Well, That’s Done

The new stage production of The Lord of the Rings, which debuted in Toronto this past week, may have not pleased too many of its victims, but our conference was a pretty snazzy success.

Décor, speakers, professionalism, food, wine, keynote, attendance, atmosphere… Everything seemed to be in good place. We had folks come from six different universities, and hosted about 95 people throughout the day. Even the emcee managed not to make an ass of herself.

{A run down of my performance, in case you are interested: The morning welcome was a bit underwhelming as it was early and I was tired (I had been up every hour to check the alarm clock). All I wanted was coffee and smoke, and another hour of sleep. I missed the 12.30pm spiel, as people hurried to the buffet before I got a chance to hit the podium. (Good luck trying to get anywhere quicker than an academic group gets to free food.) There was no way I was gonna yell over all the clanking and line-up chit chat, and it wasn’t like I had to say grace or anything. I went on at 1.30pm, to make the “You’ve had your free food, now git out” speech, and that went very well. (Jokes were well-received, and people were generally attentive.) At 3.15pm I introduced the woman who was set to introduce the keynote, without much mishap. I was then done for the day.}

The keynote was terrific! Personable, intelligent, a great speaker – we did so well to invite him. He spoke on the transparency of homeless people and prostitutes, and the social construction of their position. Wonderful! And his wife, who accompanied him, was soooo impressed by our conference that she complimented us a million times, and was very sweet. It turns out that she is Nova Scoatian, so it makes sense that she was so lovely.

Over all, a magnificent coup for the society. And for myself. Several of my profs saw me in a high-profile position at the conference, as well as deans and other movers and shakers, and I met everyone I could from other religious studies departments (I worked the registration table all day). John did a wonderful job as a chair, and there is talk of asking him to stand for grad president of the society next year. All was flawless. There was a two minute delay getting a mike for the speaker, and the dessert trays were smaller than we ordered, but nothing went wrong that the attendees could notice, and several presenters were eager to come back next year.

The only hiccup came when, after the wine had been consumed and the public had left, several of the exec members of the society were infected with bad cases of cattiness, and started three separate fights over very trivial things. Well, I say they are trivial, but when you are 23, drunk, and tired, they may seem very important.

(Hell, we baby-sat Dr. S.’s 6-month-old at the registration table for two hours, and he was better behaved than these people.)

One little group was accusing another person of saying something inappropriate to some ex-girlfriend. Another group was snarky because a sober person (not me) accused them of being obnoxious, and then the drunk faction just started shouting “F**k going to dinner, let’s just go get tanked,” and throwing things around. Someone invited to the after-party as a matter of etiquette ended up inviting five more people without permission, and there was immense tension over the reservation and the society budget. The UN was almost called in to negotiate who was to eat on the society's tab.

Of course, there were also side squabbles. Half the group was angry over who won the “Best Graduate Student Presentation.” A whole whack of people were blaming other people for doing too much themselves and being bossy (Christ, it is fourth grade all over again). There was bitterness over who had gotten thanked in the wrap-up speech without cause. There was some damage, somewhere, to something, and some people were angry at other people for causing it.

You know, the general Fisher-Price playground arguments that result in sniffles, dramatics and some baby screaming about packing up her toys and going home.

A very good reason why PhD students in their late twenties cannot enjoy sustained interaction with people in their second (or just plain extended) adolescence.

Anyway, due to a fog of exhaustion, a total lack of alcohol in my bloodstream, and an almost intolerable annoyance level in reference to my pissy and childish co-execs, John and I decided to forgo the celebration dinner afterwards, and come home. It was a great decision! We came home, ate our own food in peace and quiet, watched two Chaplin pics, and went to bed for some well deserved sleep.

It beats hanging around with a bunch of cranky children.

It was a wonderful day, so I am glad that I didn’t stay long enough for them to completely ruin it. For all I know they are somewhere right now, still at it. Perhaps someone tore the head of someone else’s Barbie. It is amazing how a group of people who could pull off such a wonderful academic event could turn so pathetic when presented with four or five glasses of wine at an open bar.

They may be having a wrap-up meeting next week, but I think I shall skip. I believe I am done with the RCS for this year. Maybe next year, too.

As it is, I have enough to keep me busy for the next couple of weeks, and frankly I am starting to become a little concerned about my survival. Oh well, head down and shoulders to the burden. Mark things as swiftly as possible so I can get on to other things- this is the order of the day.

And prepare for the remaining five hours of public speaking I have left to due between now and April 3rd.

Yay.

(Or maybe I’ll just help Clubby the Seal fight back, on the first day of the contentious seal hunt season. Oh, if only seals in reality could club a few humans and make off with some pelts in fair play! But then we’d have to toss red paint on them, too, and it would turn into another vicious circle.)