How Not to Be a Guest of Honor
So the good folks of Tacticon were kind enough to have me down for the weekend as their guest of honor. I get to show up, run some playtests of the DCC RPG and hang out with awesome folks. H is away in Cali for a friend's wedding, so hanging out in Denver and playing RPGs is pretty good deal all things being equal.
Of course, all things aren't equal.
As I was trying to make it out of the house this morning (water the tomatoes, pack the gaming materials, get the contract off to Joseph, make sure the wife knows I love her) somehow I forgot the duffel containing all those non-gaming essentials: clothes, deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste. But I didn't realize that until around 9:30 PM after dropping H off at the airport.
Damn. Suddenly I'm 8 hours away from becoming the stereotype of The Gamer.
I don't know south Denver, so I struck out blindly, pointing the car towards the brightest strip of lights, knowing full well that any real store was certainly closed. But there, what should I behold, but Wal-Mart.
Reviled Wal-Mart, how many times have I mocked thee? And now I am at your 24-hour mercy.
Thirty minutes later I was outfitted with new underwear, socks, toiletries, a pair of jeans, 2 shirts and a 12 pack of gatoraide. A brother was ready to roll.
But what about my hypocrisy? I'm indebted to Sam Walton and his family. Otherwise I'd be hand washing a dress shirt with the free shampoo they leave in your room, hoping that if it drip dried over the course of the night, I might be able iron it into semi-dryness by my first game at 9:am.
So yes, you've won this round, Sam. How we will reconcile this debt remains to be seen. Until then, thanks for the toothpaste.