Hanford 2008 - Friday Night/Saturday Morning

So a bit of ultimate shop to set down, then perhaps some other bits and pieces.

This past weekend was the Hanford Howl, which has in recent years been the tournament I enjoy most in the ultimate season. On Friday, I called in sick to work and at about 11 rolled out of bed to start packing for the weekend. 11 was slightly later then I had planned, and I was immediately greeted by a chirping from my phone that indicated I had missed not one, but two calls - both from the great Sommarstrom. He was calling to get my address, as the plan was to carpool out to the Tri-Cities in his folks' Honda Pilot. Information was communicated and I immediately launched into a whirlwind of packing activity.

Cleats, food, clothes, and entertainment were all thrown in a pile by the door (with a bit of booze for good measure). I also got the hot tub set for stun (heat!) so that the Sunday return from physical exertion could be met with a solid dose of soaking. Chris showed up around noon, and we played a bit of Rockband 2 before heading out the door around 1:30ish (?). A quick stop was made on the way towards I-90 to drop Lance off at the kennel, and the journey eastward started. The roads were wide open with the early start, and we made good time.

The initial stages of the trip were spent examining the new car for the bits and pieces that would allow us to plug in Chris's iPod. This effort ended in failure and we moved on to playing with the satellite radio, which gave us plenty of options. We swung from Alternative hits (Soundgarden! Pearl Jam! Alice in Chains!) to Comedy (DL Hughley, George Carlin, Chris Rock) to Metal (Cattle Decapitation) to talk radio (Trucker Radio!, Air America). The little XM guide that came with the car was mostly accurate (it looked like a few stations had been added, some removed).

A stop was made along the way to stretch out our legs, toss a disc, and drink a beer. A strange occurrence. A trucker emerges from the bathroom at the rest stop while we sip our beers and toss the disc around obstacles. As he heads in our direction he turns towards us and asks if we want some corned beef hash. Chris replies in the negative. I myself have nothing against the CBH, but the manner of the proposition lends a certain hesitancy. I sip my beer in silence, and let Chris's answer stand for both of us. We continue to toss, and I watch the trucker open the back of his semi- and pull out 5 one-gallon cans of corned beef hash. He stacks them in a pyramid behind his truck, surveys his work, and then begins moving them into the cab of the truck. Whether the stacking display (he stood looking at the stack for a minute or two) was to tantalize us is a question that I will probably never know the answer to.

Refreshed, we get back on the road and finish off the trip. We roll into Richland about two and a half hours before anyone else from the team and grab dinner at the Atomic Ale House brewery. Food was eaten, beers were consumed, and a text was received from the wonderful Lora Flewelling. Our mission, if we chose to accept it, was to find a nearby liquor store and determine its hours of operation. I asked our server, and he pointed us in the general direction, and we proceeded. Once at the store, I got back in touch with Lora to find out where she was at, and whether she wanted us to pick up the martini making materials that were the reason for her inquiry.

The martinis of course were a prop (albeit a prop that would be consumed over and over throughout the weekend) that went along with our team costume theme. The Howl, in way of explanation, is a costume tournament. Each team picks a theme and runs with it. Over the course of the next couple of days, we'd get to see teams of Frat Boys (the Bros), Gnomes, Lifeguards, LARPers, ghosts, types of Whiskey (Crown Royal represented by a kingly figure, Wild Turkey by dude in a turkey suit, ...), and Saturday Night Live figures. We, in a play off our name Rainmakers, attended the tournament as Moonrakers. We were Bond. James Bond. And of course other elements of the Bond universe were present as well. Bond girls. Jaws (Chris wrapped his teeth in tinfoil early in the day on Saturday before switching to duct tape later), Moonrakers, and a large number of Bonds. We would be dressed to the nines, and require our martinis. Shaken. Not stirred. And to this effect, vodka and vermouth were purchased.

Still having time to kill, Chris and I settled into the Honda Pilot to wait for Lora, who had booked the rooms that we would be staying in. The laptop was pulled out and we started watching License to Kill. While this may come off as heretical, I think that Timothy Dalton is one of my favorite Bonds. Over the weekend, I watched both License to Kill and The Living Daylights, and his interpretation of Bond seems to be in a similar vein to what Daniel Craig is doing with his stint. Bond is dangerous, impulsive, and darker in his hands. There's humor, but mostly of the gallows sort. I find myself thinking that I need to sit down and watch a selection of each of the actors' work to make a better assessment. I also think this is one of those cans of worms that I'd like to open with my dad. Possibly as divisive as politics, but less serious.

About an hour in, we're able to get into the hotel and I immediately find the looming prospect of intoxication. Gin and tonics, gimlets, and cheap beer come slowly at first and then quickly as it appears that all of the ultimate players in the hotel are converging around our hotel rooms (the hotel has an indoor pool, and we are poolside. The abundance of tables, central location, and the fact that we were there early makes it an ideal spot for the steady accretion that turns into a party).

Bed comes eventually, and I wake up periodically. Each time, I toss down water, to stave off the impending apocalypse of a hangover. Eventually breakfast rolls around. My stomach is unsettled but I grab a muffin or two and drink more water. My head doesn't protest too much and moving around is starting to get me going. I grab my stuff from the hotel room, and Chris and I head over to the fields.