Going Polar?


Friday, January 30, 2004

Uncontrollable Urges

After playing tournament sixteen weekends in a row, I had resolved to save time and money by skipping two weeks and instead studying more heavily for Danbury. I was satisfied that my Atlantic City performance had put me close enough to 1500 that I'd be able to cross the line in Danbury if I didn't start slumping again.

I was able to make it through most of the week with only occasional glances at Travelocity and SmarterLiving. But as Friday dragged on, I began to grow anxious. I checked the websites more often, planning possible itineraries. I posted a message to CGP expressing my intensifying itch to continue my streak. I received a few replies encouraging me to take it easy. I managed to hold out past my window of opportunity for the 5:55 flight to Orange County, but as the window to make the 8:00 PM flight to LAX closed, I totally lost it. Even without hearing back from the director Gary Moss about whether I'd still be able to register, I took on faith that he'd be accepting last-minute entires, and I gave in to the urge and booked the flight. I was committed. $350 down the drain, if I didn't gain rating, cuz the prize money sure wasn't going to compare to what I spent.

The race was then on to make it to the airport on time. Once more without a laptop, I had to print out a list of addresses and phone numbers of the Starbucks I needed to visit. There was no time for maps. I had to take my Kinko's directory to get online.

I made my decision just past 4:00 PM. By 4:14 I had my ticket. By 4:30 I had left work, and after a delay gassing up (stupid NJ laws), I was home at 5:00, and on the way to the airport by 5:24. Delays on I-95 around the NJ border had me worried that I wouldn't make it in time, and I sure enough didn't make it by 6:00 or 6:30, but the trip smoothed out, and by 7:00 I was at the gate.

In my rush it was inevitable that I would forget to pack something. On the shuttle to the terminal I remembered the first thing, my bottle of acetaminophen. As much coffee as I'd be drinking on Saturday, I knew I would need it.

During the drive to the airport, and during my wait to board the plane, I had time to wonder whether my sudden decision represented the impending return of a hypomanic cycle. It had been around seven years since my moods had stabilized, and I had been hoping that my condition had been due to work-related anxiety. If some degree of mania was returning, it wouldn't necessarily be the worst thing the world, because I might accomplish more as long as it lasted. But the low that potentially followed could be disastrous. Lacking medical insurance, and with the recovery of the economy still uncertain, a period of depression could wreck me financially.

I remembered I needed food! No time for anything fancy, just a hot dog and fries. Oh, crap, something else I forgot, my toothbrush. So much for being able to pack on a dime. No time even to finish my food properly. The plane had arrived and the crew wanted to board early! Who ever heard of such a thing? I had to wolf down what I had and get on board as the flight attendant glared at me.

The cute girl who had been on standby had been assigned a seat next to me. What luck! But oh, no, she moved. Aw, nuts. And it didn't look like Schmoopie was going to meet me during my layover in Chicago--it was just too far for her to drive for such a short meeting.

Shortly after boarding the plane I remembered something else I had forgotten--my map of the LA area. I had packed it in my duffel bag, when I should have brought it on board so I could get a head start in locating the Starbucks I needed to visit and planning my route. I guess it didn't really matter, because the flight was jolty, and I got a headache right away, and with no pain relievers. I wouldn't have been able to concentrate on a map anyway.

There was no meal service, but by chance there were bistro meals left over from the previous flight. I got Ruffles! Ruffles have ridges! Ruffles rhymes with truffles, which, according to a report on NPR, were becoming more expensive. Those poor French chefs! Also in the bag, a triple-chocolate brownie. Brand name: "Love and quiches"--how cute. I don't go for mustard, but I was amused by the name on the package--Hellman's Dijonnaise. Yes, I was taking waaay too much interest in my bistro meal, but I just couldn't concentrate on words between the bumpy flight and the headache. So instead my mind wandered. Mustard. Mustardbating, using mustard instead of lotion. Would it hurt? A pleasure and pain kind of deal, or just pain? I bet somebody on the Internet knows. Rounding out the bag was a Perdue turkey sandwich, and Bunny-Luv baby carrots, peeled. How do you peel a carrot?

I remember one more thing I had forgotten, that I hadn't done laundry in a couple of weeks. My jeans were already ripe, and who knew what they would be like after two more days of running around. They were likely to come alive!

On the approach into O'Hare, I marveled at how straight the streets are in Chicagoland. In sharp contrast to cities like, say, Boston. The major exception is, of course, the streets that radiate at an angle from the center of the city--Clark, Lincoln, and Milwaukee, for example. These result in 6-way intersections that drive me nuts whenever I need to make a left turn. But that's minor--navigating in Chicagoland is easy!

I turned my phone on inside the O'Hare terminal and received a message from Gary assuring me I could play. I was pretty sure I could anyway, but it was still a relief, that I had not wasted the trip.

The weather had been bitterly cold in the northeast, and it was reported to be colder still, near zero degrees, I think, in Chicago. I had this crazy idea that I'd go outside, take my shirt off, and wait sixty seconds to see how it felt. I went outside. I thought about it a moment and decided it was a stupid idea and went back inside. As I suspected, my having unnecessarily left the secure area garnered me more scrutiny when I passed through security again. Anything unusual, that's what they are looking for--that and guys that look like me.

While waiting to board the flight to LAX I was treated to one of those examples of why you should avoid O'Hare if at all possible. It took me a while to figure out what was going on, during which time I was worried that the problem was with our flight. But I was okay. Apparently the pilots of a flight to Orange County had been delayed on the ground so long that they had exceeded their limit, which includes time on the tarmac. Accordingly, the flight was canceled and combined with our flight to LAX. But the luggage could not be unloaded until morning, for some reason I didn't quite understand, and so the passengers had the option of staying in Chicago or retrieving their luggage the next day. I was just glad the problem wasn't with my flight, but it kind of was, because the plane ended up being packed! Instead of a cute girl, I was seated next to some foul-mouthed malcontent (no, not Marlon) buring in headphones who kept cursing away about something. I was worried this guy was going to be a problem, but thankfully he moved over and shut up.

SNAFU was definitely the order of the day--I heard some poor guy behind me say that he had flown through O'Hare four times in recent weeks and had problems each time. Next to me a harmless-looking guy was wondering out loud if ground transportation at LAX would really get them to OC. I offered him a ride, hoping to get a place to crash for the night. He look uncomfortable. I probably creeped him out.

Despite the crowded flight, I managed to get some sleep, enough that when I awoke I was able to get some studying done--this would prove important.

I was quite relieved to finally reach LAX and retrieve my luggage, but Hertz wouldn't answer when I tried to call for a shuttle. I took a chance and boarded one of the yellow polka-dotted vans, and the driver was cool and took me over to the Hertz lot, though he couldn't actually drive onto the property. Finally I got out to the 405, every Los Angelino's favorite freeway! It didn't take but two minutes for a car to pass me doing at least 90 MPH. Needless to say, I followed, and as I sped down that freeway I felt a sense of freedom and gratitude that I was able to just pick up and go like that. Mostly though, I felt fatigure, because I had gained (is that right?) three hours and it was already 4:30 on the east coast!!!

Sixty-six miles later, in less than one hour, I reached the new Starbucks in San Clemente and camped out at the Wal-Mart Supercenter for a few hours before beginning a Starbucking marathon.



Sunday, February 1

I should have slept more, but with all the caffeine cursing through my system I couldn't help but get up at the crack of dawn to visit as many new Starbucks as I could before arriving in Newport Beach just in time for the tournament. I didn't see Ira Cohen, and I'd heard that he often arrived just before the start of the tournament, so I figured I wasn't the last one.

A couple of familiar faces were present, though, Gary Moss himself, Bruce D'Ambrosio, and Yukiko Loritz, all of whom I had met the previous year during a visit to Yuki's club.

Actually, Ira had already arrived and had just stepped out, so I was the last one. It's a good thing I arrived when I did, because there were only 12 of us, and Gary was thinking of having one big division. I quickly asked what the bottom rating was. Sub-1000!!! No way, man, and I voiced my disapproval. We took a vote, and two divisions was the clear favorite.

Gary Moss opened with RENEWAL, and I rolled my eyes and thought, here we go, but a couple of turns later I came back with a 98-point double-double DARKNESS to take the lead. I could have blown it with the phony TOUPE*, a spelling mistake, but he let it go. From that point on, the tiles just fell my way, and I picked up a solid 79-point victory to start my quest for 1500.

Just as quickly as the tiles had fallen my way against Gary, they favored Yukiko instead of me, and went down.

Next up was the big dog (woof, woof), Ira Cohen. Just the fact that he was in the field gave me hope for a big ratings boost if I could win some games. Beating Yuki would have helped, because I sure wasn't expecting to beat Ira. And boy, I sure didn't. He was throwing all sorts of freaky words down on the board, SOLATIA, GYRENE, SPEARMAN, ZEROTH, and I felt completely outplayed. But oh, well, it's not like I wasn't expecting it.

Lunch was a rushed affair--after a quick (and mediocre) spaghetti from Antonucci's Italiano , I planned to sneak another couple of Starbucks in before having to resume play. But some event caused a closure along the PCH, and I lost so much time detouring that it became apparent I wouldn't make it, and I had to abort. I couldn't resist stopping at a new store just minutes from resort, and I made it back to find my clock started.

It was okay, though, because Bruce D'Ambrosio slipped up early on by trying to hook an S to my AEONIaN and lost a turn. I was particularly proud of that challenge because on the plane from Jersey I had been reviewing my list of high-probability sevens using Bob's Bible and making note of those that didn't take an S. Yes! Making every minute count! Bruce wasn't about to give up though--four turns later he bingoed again, but thankfully I had scored enough to maintain my lead. Then a couple of turns later he bingoed yet again, but my PEDERAST put me nearly out of reach, and then, to my great relief, given how hard Bruce was fighting me, we ran out of tiles.

I learned a lesson early against Susie Page, that VOTIVE does not take an S. Thankfully, CRUSTIER got me in the game, TIpTOED got me back in the game after my racks started to fizzle, and then SHUtTING nailed shut Susie's coffee to give me a 116-point victory. Not bad considering I stumbled out of the gate and then stood on shaky ground for most of the game.

After five games in our six-player field, it was time for repairings. Yukiko was in second place, and I assumed she would play Ira, in first, but Gary paired it a different way, and I got Ira. This was, of course, to my benefit, in terms of rating, but I had to win. And opening with AAIIIIE, it sure looked like it was going the way of my previous game against Ira. But an exchange yielded STAGNANT, and solid scoring, 32, 22, 30, 35, 35, and 23 kept me competitive despite my failure to capitalize on Ira's mistake. He had played DERRING*, which I challenged off. At my level, I would have let it go, but thankfully it had come up in a game during the previous year's Ardencup. But I didn't see that he could play GIRDERs and failed to block. So it was critical that I scored as well as I did, as Ira was managing to find plenty of points of his own to nip at my heels. Then I stumbled into OUTEARN with very few tiles remaining, and as good as Ira was, scoring 30 and then 42, there just wasn't enough ammunition left in the bag. And blam, I had my first victory against an 1800+ player!!! 1863, published, to be sure, but later I learned he had actually lost some points in a recent tournament. Still, I beat Ira Cohen! Hot damn!!

My win earned me the right to play Ira again, and it was just too much to hope for to have beating him twice in a row. Midway through, though, I took a modest lead with DIGESTER and began to have some hope. But Ira completely blew me away with an amazing play, SPUTTeRER through the S and E. Wow! A nine through two disconnected tiles! And far apart, even. I had read about Matt Graham's doing this in Word Freak and wondered how anybody could see such a play. Well, there it was, right before my eyes. No doubt about it, Ira deserved to win that game. I felt no shame for my loss.

Having played Ira 3 times, I left quite pleased with my 4-3 record. I left quickly not out of displeasure, but to continue my Starbucking marathon. Given that I had spent good money on airfare, it made sense to visit as many stores as possible, until my eyes bled if necessary.



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