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Nemesis of the week: Holidays that end too soon./ Microsoft word.

With all the best intentions Sam's GP Diary Entry 2 regarding the pre-releases and sneak peaks in the lead up to the GP was diligently written and typed, then for some reason beyond me something happened with saving it and I could not locate the document for some time. Now that the document has been found, and in light of the GP now being a happy memory to me, I thought I would not beat around a proverbial bush and proceed to this, article 3, the grand finale.

I've entitled this tales of mediocrity, triumph, failure, fortunes and true love because for me, this GP was one. They are always a good time, but this one, just managed to trump them all for an emotional and sleep deprived roller coaster of events. I would never have it any other way.

Thursday 2 October 2003.

I arrived, as I tend to, way too early at the airport, but this time, I was fortunate enough to be able to get on an earlier flight (if I ran). I ran and I caught it, the flight had been delayed for an hour due to inclement weather when I got on it, so everyone on the plane already looked tired and irritable as I boarded and there was no room left to store my hand luggage. Once in the sky, nothing had changed. I usually fly well, I love flying and have never felt sick on a plane until this flight. I have never been subjected to king turbulence before. The skies were in such a dreadful mood I may as well have been flying at 30000ft in a washing machine. To help the situation, the woman sitting in the row in front of me was completely and utterly terrified, she cried inconsolably for the entire flight, and in moments of severe turbulence would cry out "we're all going to die! God Help Us!!" Somewhere in the distance, were the sounds of other passengers making use of the sick bags. Its an unmistakeable noise, that of throwing up, and an unmistakeable odour following those that couldn't wrestle the bag out in time. The man accompanying the woman in front of me did nothing to assist her cause, rather than trying to console her he thought it better to ridicule her fear and tell her she was being stupid. It was a dreadful flight all in all, but the destination was always going to be worth it.

I got into Sydney an hour earlier than I had anticipated, and my was met by two very special friends of mine who were kind enough to pick me up, and, in a very special car which was borrowed for the occasion. (see section: Props and Slops: Props) It was a quick drop off at the super-swanky Intercontinental Hotel on a dark and rainy evening. Then back in the car to the Sydney Games Centre. Being a Brisbanite I had never had the pleasure of being in Foggo and Otto's store, but the atmosphere in general was something that reminded me of being around good friends and excellent company, I felt like I belonged there. We drafted, ate, drank and embraced merriment. The trade off of staying there and drafting, to going back to the hotel for sleep was a happy one. The draft went on, I came third. I shared a cab back to the intercontinental with my GP room mate Kerry and an itinerant Dave Low who was passing by the tournament and SCG in amongst work conferencing. I collapsed some time after midnight and don't remember anything until…

Friday 3 October, 2003.

The sun was an unwelcome intruder to Kerry and my room at around 6:20am. I could not understand why I couldn't find some sort of block out blind, "how could such a swanky hotel not have one"? I remember complaining into my pillow. It was a slow beginning to what I knew what was going to be a long day. The only upshot to that sort of rude awakening is being the first down to breakfast and actually having time to eat, as opposed to scoff. The breakfast was a good show as always, and you can stock up in the inevitable event you won't get any food for the rest of the day because of busy ness, lazy ness, flying time or being too slow to the judge food when it arrived. It was also at breakfast where I discovered there was a night blind, but I just didn't see it. After a detailed description on where it could be found, (in a cunningly obvious place near the bed) I hoped for future nights of better sleep, and had to renounce my cursing of the Hotel Intercontinental.

Kerry and I arrived at the venue early and, like all the judges, did the heavy lifting part in the helping of the set up. I did however, get very lucky in claiming one of the best jobs for the better part of this first day, player registration. It's frantic, but you get to sit down. You learn fast when you judge that if you are able to sit down you do, because you need to be on your feet for long hours. It was great to see familiar faces coming forth and registering, it was all starting. The trials progressed through the afternoon, I was put in charge of the second one, after only a few minor disasters at the beginning, I had to clear my nerves and take control mainly knowing that I was being observed for my level 2 judge test I had to do this well. In the end it worked out and my players seemed happy and provided me with good feedback from the trial. I feel it necessary to note that it is a huge boost to judges when players give them good feedback, or say thanks for helping run the tournament, everyone likes to know if they have a done a job well, and constructive criticism is also welcomed. Either way, it helped me immensely.

Even though it doesn't seem like you do much as a judge sometimes, the tasks do act as giant energy sapping devices and by the end of the day you are invariably stuffed. A good stuffed, but stuffed. At the end of this day, I had to take my judge test for level 2. It was a dastardly late night that night, I wasn't in bed before 2:00am, I never got time to eat dinner and I was kicking myself that I knew I had not done as well on my test as I would have liked. I am always my own worst enemy when it comes to these things. I decided to take a bath to calm down but ended up falling asleep and waking up freezing at some ungodly hour. It was bad form all round. I had to move on from not passing and get on with having a great time and judging to the best of my ability. To my credit it wasn't an ideal situation, but then again in a tournament environment it hardly ever is, suffice to say I did just miss out. I was disappointed, but took encouragement and heart in the good feedback I still recieved from players and my fellow judges, including head judge Chris Williams, whose primary feedback involved included that I needed to be more assertive and have more experience (phew! you can deal with that kind of worst) but he was pleased in general with my judging and was impressed with how far I had come. It's taken on board. So everyone will see a lot more of me gaining such experience at major events, oh dear, now I have yet another excuse to go to major magic tournaments!! I guess I will just have to tolerate that one! In the end I did get on with it, I did have a great time, and I did judge well for the rest of the tournament. There will always be more opportunities to subject myself to exam anxiety again.

Saturday 4th October, 2003

The main event day 1! In the comatose state from the previous evenings event's I neglected to set my alarm or find out what time I had to be at the venue. It was 6:20am again when Kerry woke me up, (at least I was in bed and not in the bath). While I can't remember what I said to her at that moment, I am sure it wasn't flattering. I drank as much black coffee (loathe the stuff) as I could that morning and even bummed a smoke off Kerry (I am not a smoker) to try and wake up and put myself in a better frame of mind for the day. Its always the way though that once you get there, and you get into the event and with the players, you come around, you settle and you get on with it. I was put in charge of a team of judges which all in all went very well in my opinion. We were all synergy and everyone worked really well together. I would like to think it is my organisational skills, but in the end I think I could only credit that 10% to the fact that as a team we did really well. The fact that people were motivated to work, pumped about the event and everyone pulled their weight. Plus, they were all top notch people of the highest integrity (cash payments accepted guys)

During a short break, I fell in love with "Atlantis" a Rob Alexander print. I bought it off him, and in the end, it took until Sunday afternoon to arrange a time to get the man to sign it. Rob was a profoundly pleasant man who was not peturbed by the fact that he spent hours and hours on end signing his name. Every time I walked past him he appeared to be doing a roaring trade for art and signings and every time I caught his eye he would smile at me in a "gee you look wrecked, I feel sorry for you" kind of way. Which was nice. Kieren Otton, conversely just poked faces at me, moking my sleep-deprived pain. ;)

There were always crowds of players milling around, everyone was hotly discussing what they would need to be able to make day 2 and wondering who would be there to draft against. There were tales of victory against all odds and crippling degrees of mana screw, and of the most savage mising at the best possible time. From what I could mise from walking through everyone's conversation there were several hot topics. One included general amazement by the effort of a one, Lenny Collins, who, although has become a rather flamboyant, loud part of the furniture in the magic playing community was one amongst just a couple talented players had managed to go 8 - 0, but Lenny had no byes. This was counter-balanced with the drone of my friend Tim's continual saga of how badly he does at GP's and background commentary resonating from the room on the brokenness of Loxodon Warhammer in Limited.

The day turned into a night which became the night of the judges dinner. This occasion is usually a highlight for a sociable soul such as myself and this night was no exception. Upon taking off from the venue with a group of judges we soon came to realise about 10 minutes into the walk that nobody was sure of the name of the restaurant or exactly where it was. Ray and Winston were the only locals and kept getting conflicting information on the name of the restaurant, only that it was a Chinese BBQ place and somewhere in Chinatown. Naturally this was helpful information which narrowed the field immensely - sarcasm entirely intended. In the end, we spotted a familar face and found the restaurant. When we arrived, half the judges were there anyway, with that "so where the hell did you guys get to" look on their collective faces. It was a good meal and I always welcome any opportunity to drink Tsingtao Beer and show off my chopstick expertise. The intent to make the night an early one, was lost in fine company, fine food and fine conversation.

Sunday 5th October

There was a call for volunteers to venture down to the side events room to judge the PTQ and leave the hustle and bustle of main event judging. I jumped at the opportunity for a mild change of pace. There was still player registration, a big event, deck checking and working that floor, but there is something about being around a slightly more sociable and slightly less competitive environment which appeals to me, especially after two sleep deprived days of intensity, team coordination, and reminding Lenny to watch his language. In my opinion the PTQ went smoothly, in spite of Foggo's music playing in the background, which I thought for sure would incite violence in the players. It ran over time still, but smoothly. By the end of the afternoon I was running on call eight player booster drafts. These are always fun, more relaxed and I had the privilage of giving out consecutive prizes as boosters where all my players opended bomb cards. A foil Leveler and a Luminous Angel was enough for Val to jump up and hug me, similarly for Jens to do the same when I found his misplaced deck the day previous (thank goodness). Other cards I saw cracked were Isochron Scepters, Troll Ascetic and Glimmervoid. Not to mention the Mirrodin hats, which was seriously tempting to concede for ;)

By the end of the day, I was required to table judge the quarter and semi finals of the PTQ, but not before I managed five minutes with Rob Alexander to sign that print he had been looking after for me all weekend. In his charming Canadian way, he signed it, "Sam, Best Wishes Always - You're Beautiful". Talk about a way to make your weekend! *sigh* It's one way to walk into table judging finals with a smile on your face and it gave me a boost to concentrate well on my quarter and semi final matches. For the final, Brenton our head judge from New Zealand was happy to run the show while I started my long list of goodbyes to people there and the the inevitable disassembling and packing up that ends a tournament. Furthermore, it was time to confirm the appropriate post GP Party venue - Star City Casino was nominated. With cleaning up, saying goodbye and returning to the hotel to change into clothes worthy of being seen in a Casino, it was at least 1:30am before we got to the Casino. So its appropriate to consider the next entry as below as starting on..

Monday 6th October

At the Casino it was time to kick back, eat, drink and be merry. We came across Foggo and Otto again, and joined them for a drink before deciding at around 2:30am it might be time to have dinner. There was something about eating fish and chips at that hour that took me back to those reckless University days. Speaking of reckless behaviour, it was time to hit the tables and it was my lucky night. Call it beginners luck, but on the $2 roulette table the number 24 (my birthdate) that I betted on twice, came up twice. I left the table $110 up with those around me shaking their heads. It wasn't long after that we came across a jubilant team of Death Dealers. Following Andrew Grain's victory in the GP there wasn't a person there at those tables that already had not partied way too hard. It was a great atmosphere, although I felt the need to prod Andrew every so often to check that he was infact still conscious, I was pleased to see he was. Periodically, Bomber would burst proudly into the Essendon team song and while people looked on, there was nobody in that bar going to do a damn thing about it! There was much drinking to be had, laughs and tales of victory, the rain poured down around us, the music, conversations and songs of the poker machines danced in your ears, the glimmering of the rainwater blending with the endless sparkling of casino lights. They blended almost seemlessly by the end of the night, as I felt myself starting to feel like returning to the hotel was a necessity. I left my room mate Kerry there with the Death Dealers and Co and they continued their celebrations. By the time I got back to the hotel (at almost 5:00am) she was still not there. A grandmother, and she still has more party endurance than me, I smiled a beguiled smile and collapsed into sleep. I heard Kerry come in and leave at some stage, but I wasn't awake. Stuffing my things into my bag at 5 minutes to check out I had sufficient sleep to see the sights of Sydney for the next two days.

Epilogue

Previous to this trip, I had disliked Sydney, there always seemed to be too much hustle and bustle, too much noise and movement. But this time, things were different. It seemed a city which was more relaxed and content with itself, rather than being always pushing, like it had something to prove to the world. It was a surreal couple of days. Sydney's sights delighted me and opened my mind. I fell in love with its character, its contradictions, and a feeling of overall acceptance of people. I had enjoyed the GP fully, and my brief holiday following it even more so. There were more highlights in these two days, than there had been cumulatively to all my previous trips there. It was with hopeful melancholy that I returned to Brisbane, but with a promise to return to Sydney, and an excitement which will only increase, as we approach Cancon and it all happens again, this time, in Canberra.
I hope to see you all there.
Until then everyone - be safe - mise well.
Samantha Hepworth

Props and Slops: - The Credits

Props:

*The "Foggomobile": If nothing else, it's a legendary artifact.
*Sydney Games Centre: For atmosphere, hospitality and good times.
*Foggo and Otto: For being themselves, and Otto - I pull faces in your general direction.
*The Intercontinental Hotel: For swankiness value, besuited staff and breathtaking views.
*Star City Casino and the number "24": for winning me money J and having somewhere to buy fish and chips at 2:30am on a public holiday.
*Rob Alexander: Fine artist, fine chap, and clearly has impeccable taste in women.
*All the players: props in general for a great GP to EVERYONE. Special Thanks to: Richard (Gracey) Grace, (Ali) Gene Brumby, Jens Light, Chris Williams, Ben Seck, Chris Kwan, Greg Romans, Lenny Collins, Rob Stuart, Scott Hunstad, Scott Smith, The Death Dealers, Seth McIntosh, Tim Butland for their feedback, encouragement and general good form.
*The judges/ staff: In particular my team of judges for the main event (John Reiman, Dave Redfern, Pip Hunn, Danesh Jogia, and the irrepressable Russell Alphey) - you all made me look good and are awesome people to work with, thanks for everything. Lindsay Heming for his constant support, Kerry Sammut (for being a great roommate) Michael Mason and Chris Williams for putting up with me, Andrew Pirie my registration partner in crime who introduced me to Portugese Chicken. And naturally, Dale Aitken and Dan Gow for putting on the best GP ever.

Slops:

*Turbulence on flights and histrionic passengers.
*Forgetting a better jacket and being cold in Sydney.
*In flight catering. "What's that green thing"?
*The night blind in the Intercontinental for making me look foolish.
*Foggo's music: Sorry Foggo, the petition in the SGC is entirely well founded.

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