What's in Essen?

When we planned our trip to France, we figured one of the cool things about being in Europe is that we're so close to things in Europe. So, when our friend Ted said he was going to have a booth at Essen, Germany, we said "Hey, why don't we pop over and help you out?" Monica has had booths before and we know that you really need at least two people to run a booth. Otherwise, bathroom breaks, lunch breaks, irritating customer breaks, etc. are kinda difficult. Plus, we'd be interested in seeing the new games announced at Essen and playing a few games ourselves. Actually Essen's show, simply called Spiel (Game), is the biggest and best board game, card game, and collectable card game show in the world. It's a monster and we wouldn't have time to see even a tiny fraction of the new games announced at the show.



And so it was that "Essen" crept up on us and we suddenly realized we (ok, Monica) would have to get travel tickets and a hotel room. We actually ended up taking a plane over Essen to Frankfort and then taking a train back to Essen to save money, but we forgot how friggin' expensive German trains are! OK, so we didn't save there, but for the hotel we got a room at the Holiday Inn (normal) as the Holiday Inn Express was actually more expensive! When we later compared with other gamers we found we had the cheapest room and the largest room. HA! We're winning!

OK, so we've arrived in Essen, we've taken the metro and popped up at the stop closest to the Holiday Inn, but where is it exactly? Pulling our luggage behind me, I stick my head in the nearest Quicky-mart. Without a pause, the guy says "Looking for the Holiday Inn Express, right? Keep going down the street, take a right, then the next right, and you'll see it ahead on the left." Got it. We go straight, take a right, and hold on... here's the Holiday Inn right here! Dazed, we walk in and sure enough, they have a reservation for us. Wow, the room is huge! But, let's just drop the bags and head over to Ted's room. He's at the Holiday Inn Express and he just text'ed us saying they are about to start a long-ish game, how much longer are we going to be? Hmm, we need to find the metro route - but the front desk guy should know how to get there. "Holiday Inn Express? It's easy to get to," he says. "Just go down the road, take a right, and it's on your left." Monica and I look at each other - you mean we're within walking distance? Hey, the guy at the Quicky-mart DID give us correct directions, he just assumed we were going to the Holiday Inn Express! Now, why did he assume that? Do we LOOK like Holiday Inn Express people?? Humph!

Walking in to the H.I.*express* we spot Ted and some other guys sitting in the restaurant around a table with some games splayed across it. In fact, now that we look around... EVERY table in the restaurant has at least one game on it. The entire hotel is filled with game players! This is really weird. Introductions are quickly made and immediately some game pieces are pressed into our hands as the first of many games are launched. No games are repeated and the rules come rapid fire, but somehow we manage as dinner and conversation interweave with the games. Luggage space is the only thing keeping people from maxing out their credit cards. Since everyone bought at least a dozen games today, Monica and I realize these guys must have had to made some agonizing decisions about *which* games to play tonight. We'll only have time to play 4-5 games tonight. Unplayed games on your shelf at home is a definite sign of gamer mania. With the exception of us, everyone at the table admitted to having several dozen to several HUNDRED (!) unplayed games at home. And here they were buying more. A lot more!

The next day, Monica and I join Ted at his booth. Ted arranged free admission for us and best of all - we have bright green polo shirts with his company name emblazoned on it waiting for us. Monica can now officially be our booth babe!



However, diagonal from us is some tough competition: Miss Canada. She is the real Miss Canada (wearing her sash and crown even) who happens to be friends with someone in their booth. Jeremy, who is also helping in our booth, doesn't miss any chance to hang out with her even though he has a girlfriend back home. Although we all agree she isn't *all that* I figure this is an irresistable opportunity to make his girlfriend jealous. Just starting his sentences with "So, I was eating lunch with Miss Canada when..." or "Miss Canada asked if I could give her a ride back to the hotel from the show and on the way..." has got to make her turn red in the face. Nevermind what her real name is, it's more effective to just call her "Miss Canada" all the time. Ted decided the thing that threw him is that just talking to her you find that she is really intelligent and really nice and you just can't help liking her even if you didn't want to. Someone like that must violate some law of the universe. One girl wearing a very convincing white elf/enchantress costume came up to her and said "nice costume." "Well thank you, but it's not a costume," she replied, "but your's is very nice!" and even the ice witch was charmed. "Damn, she's good," whispered Ted.

During our breaks we got a chance to wander the halls and just soak in the atmosphere. As we go from one exhibition hall to another we're amazed at just how BIG the show is. It's a good thing our apartment is small and foreign - we're extremely reluctant to buy anything we'll eventually want to bring back to the US. Even though I am the game player, Monica gets more into shopping at these events. It must be the excitement of the crowd and the smell of new merchandise. The fever is contagious. She even started to plan next year's Essen trip!



Ted told us about his visit to Ludo, a giant German manufacturer who dashed off a couple thousand of his games. As he got into describing the massive machines, towering warehouses, and the smell of fresh cut cardboard and ink, we thought we'd need to splash some water on his face! Whoa there!

After a weekend of massive Essen crowds, noise, merchandise, and gaming sessions we were ready to return home. Monica had one last thought though - even though you would expect the crowd to be made up of the geekiest of the geeks - how many people want to travel to otherwise unremarkable Essen to see the new releases in board games - the crowd was mostly made up of families, with lots of women and kids in the mix. I guess the Germans really do love board games.

Merde!

Sometimes nothing seems to go right. Monica's good friend Jen came to visit us (but that's not the part that went wrong) and we all had a great time. One blustery night I was working at my desk, while Jen and Monica worked together to solve complicated knitting problems when the trouble began. I got up to go to the bathroom, and while turning my bike around, I heard a tremendous *crash* from outside, followed by a tinkle-tinkle. "That did not sound good!" I shouted out. What kind of knitting were they up to out there?

I returned to the bedroom-cum-office and had to stop at the threshold. The girls were at the other door by the living room looking at the same thing: the floor was covered in broken glass. Next thing to hit us was the freezing wind blasting through the destroyed storm blinds and double-paned glass. For a moment we all gazed stupified at how our evening had changed course.

Then the bitter chill galvanized us into action. Photos taken, glass hauled in bucket brigades to the garbage bins, a new bed set up in the living room, radiators adjusted, and the bedroom sealed off with books, towels, and other crap. Looking down from our balcony you could see the remains of a scaffold from the construction site across the street that had smashed hard into our wall and tumbled into the awning of the restaurant below and finally into the street, blocking traffic. And the internet went out. I think I've finished office work for today.

OK, next for the phone calls. I found 2 glass places that offered 24/24 hr 7/7 day emergency service. Wow, that doesn't sound very French, I thought we'd have to wait until Friday morning to call. The first place was answered by a woman who thought it was a personal call. Blah, blah... I can't hear over the background noise... "Êtes vous Vitrerie Lyonnais?!" I asked, and the phone was passed from person to person until someone said yes, yes. But, they are closed, please call back tomorrow. OK, that sounds more French. The next place answered and said they could send someone around right away. Tomorrow morning at 10 to measure and then, you know since it is an emergency, they could install the new window on Monday. Looks like all of us were going to spend the next 4 nights sharing our front room listening to the wind hissing around the door frames. Maybe we could even tell ghost stories!

The internet guys arrives first, surprising us early in the morning while the girls are still padding around in their nightclothes. Quickly assessing the situation - two beautiful girls, an exotic beauty from India, the other a gorgeous redhead - he shoots me a look which says "I tip my hat to you, sir!" Our internet situation is not so pretty however and he can't fix it, so I'll be spending the day using the local bookstore's internet.

After measuring our window, the window guy gives us the good news that he can be back tomorrow to replace it, but he can't fix the blinds. The blind guy (well you know what I mean, he can see) quotes us $1300 to replace that. The glass is $400 and the curtains unknown. I'm glad I'm not paying for it!

Just as life is returning to normal, Jen has left, the window is fixed, and we decide to try the restaurant right below us, the next disaster hits. I realize I left my key chain dangling from a USB port. Monica doesn't have hers either... Uh oh. Our landlord told us we had the only 2 keys, but surely... Uh oh, our cellphone has just run out. The restaurant owner lets us use her phone and call our landlord and the building concierge and confirm that really those are the only keys. Locksmith? The other options are to get up to our balcony somehow and re-break the window (at least we know how much that will cost to fix) or get to the small open window of our bathroom which is 40 ft above nothing. I could reach our balcony from the neighbors' and climb over the metal security spikes - if the neighbors were home.

Next, the bathroom approach. Nobody we know has a ladder remotely tall enough to reach it directly, but the window has a ledge only 5ft away from it which you can get to from the landing. It's just the last bit that is certain death. There is a horizontal metal spar from the elevator to the building wall high above the bathroom window... With some rope which we don't have you could throw it over the spar and swing Tarzan-like over to the window, assuming the spar isn't just a stabilizing brace and can support some weight. Otherwise, you're back to that 40 ft fall again. The restauranteur and her husband the cook call locksmiths for us because they can really charge a ransom. Well, for $225 they can be here in half an hour to let us in. Hmmm, it's cheaper than breaking a window...

Two hours later after much banging, sliding, and re-assuring of neighbors, the locksmith and his partner conclude our lock is too resistant to all their tricks and they'll have to drill and replace the lock. That will cost $1300. Aack! No, we're not going to make that decision tonight. We're cold and we need to sleep and regroup. We can call Rita, she's just 2 blocks away, maybe we can crash there, but the cell is out. No wait! There's an automated way to recharge it with a CB card (which we have- it's a Visa/ATM with a smart chip on it). Success! And we call Rita who isn't home... Probably visiting her boyfriend in Aix-les-Bains this weekend. Next, we try Mark, and he says sure come crash at his place, his date with Isabel is just finishing. Oh no! We didn't ruin his date did we? No, he had to leave in a sec anyway if he was going to catch The Last Metro. Ack! The Last Metro! Run!! Hey at least we don't have any change of clothes, toiletries, or other things to slow us down. Puff, puff, stairs down, and wham! Metal rolldown doors have sealed our nearest entrance. Quick! The big entrance! Yeah! It's open! And there's the crowd waiting for The Last Metro. We made it.

At Mark's we talk about the game plan. We could even take the tram to one of the giant building centers at the edge of town and buy a tall ladder - it would be cheaper than replacing the window. We could even return it afterwards. Plus, we could buy stout rope for safety or the tarzan trick. Monica and I think we still won't find a tall enough ladder, but she proposes I use the ladder to climb as high as I can and then climb up the rope the rest of the way. Mark wants to see everything firsthand before committing to a plan and will bring his camera to take pictures. As for sleeping, Mark's place is a Parisian style studio. Very cute, cute being the operative word. There's enough room in there for him and one ant and the ant sleeps in the bathroom. So, um, where are we going to sleep? We all look around, look at each other and well...we're all grown-ups, scratch that, *despite* being grown-ups we just all squeezed into the one bed and fell asleep.

The next day after fresh coffee and croissants we felt more confident and returned to our apartment. Monica suggested we ask the construction foreman for a ladder and Mark used his superb Aussiecized French to get him to give us a super tall extension ladder! Bringing this around to the bathroom window we found that it still left us short. The elevator has a ledge about 4 feet up, what if we put the ladder up there? "Absolutely not!" shouted Monica. But the boys overrule her and, whimpering, she and Mark (who is not whimpering) hold the ladder on the ledge while I scramble up, and reach the top. But I'm at the top and still can't quite reach. Mark calls out "There's no more rungs!" But the sides go up just a little higher than the top rung... The next sound is laughter. Monica and Mark looked up and all they see is a pair of legs sticking out of the window. I'm in!



It actually took a while after that as I hung in the window moving things and taking apart the shelving so I could ooze into the bathroom without causing a lot of damage. Then the celebrations: beer for the foreman and a kiss on the cheek from Monica which made the gruff guy turn shy for a moment, then off to a swishy place to treat Mark to lunch. The place was decorated in hot pink and black with every picture on the wall being an Andy Warhol-ish series of naked butts. Nevermind the buts or the butts... Here's to success! (Clink! Clink! Clink!)

Go (B)lues!!!

Our Christmas trip to England started off with a 5hr. delay of our flight. Not the types to miss an opportunity, we seized another couple and forced them to play Ziegen Kriegen with us to pass the time. As it was a flight to England, it wasn't surprising to find out they spoke English. The hapless couple, Ané and Jeandré from South Africa, hadn't been in Lyon very long (Ané just one month) so they weren't very good at avoiding eye contact with weirdos. This is a skill you MUST develop if you are to ride the buses and metro a lot. Both of them proceeded to clobber us at the game as we chatted and passed the time. Jeandré, it turns out, plays rugby for the Lyon team and on Sunday Ané called us up to ask if we wanted free tickets to see a match with them. You bet!!!

That evening it started raining lightly, but then turned heavier as we got our hot wine, hot chocolate, and hot dogs and settled into our seats. The stadium wasn't huge and all the seats were covered so everyone had close, comfortable seats. Jeandré had an injury so he couldn't play, but that meant we got to sit with both of them - and it was fun being with a star as he shook hands with fans in the crowd.

In one France guide I had read you can always shout out "Allez les bleus!" (Go Blues!) for sporting events. But, what if your team isn't blue? Our team colors were black and red - yet I could hear people shouting what sounded like the traditional French sports chant. Aha! The team name is Les Lous. Very clever! In case you are wondering here are the words to the chant:

Allez les bleus! Allez les bleus!
Allez! Allez! Allez les bleus!!!
(repeat ad nauseum)

Now if you are in Lyon, even after a couple of gallons of hot mulled wine, you can reasonably modify this to fit the local team name. In fact, slurring may help!

Meanwhile, down on the field, the rain continued to fall and you could easily spot the substitutes as they went in from their clean uniforms. I was reminded of when I was back in school on the wrestling team. On rainy days we'd sometimes head to the field and play "rugby." Our version was mostly just an excuse to pound on each other in the mud - we rarely, if ever, passed the ball and nobody ever told us about kicking it. Our games ended when one team no longer had the strength to stop the other team from scoring at will. Something like that was happening down below, as our team gradually began to wear the other team down. Finally we started scoring field goals and then as time went on the score went up quicker and quicker until in the end the score was 34-0. Whoo Hoo! Allez Les Lous!