The Conference Review

I wish I had taken a photo of the carpeting at the Metro Toronto Convention Centre. It is the ugliest, most disgusting, and nauseating carpet I have ever seen. I have to think it was some sort of sick joke. There are two varieties: the first in the open areas, although ugly, retains some dignity in it's restrained geometry. In the meeting rooms, all hell breaks loose. I still haven't determined if the design is supposed to resemble a plant - perhaps a pea pod - or a pupal casing.

Late Friday, after the AGM for a division I am a member of (or, of which I am a member), I headed to the reception, a few minutes late. I asked a colleague when the food was coming, as all I could see were lengths of empty tables, laid out with white hotel table cloths. "Oh", he said, "the food is gone already." In the twenty minutes that had expired, while I lingered over the last half a glass of wine and chatted with friends and colleagues, hundreds of librarians had devoured all of the food. In the distance, I saw a man, dressed in white wielding a knife, presiding over a hunk of beef the size of a Smart car. I thought it might have been a mirage.

I gravitated to him, found a plate, and he hacked off a piece of bloody beef. I declined the bread roll, as I cannot eat wheat, and looked for cutlery. Finding only a fork, I attempted to cut the flesh with the blunt side of the implement. Failing in that task, I picked up the bloody meat with my hands and ripped at it with my teeth. I was thankful for the dim light, for I think I looked like a lion gnawing on the belly of some unfortunate ungulate. I wiped away the juices flowing down my chin, took a sip of wine, and reflected on the fact that I used to be a vegetarian. How things change.

Listening to: Beck - The Information.

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