We never formally appointed anyone to start “the thread” telling y’all bitches about our little excursion and what a great time we had and all the fun stuff you missed out on. Well, we kinda wanted Maz to do it, because he’s so long winded and insightful and really makes for a great storyteller, BUT
A) He won’t be back probably until Tuesday
B) He didn’t seem to want to do it
C) I’m impatient and wanna make my grab for glory. So I’m starting now
SO…
“The Downhill Walk, Eat Feet, And Other Tales”
[RPGCer Spring Break '04]
The Players:
Skankin Garbage
Kero Hazel
Frameskip
Infonick
Charlemagne
El Piano Loco
Mazrim Taim
Cloth Hat
Dragonessa
Mercenary09
and KaiserVonAlmasy as the bishounen
also featuring
One of SG’s other, non RPGC friends
brief cameos by Kero’s roomates
We descended on Los Angeles, coming in from the north like a tribe of indo-europeans sweeping out of the steppes of south central russia 10,000 years ago (as we all know). The five us who comprise the “nor cal contingent” even though two of us were from further north. Fresh off some mini-meetings on tuesday and wednesday wherin I defended my title as San Francisco’s Worst Tour and Restaurant Guide, Nessa, Maz, Merc, and I had our little misadventures getting our public transit on down to San Jose starting at about noon on Thursday.
We arrived at about 3:30 or so in San Jose, and stood around waiting for ClothHat to pick us up, standing at the passenger pick up station. We were pretty much tied down with all the crap we were lugging, but we figured it wouldn’t be too big a hassle, since, after all, he knew we’d be there around 3:30. Until that time, we sorta worked on getting to know each other better. We kinda needed the work.
Funny thing: we really get the impression that we really know each other and really have a feel for each other based on what we type at each other here and in IRC, and stuff. But, you know, really, you get each other face to face and you realize that you really are meeting people for the first time and meeting them all over again from the beginning. Which made for some rather lengthy awkward pauses the first couple nights up in S.F. which, I’m sure, would have been rather comic and hilarious to a TV audience had we been on. So yeah, while we wait for what we expect to be only a few minutes, we continue chipping away at that ice.
Turns out we’d get plenty of time, thanks to a rather long wait (long wait: a recurring theme of the road trip. Nessa and Maz can back me up on this when they get back on and can recount their “lovely” Amtrak experience. [Once again, delayed like a mailbag].
At 4:20 (hahaha) CH rolls up in his car, which I will henceforth call “The Hatmobile”, cuz it sounds cool and, really, his car is itself a unique character and deserves the nickname. He is profusely apologetic about traffic in downtown San Jose leaving him delayed like the proverbial mailbag. We made our little teasing snide comments along the line of “yeah, whatever” and sarcastic "uh huh"s and stuff, cuz you know, real friends tease each other mercilessly. So we load up our gear in the trunk of the Hatmobile…eventually…(we had a lot of stuff and not too much space) and roll out. Nessa calls shotgun. I get stuck in the middle of the back seat, and thus I’m doomed to have a very sore ass for the next six or so hours.
He was spot on about downtown San Jose traffic, too. Nasty shit. But eventually we get onto the highway and roll out down south.
Okay, quick description of The Hatmobile: it’s a four door car from the 80’s [make withheld] with brown interior. Cramped quarters in the back for Maz, Merc, and me. Working the radio on the Hatmobile is contingent upon a procedure in which the doors have to be automatically unlocked, the passenger door opened, the doors relocked, and then the passenger door slammed back shut. ONLY THEN will the radio turn on, clearly a security measure lest mainstream radio music fare fall into the wrong ears. 
It also has an Air Conditioner/Heater switch, 2/3 of which works. Meaning at all times either the Air Conditioner or Heater is on. “Off” does not work. So it was a challenge to maintain the balancing act on the way down, flipping the toggle back and forth, while we alternately freeze and roast for brief stretches (though the “roast” bit always seemed to be longer and less comfortable).
Final note about the hatmobile, which I didn’t notice until the return trip: his liscene plate includes the letters “ACK” in that order.
Alright, the trip down, well, it was long. Down Interstate 5 most of the way. To pass the time, we listen to the radio, make fun of road signs and turn small I-5 California towns into running jokes (Lebec, Firebaugh, et al), and play “Call Box” which is just like “Bug Slug” only with the call boxes along the highway’s shoulders. It’s actually more fun when I lose, cuz then I do the shaking my fist thing at the winners. Early on, CH advises us that, when all other icebreakers fail, that falling back on discussions of video games and RPGC itself always worked to stimulate conversation last time. And sho’ nuff, it would work again. As you shall see.
I realize early on in the trip I neglected to bring my tape recorder, which means no audio preservation format. An error that will haunt me for the rest of my life, cuz there were some real gems. Y’all were robbed by not bein’ here. Really.
It takes us about six and a half hours to get there, factoring in one stop for gas and one stop for food at Jack in the Box (which rocks). After finally finding parking, at about a 15 minute walk (or did it just feel that damn long cuz we were tired and my ass still hurt?) from the parking spot to Kero’s apartment complex, we gather our gear and begin the final leg of the trip, walking down the avenue to Kero’s apartment.
We roll in, and the par-tay is well underway. Kero is there, makes sure everyone introduces themselves by both “handle” and real name. Which was, well, what’s the word, electric, in a way. That was the big moment, where we all kinda unmasked, or decloaked, or whatever you wanna call it. And we all began to find out what the sources of these words on our screens really look, sound, and act like.
[Side Note: Kero is a really cool and nice guy. And an excellent host. Much better guide for his part of L.A. than I was for S.F. :D]
The Gamecube is on, the champagne is busted open (and Kero shoots a good deal of it on his rug and somebody else’s stuff. Oops!), Charlemagne is circling the premisis with his digital camera, and Kero’s roomates quickly say their polite hellos and retreat into their rooms and/or the L.A. nightlife.
Charlemagne, Skankin Garbage, and Infonick have been there for a while, they rolled in at about 9:30 or so. I guess we missed a DDR session, and the combination of DDR playing and a little champagne has led to a dangerously drunk Infonick. How dangerous? Well?
A) he put a military chokehold on CH for a while
2) Flailing and jumping around, he kicked me in the head
D) and most dangerous of all, he gave new life to the YOUR MOM joke. I know it seems played out in text form around here, but, trust me, hearing it live, over and over again, sneaking up on you like a ninja assassin of a punchline even after conversational exchanges that you thought were safe but turned out to be more comedic setups, it was rather hilarious. We kept kinda egging him on, and one of us, I forget who, came up with the brilliant idea of letting him post in that state. This board still bears the fruits of that. 
About half of Charle’s billion photos are of drunk Infonick, I think. I got a few shots of him too with my crappy disposable camera. The highlights of that collection will make their way here, too, when I get the roll back.
Live and in retrospect, when we went to read his contributions, we laughed long and hard. I mean, literally laughing 'till it hurt. I laughed myself off my feet at one point, which cracked others up even worse. You know that old expression about “you’re gonna die laughing?” I know it’s possible now. Because I mean, you CAN laugh hard enough to have cardiac arrest. Cuz I almost got there, and it looked like others were getting there, too. I had to step out onto the balcony and get some fresh air.
You’ve seen some of the pictures already. Playing with the cup and ball like a cat with a ball of string? Yep, that’s REAL. No Charle photoshop job. Really happened. Those posts? Yep. That’s really what it was like. Overdoing the your mother joke. Constant your mother joke. EVERYTHING set up the your mother joke.
And when we went back and read them the next day
Played games [007 Nightfire, mostly… SG is the best at it, CH pretty good too, I suck 31 flavors of ass at it, everyone else is somewhere in between), watched movies, played “Bullshit.” Nessa won. Jamie was the most into it. Ice is pretty much fully broken in general at this point. Unlike the submeeting in S.F., down here there was a lot more people, so we could all really move around and mingle which made it easier to knock down the walls and start cutting lose. Also, we had SG. Who’s like a human icebreaker.
Up partyin’ till 4. I’m up before 7, because, like a fool, my crash-spot was right by the exit to the balcony, so I caught a full glass door’s worth of bright sunny morning sky flush in the face after the sun came up. Good luck sleeping through that.
END PART 1:
still to come:
Friday and Saturday, and the return trip home. Frameskip joins the festivities, Kero leads us on a tour of L.A., and the Hatmobile faces peril. Eat Feet, the downhill walk, Parallel existance man, the attack of the bike cops. Watching Mystery Men and all of us taking turns talking like The Sphinx, the world’s dirtiest beach, hackey sack, and everybody co-opts SG’s slang.
also still to come:
the rest of the partygoers adding what I’m leaving out, and probably trying to hijack my narrative cuz they think/know they can do better.
I live ont he east Coast. In fact, I live within 45 minutes of X2K and XcountryGuy. I should stop in sometime…