Woah.
So, NYJ was awesome for me, I am going to do a, likely, obscenely long write up. I know that people enjoy reading long posts sometimes, so perhaps a couple people will enjoy this. My airport experience will be in red, so that people who get bored can easily skip it.
A couple months in advance: I read "Dec 28-30th"...
A couple weeks in advance: Book tickets for 28th to 30th..
Couple days in advance: Talk to Peng and realize I fucked up.
Anyway, so starting at the airport, at roughly 9:00 am or so, on the 28th.
I get there, backpack pillow and clothing bag in hand completely nervous for this event. I had a few things in mind, one was how my ankle would do, as I was extremely worried I would screw it up by playing to hard. I was also worried about the airport at Christmas time, how it could be way to busy, and how there would be a chance of flight delays. Somewhat confidently I said goodbye to my father at the drop-off point and I ambled inside to find the United Airlines terminal. Lucky me, being really early for my 11:00 whatever flight, I walk up to an empty desk and get my boarding pass. The lady mumbles and mentions that there will be a snow storm in Chicago and that a couple flights have been cancelled already.
Smack in the face, considering I felt crappy about not booking my ticket times for more days in Chicago.
So, I get through security wondering if my lead filled footbags will be considered poison or not, have some problems with them giving my bag the wrong destination tag (it took a while to convince the lady I wasn't going to Oregon...) and then I magically realized that my cell phone was in my luggage, not carry-on. Fuck. So here I am, mid-airport with no way to phone any of the CIC crew or my father in case my flight was cancelled or delayed. Joy. I got to the gate, and then saw that the flight listed on the little board was to Texas, not Illinois. This was comforting, as I knew that my flight may have been cancelled, and then I begin my trek to the customer service counter, which had roughly 6 people in front of each person. Oh, by 6 people I meant 20375.
I find the correct gate, and to my dispair I see a delay until 5:00. It was like, 11 in the morning by now. I get on modified after paying way to much money to use the internet, and hope to god someone in Chicago checks the NYJ thread. I try to phone Zeke and Zac Miley because I wrote their cell phone numbers down, and zeke's phone only rang to the answering machine. In all my troubles, I phone Zac to hear "I am Zac" on his phone. Thank god, finally a human being in Chicago. I start to say who I am, and then notice there is no response. What the shit. So I say hello a few times only to notice that his answering machine answers after about the first ring and doens't bother to tell you the automated message part.
Fucking Peachy.
So, I juggled and did a couple footbag moves as I did not want to get sweaty for the flight, and people watched. Jorden reminded me of my long lost pasttime of people watching, which is slightly creepy but intense in the same way. You can learn a bit from people-watching, or just let your mind wander and entertain yourself.
I get on the plane, in short shorts and a tight t-shirt and laugh to myself, watching all the people in digust confusion and sheepishness as they don't understand someone slightly glossy from sweat in snow-storm weather. I couldn't tell you what I did on the plane really, I am aware of the fact that I watched some footbag videos and sat in the same position for an hour or two, but how the time went so quickly is a mystery.
Chicago. Boom. Worst plane landing ever. I almost think the wing could have be-headed a small marsuipial as it flopped around the runway in a frenzy, only for me to see that there was only 1 inch of snow on the ground. 1 god damn inch, that delayed me several hours. Moses. I get my luggage, and get excited for the tournament ahead of me. I played some footbag waiting for my airport shuttle, because I knew I was far to late for any CIC guys to pick me up,and I didn't want to be a dick about making them get me anyway. After a ride in Chicago, which was extremely busy, I was impressed. chicago seems like what a city should be. I have been to many cities, namely New York for the style I am describing, and finally Chicago had fit the bill.
So, I get to the hotel. I know the event site closes at whatever time, and I knew we couldn't get in late. This was antsy. I go the the front desk, and am re-directed to some other place in this hotel which takes up 4 city blocks. TO my rescue, I see a group of footbaggers with none-other than Steve Goldberg himself. We take an elevator ride and walk a couple hundred meters to the place where we played footbag, which had carpet that reminded me of the worlds carpet. I got in a couple circles, where I sorta just flopped around. I didn't like the way I was playing at all, no creativity, no pop, not style. Just, crap. It seems like a dream, but I think I played with Josh Raye, but I didn't see him for the rest of the tournament. I am 99% sure I saw him, because I remember his clima's and food processor very distinctly, but it could have been a dream from that night. Eerie.
This is also when I noticed that Zac Miley was alot better than I remembered. Go zac.
The first time you see David Clavens at a tournament is always confusing, because in the elevator ride up to the site, you are bewildered with everyone and don't know what to say, and just try not to fuck anything up. You don't want to just go to Dave because he is the only one you know and start conversation, because you don't want to leave anyone out. Then you just sit dumbly with your winter coat and short-shorts and stare at the elevator doors for a while, and then have him say "Hey Jay", in a delayed way. Then you remember that Dave, like all other footbaggers is human and awesome at that, and remember why you paid ~500 for the tournament in all of about 2 and a half minutes. Social interaction with people that spend all of their free time doing the exact same thing as you really makes you feel, confident that what you are doing is right.
Matt Cross. I also met him in the footbag room, where I saw that he had a drink in hand and was conversing with another, I think it was Scott / Flash / Gorden. Is it Gordan? Damn the name Jorden for ruining my spelling forever more. Anyway, As I was in a circle I figured not interupting Matt and not leaving the circle would be the thing to do, and then mid-string Matt walks up and introduces himself to me again, much like Dave where I realize I fucked up again. Anyway, I felt good buying some of his Footbags, and speaking with him as if I had known him for forever.
At this moment I realized I had a lack of Pengpeng and Tom Mosher. I asked around for their Where-abouts, and then realized that I'd just have to wait to see them. They are really my comfort zone in Footbag, as I speak with Peng almost frequently, and Tom really introduced me to the fact that Footbag is the best thing in the world. Whether he likes it or not, maybe realizes it or not would be a better description.
Brinard / Brian. At around the same time as Matt, brian and holly came in and I didn't think much of it. I knew they were cool and all, but I had hardly spoken to either of them and really didn't see them much at worlds. Brian came up to me and said my name, and offered me a footbag for sale. Just the random chat that ensued shocked me, as it was as close to real as it could be. Brian is just a cool guy and it made me happy that we could just speak of random things having no history of any kind.
Eventually I made it up to my room, where I then realized that I was rooming with Dave, Henry, Ben AND Evan. I did not deserve such an awesome room, I mean, what more could I ask for. I lucked out on this one, as they are as a whole the best people ever for joking and making fun out of nothing. I left out Colin a sentence earlier because prior to this event, I had never met him, and didn't even know that he was going to be hilarious and have a complete way of his own. The things that were said in that room I am not sure will be as funny to anyone outside of it, but I'll likely re-tell them anyway.
Pokemon. Seriously, how in the world could a group of 16-20 year olds (how old is Colin?..) spend 30 minutes talking about Pokemon. Dave must have rocked his school in Pokemon. He modestly said he just has a good memory, but I think we all know Dave was a super-pimp in his Pokemon days, and all the kids on the playground respected and envied him as the entire footbag community does now. He named I think 90 out of the origonal 151 pokemon, with utter seriousness and prestige. I have no idea how to use the word prestige, but I am 100% confident Dave had it.
Snouffel. what the shit. Mid Pokemon name-off, Colin said in an awkward silence sort-of way, the word Snouffel. He passed if off as if it were a Pokemon, and it was the most hilarious thing that could have happened. He then assumed it was a Digemon character, but self corrected himself knowing that all Digemon characters names end in -Mon. At 2:00 AM I don't think anyone could not-not laugh at the way it went down.
Eventually we went to bed. I was happy that Henry did not take all of the covers.
Seriously, it is the worst when people take the covers and you don't know them well enough to take them back.
*shivers*
Anyway,
We wake up, and it seems as if Colin woke up in the same mood and hilarity as the night before, and Dave and Evan had the ability to sleep right through all of us talking showering and carrying on casually. I got a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich from Matthieu, which I was internally grateful (yes, I didn't use the word eternally) for because I had not eaten since 12:00 pm the previous day, in the airport. I meandered up to the CIC suite and then found a couple familiar faces, and l most importantly remember the pancakes. Of course I was starving but felt awkward about having someone I didn't know make me pancakes, and not knowing if I should pay them or not. So when the last batch of batter was ready, I shyly rose my hand and offered to take the last batch of pancakes.
I am a pussy.
I really like Matt Cross, because as I was walking around the suite not knowing what to do or who to talk to, he called me over and showed me a puzzle with nickels and dimes. I remembered the exact way he did it, because my brain can just remember those types of things and was happy that I could show it to someone in the future. I am pretty sure he intentionally knew I was alone and tried to help me out, which I am really appreciative about. I am socially retarted in the ways of picking up on peoples emotions, so I generally just see what makes me feel good and try to do the same to others.
We then went to the footbag site, and by we I mean Ben Skaggs and I. This place was huge. I made a video the second day of the entire walk, just so I could remember it.
I think I played some footbag here, but I am shit so I don't have anything to remark on. Ripping run was hilarious, as I dropped on my second contact. I know I am better than that, so it just drills the message into my head that I have to be more confident within myself. I'll get on this later.
Mr. Clavens is pretty much what I think everyone should strive to be in footbag, as he is a complete representation of what hard work can do to someone in Footbag. You don't have to be a prodigy child (Vasek) or have a creative mind that is one in a billion (Jorden) to be the best in the world, you can do it by practising. That is how I will describe the competition this day.
Dave was tired, and wanted to swim. I can't swim, and obviously for this reason wouldn't suggest it, but no one else seemed to be on board. So as we were walking away from the site, talking to Goldberg about the Zohan movie with Evan and Ben, we settled the fact that we'd go. So up to the room get changed and talk shit with Goldberg, who, is intelligent and hilarious by the way, Dave and I went swimming. Water is so good for your legs, and am going to water-shred in the universities pool wherever I go next year for sure. I don't want to keep this write-up completely describing Dave, but he just had such a huge impact on my outlook that I can't really ignore it and do the tournament justice. Just talking with him made me realize how smart he was, and how his advice could help me. He just went out on a limb and said something about who I am and how I treat people, and it made me wonder about how I should go about interacting in the future.
Damn.
I got steel from pengpeng. Right before the pool. Booyah. I have filler.
Pengpeng is the most resourceful person I know. No wonder Tom is so enthusiastic about how she has so much potential.
Having a buffet with Cale Goldberg Dave Flash/Gorden/Gordan Steve Aidan Evan and Ben was priceless, even though it was $25. The food was great, and the jokes that were thrown around the table were a-plenty. I just want to make a special note of "that's what she said". Goldberg and Dave are rivaling champions at this special art like I have never seen. I thought Ben Benulis was good at Worlds, but these two just fly. I was happy I got to see who Cale was, as I don't think I'll meet him in the near future, and he is relatively new to modified. If anyone is reading this from that group, what was the word that Flash said about putting a spoonfull of something on a plate? A Dolop or something?
Bochuk.
No one has ever screwed up my name until that conversation. Somehow someone thought my name was Bochuk, which actually made me happy. I've never had a nickname of any kind, and always secretly wanted one. While I don't think Bochuk is a good name or anything, it just made that small dream come true. Wow, I suck.
I think we played some more footbag after this. Maybe it was the combo generator. Wait, that was exactly what it was. Evan Ben Steve(goldberg) and I went to the empty shredroom and kicked for a bit. Steve set a sole stall record of 21, and I got to ask him about alot of footbag-history. Apparently Lon Smith was a co-creator of 4 square. Who knew.
The combo generator was intense. Not because there was stiff competition or anything, but just seeing Dave in action. He is so god damn good at footbag, he b2b'ed the entire combination. I think it was about 10-15 contacts long, and had everyone else failing.
Before this I enjoyed almost learning how to clipper kick while many of us had a small circle trying to get the highest number. Ben has consistant clipper kicks,.
Sometime after this we went to the room and got some polish sausages. Zac accompanied us for this leg of the adventure, which I liked. I'm losing steam for writing this write-up, as it is 1:00 AM and I have been writing this for over an hour now. Crap. I want to get this done. Sometime through the night, I found Dave's Gunits. Heavenly. I looked at the supple white laces in the pure black leather, and realized it was something I had never tried before. A new lacing combination, this was like grabbing the lepreachaun who hides the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow by the jugular and singing to gospel music. I just can't describe the awesomeness of the simplicity of this design. As I laced my mesh gunits in the exact same fashion as the (pronounced "thee") david Clavens gunit, I ripped the jugulars straight out of the Lucky Charms mascots throat. Booyah. Majestic Walrus' might as well have started carressing hot sticks of butter and lathered themselves all over Finland. The music playing in my head was roughly the tone of the "holy hand grenade" used in the Worms series of video games, and all I needed was to pull the pin and excersize my right to play some footbag with a toebox that fetus' dream about inside the womb, imagining the perfect shoe for when they actually have toes.
So, I went out into the hall inbetween some elevators and played footbag. First Dave came, and then the rest of the room. I really liked that everyone came, so that they could pick me apart and make me a better footbagger. Apparently I start tricks to quickly, and don't play with that good of style. This will change.
There is this Dog that I knew when it was a puppy. It was located somewhere on a farm that for 2 days I hay-bailed, in the hot July sun and the extremely poor conditions of a barn this little thing just waddled around. When you showed up it just flailed it's chin in every which way, and the wrinkles on the back of it's neck acted like an accordian. This happy little fellows name was Dangles, and this is where Dangly came about.
Zac was in the elevator hallway just the same as everyone else, minding his own business, like everyone else. Dave was trying to get me to do something or other, when Zac knew that he could physically show me exactly what Dave was trying to teach. As Zac stood up with his ripped jean bottoms, chipped fingernails and luscious long curly brown hair, he did consecutive toe stalls. In all this comotion, the only thing I could think of was Dangles. That damn little dog might as well have jumped out and killed the leprechaun for me, as he super-imposed Zac's entire being right onto my face. Things connected, as I invisioned Dangles in Zac's bedroom which was all so dangly as well, I exploded. I couldn't keep it in any longer, just the dangly-ness of that little pooch wouldn't let me subside. I had to ask "How do you live withyourself, you don't cut your fingernails, you have ripped jeans, your bedroom's a mess and your hair is really long. You are just, so, dangly!".
At that exact moment, the little dog grew into an adult, lost his danglyness and trotted away. Completely isolated in this random elevator hallway 500 miles away from my comfy home where I write you this write-up, I realized what I had just said was exactly what Dave had pegged me as in the sauna earlier. When someone is different than I am, I can't understand it and often don't accept it and act innapropriately. At this -oh:shit- moment in my life, I felt like such a prick. I have nothing against Zac, in fact, I admire him. He is a great footbag player, and I enjoy talking and spending time with him, it is just that that little puppy and Zac's being at that very moment hit me like a brick, and I couldn't help myself.
I wasn't sure what to do. Here I am, completely unconfident within myself, I have no self esteem whatsoever and over-think everysingle situation I am in, and in the only community in the world where I am starting to get accepted I potentially insult someone who has done nothing but be nice to me. Good idea fuck up.
Thankfully, this seems to have turned into a joke where Henry and Zac post it on Modified, and perhaps in the months/years to come it will be something to laugh about. I am apologizing to Zac here, as I sincerely didn't mean to insult him, it was just that at 2:00 AM where multiple people are looking at you when you are the center of attention, I might as well have traded social skills with a Belgian-Waffle that had too much flour to be delicious, and instead be the reject that was fed to the over-weight and under-appreciated dog in the deep dark corner.
So yeah, Vernon saved the day by kicking us out and making the awkward moment for myself pass. He also gave us some fuel for jokes to say, which Colin and Dave butchered into hilarity.
Dave: Vernon, I'd like a nice handjob,
Colin: Was that a serious statement?
It wasn't that, but somewhere along those lines that was said. In utter sincerety, Colin implied that he'd like one from Vernon himself. With anyone other than Colin, it would have been one of those awkward "I'm not sleeping next to you" kind of moments. Snouffel,.Buahhahaa.
Wake up. Don't eat. Go to the event site. Play footbag. After the previous night's, fuck, I forgot something important.
Canadian Masterbation.
For some reason, when Matthieu was in the shower there was a really rapid pounding noise, that sounded like a jackhammer. Obviously it was not Matthieu in the shower, but it was coming from some sort of machine in his direction. Colin then muttered the words "That is how we masterbate in Canada"
Tee hee hee.
So, anyway, at the event site. I felt like crap from Dangly comments. As I overthink and blow up every social situation, I just didn't know what to do. I started warming up alone, when I get carried away into a circle. I felt really weird, as I was trying to incorperate all the things I had learned at the tournament into 30 minutes of shred, and then critisized myself harshly for not doing it right. This flustered me, and I didn't hit a good run the entire circle. In fact, I played horribly the entire 2 days. Bluck. Fuck Bluck, it isn't a good word. I'll use the word "bochuk" here. I said goodbye to everyone, and coincidentally left at the exact same time as Tom Peng and Matt Cross. It was nice to leave with them, as they really mean a lot to me. Everyone of them has helped me in some way, and I wont forget it.
I got in an airport shuttle, got a little depressed and confused for multiple reasons, leaving the tournament, playing so poorly, not training well enough for 1.5 years prior to it, and being a social retard. And then felt really happy, because despite all of it, I will get to go home, and work on every skill I have and be a better person for it.
Footbag.
Thank you Ben, Matthieu, Evan, Dave, Zac, Matt, Tom, Peng, and Henry for making me love this game so much more. I just love Footbag so much, and I can't wait to become really good at it. Seriously, to each of you I appreciate what you did for me at this tournament. And I thank everyone else for making it possible for me to have this experience, every one of you contributed.
