April 13, 2004
After we returned from San Francisco last weekend (long story-> short: dance team went to the SF Open), we were eating dinner and speculating about plans that night. Long Tall Glasses was that night, but we’d heard rumors that it had been canceled or postponed.
<digression>How is it possible that we heard rumors of this while we were in San Francisco. It was obviously one of us that had known such things and had told the others. Clearly, no new information about LTG was obtained in San Francisco. Yet we still had heard only “rumors,” thus lending to my theory of rumor osmosis and the pervasiveness of party information. Even when in another geographical region, we picked up on the changes. But that’s for another time.</digression>
Looking around the dining hall in that way that you look around a classroom when asked a question to which you do not know the answer, as though your surroundings would somehow yield up that information, I noticed Mugler and Cole sitting a few tables down, and so walked over to see what they knew.
Upon hearing my question, Cole responded with shock and incredulity: “Don’t you check your email?” I explained that I had been out of town, and that I hadn’t even gone back to my room yet, and he capitulated. The party had indeed been postponed.
Walking back to our table, I stopped to consider the weight of the insult he had heaved at me. “Don’t you check your email?” is maximally insulting to a Mudder on two levels, as it at once implies a lack of social connectedness and a lack of technological aptitude. I had just finished explaining both the party news and my considerations of the implications of the insult when Matt arrived back from getting seconds or something. He asked me if I knew anything about LTG and, summoning forth all the petulance I could muster, I replied: sigh “Don’t you check your email?”
He hit me.
In the head.