediocre, I’m still enjoying being at a NABC and living a very privileged existence.  Life is good.


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