DemocracyFest Reflections, Part One (Friday)

Written by: Edward Lachowicz on Jun 11, 2007 6:48 PM EDT

For the most part, I am going to leave reflections on the trainings and other such goings-on to others who had a more vested interest in such things. Why I went was for the people. The training was excellent, but I went for my friends!

First things first: There were a lot of people from the first year who didn't make it to this one. I missed seeing a lot of them, and know some still come here. Puddle, you'd be the first that comes to mind, just based on seeing your post from last night. Know that you were missed by many at the event, and so were many other old faces.

I'll do my best to keep my reflections in chronological order. Also, I am terrible with names. So if I identify you, but don't remember your name, I apologize! I also have a tendency to remember someone's blog name, but not their real one. Or if you are Jessica's mom, well, that's how I know you. You're Jessica's Mom. Nuff said.

Flip for more... and be ready for laughs. I spin a fine tale...

*** 

The "Infamous Campfire Incident" and its apparent place in DemFest lore

This would be the first thing that got me laughing. I'd just gotten to Bedford, checked in, dropped off my stuff in my room. I came down to the lounge and saw Jessica chatting it up with a few people, and stood there waiting for my hug (rest assured, I didn't wait long). So I asked where my nametag was, and away I went to the registration table, where I met Liane. She gets my name, and I'm filling out my tag... and that's when the question comes:

Weren't you part of the Infamous Campfire Incident?

Now keep in mind... that was at DeanFest, kay? DemFest 1. 3 years ago. If anyone wants to know just what that incident was all about, you can ask. I'll fill in as best I can, but Jessica adds in stuff I forgot about. But yes. I am indeed part of the coolest event from DeanFest.

NOTE: If you were the 4th guy at that incident, you should totally identify yourself. Neither Jess nor I has any idea who you are... I forgot you were even there. David, any idea? All I know about our fourth guest is he can make a one-hitter out of a baby carrot... and that makes him really fucking talented.

And, as always...

David A. Stevenson. One of the coolest guys I know. Also one of the tallest guys I know. Asked a couple people in the lounge if they'd seen him. Well, I mean, how could you miss him? was the response I got... from three different people. You've gotta admit they have a point. I think he's as big as two of me. His forehead is in a different level of the atmosphere. Check it out sometime, if he leans down on a chilly New England summer morning, you can see frost on his forehead.

He's just that awesome. He also holds the designation of probably being the first person to call Ned Lamont "America's Senator". And considering the spine Ned helped the Democratic Party grow, I think David's right.

So yeah. I finally find David, who somehow manages to be hiding in a corner. He introduces me to Sal, who I had booked a second bed for in case he needed it (he didn't, no one else did either, am I the only one who needs to share someone's floor when I come to these?). Sal has some good qualities, and some bad qualities.

Good qualities: staunch Democrat.  Great sense of humor. Can fit into an air duct if we were to ever need to pull a Watergate. Comfortable in his sexuality (more on that later). Probably made me laugh more than anyone else.

Bad qualities: Mets fan. Answers rhetorical questions.

So that's David and Sal. David and I reminisce for a while, Sal reintroduces himself to his bottle.

I see Charlie Grapski. We spend more time together later; he's definitely someone I came to DemFest to see. But for the time being, I see him, shake his hand, give him a hug... and the first words out of my mouth: So! How was jail? And he is completely flabbergasted, judging by the fact his response was to blink and say ...good?

And I move on, back to Jessica's spot, where some interesting conversations take place...

DemocracyFest virginity

Apparently I am the only one who hasn't slept with someone at DemFest. Or so people led me to believe. I think they lie; I mean, just look at Sal.  But anyway! I engage in shameless flirting with an amazingly beautiful woman named Vic (NOT Vicki, she hates that). Apparently I was supposed to know who she was, I didn't. Normally I'm very reserved, and I am a very recently and happily taken guy (at least, so the girl tells me). But when liquor and ladies are in front of me at the same time, well, I act like a guy. Vic apparently owns last year's Infamous Incident which involved a split open head and police. Lots of police.

Vic goes on and on (and on) about Thankful's shoes, because Vic loves shoes and Thankful has the coolest ones in the place. Some sort of tortoiseshell deal that make her Really Freakin' Tall. Vic wants to buy the shoes. Thankful will not sell the shoes. Catfight ensues, video is taken. Video is returned to Thankful and Vic for the low price of $500. (Okay, that last part isn't true, but wouldn't it be cool if it was?)

Vic: I am sober now, and still say that you had the sexiest feet in the whole place. 

Next is Tea Time Tim.  He tells me I am the first person to ever call him "T-Trip". If this is true, I would like to state my disappointment with every single one of you. That is the most obvious nickname ever. He reminds me of a friend from Maine, and that's a good thing. Accent, ethnicity, attitude, stories... all the same. He seems rather proud of the one involving him urinating in a police car when he was younger. As he is proud of it, I'm proud to include it in this blog post. (For another $500, I'll be happy to edit it out.) He is the one who informs me that I am the only DemocracyFest virgin... and does so at every possible opportunity. I think this is because I piss and moan about that fact more loudly after every drink. Why is beyond me.

And the final cast member... Steph. She Who Carries Booze. She has the biggest, most monstrous behemoth of a camera in the whole place... and she is not afraid to use it. Without reading the manual. But the most important thing at the moment is the fact that She Carries Booze. And the bar's closing. So away we go, chasing after the wine bottle. 

Tally for the evening so far: two Planter's Punches, three Whiskey Sours, two Twisted Teas, a Bass Ale, and what was left of someone's Jack and Coke (thanks, whoever you are!) Vic is dead to the world, Jessica escorts her to her room. Someone gets a bill for $50 in drinks. We still don't know who. Probably courtesy of the Wayfarer Inn. Thanks, guys! You are too generous.

The Porcelain God is a vengeful God indeed

It's now about 1 AM. The party moves on to room 234. Or so we planned. We get halfway there, and see the door to the pool. On the door: "Pool closes at 8 PM." Yeah, right. If you're going to put a sign like that on the door, you should also consider locking the door, or stupid drunk people decide that the pool is a good place to hang out and do so!

I'm still left asking, though: If we went to hang out by the side of a pool, why didn't we swim in it?

Enter Green VTster and... Arshad? You mean the trainers party too?! Truth be told, he was a good boy. Much smarter than the rest of us, methinks. And The VTster is a pretty chill guy, but he's sort of like his namesake: he doesn't say much, and hangs way out in left field. But with a name like that, that means he's a Sox fan. So he's immediately 128% cooler than Sal.

I never drink red wine. Never liked the smell, the taste, anything about it. I guess it's a good thing, because I am also apparently allergic to it. To this point, I had been very cheerfully drunk, having a wonderful time. I drank about two to four ounces of that wine, because, well, it was there... and that is where my night pretty much ended. The floor in the locker room was so cold... so refreshing. And my stomach is apparently very selective, because it liked the liquor so much it didn't want to give it up. It just gave up the wine.

An hour and a half later, I wake back up, get sick again, no more wine to deal with now. So I pull myself to my feet and stumble (and boy do I mean stumble) my way out to the pool room, where everyone is gone. I had been carrying Vic's and Jessica's smokes, since they forgot them. They too were gone, as was my program book. Never did find out what happened to any of that stuff. Oh well... smoke 'em if y'got 'em. The crew from the hotel had apparently found out everyone was disobeying The Great Door Sign of Doom, and they gave them the old heave-ho.

Now this hotel was like a big octopus. It extended every which way. Most places you think of have many, many floors... this place has many, many wings. And I am on one far end of the building... and need to get to the other end, and I can barely walk a straight line. Somehow, about 15 minutes later, I make my triumphant return to my room... where I turn down a corner of the covers of the bed, fall down upon it instead, and pass out cold with 75% of my pants still on.

And so ended Friday night at DemFest. More on the hotel, the workshops, and the amazing people when I get around to writing it. As you can imagine... this one took me a while!

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