Conference Tales

I wanted to post a picture here, to illustrate what I've been viewing for the last two days. But actually, no picture can do justice. I was surrounded by people with inquiring minds--whose inquiring minds produce some wonderful research. The problem was that so many were unbelieveably odd. It all began on the bus.

Megan and I were invited to speak at a professional conference. Neither of us are members of the profession that sponsored the event, but both of us have some disciplinary relationship with the research or research methods for which this profession is famous. So we went to present papers, glad for another line on our CVs.

We flew into Oakland airport, then took a bus to the BART station, where we were to take a train to our conference center. As we lumbered onto the bus, dragging our unwieldy luggage, my attention was immediately arrested by a rather large man sitting next to the luggage rack. Some people merely take up a seat (or two). Others take up the whole bus with their presence or attitude. Walking past him, I noticed that his eyebrows were tweezed and penciled into thin arches that made him look perpetually delighted or surprised. His hair was an interesting study. He had perfectly coifed, loopy Mozartesque burls all over his head, excentuating his very round face. Oh, and I forgot to mention that his hair color was somewhere between gray-brown-green-taupe-copper. That alone, was of note.
He was sprawled out over both seats in what struck me as a rather grandiose pose. Across the aisle sat a young male companion who seemed adoring of his mentor almost as much as he was of himself. He caught the eye of Mr. Mozart and jerked his head in Megan's direction.
"Are you going to the conference?" he sang out rather loudly to Megan. And so began a vociferous exchange with Megan and incidentally, audible to all of those in the back and midsection of the bus. "I am Doctor Hickemsnivie from St. James University on the Water" he announced, waiting a moment as he surveyed us all for effect. I was immediately disgusted. But Megan is not one to turn people off. So within moments, she, Dr. Hickemsnivie and his sidekick, were engaged in a loud conversation about Denmark's role in the underground resistance movement during World War II. They debated and held forth all the way to the train station. People standing in the aisle inclined toward the little knot of gesticulating hands and loud voices, trying to see if this guy was for real or not, and what on earth an attractive woman like Megan would see in carrying on this kind of conversation in a public place with such characters. I was glad to be seated back away from them a bit.
As I got off the bus, Megan, who had gotten off before me, was telling her new friends that we would both indeed be presenting our papers at said conference. Turning to me, she introduced me as Dr. --but our peroxide-assisted friend nodded at me, shook my hand and said, "I graduated from Smith-Tyner University." Not, "Pleased to meet you," or "Looks like we're all going the same place." I was so put off that I turned and walked off without comment. There are times when that seems justifiable, I think.
I scurried off to buy our tickets whilst Megan tried to disentangle herself from these two. Fortunately, we left them behind, wrangling with the ticket machines, and went up to the train platform.
I was beginning to wonder about this conference, but of course, every group has a few outliers. We positioned ourselves against a wall and stood enjoying the sunshine as we waited for our train.

"Oh, hello again!" and here came our Pickwickian shadow, ready for more grandstanding. I stepped away to avoid him, just as he launched into an exegesis on characterological components of a religious minority group. His voice could be heard over the din of our surroundings. I was mortified.

As I stood off a way, a rather friendly, robust young woman approached me. I noticed that she did not have on a bra and was as endowed as anyone I've ever seen. Shall we say that not all of her got to where I was standing at the same time.

"Is that the labaris on your lapel?" she asked. I was wearing a silver thistle on my suit. I explained that it was the symbol of the Scots. She told me that it looked like the lesbian labaris and she was delighted to see me wearing it proudly. I have no idea of what that is, so whether or not my pin looks like a labaris, is up for speculation.
"Are you going to the conference, too?" I asked her.
"Oh yes." She smiled. "And I see that you and your friend are going to be presenting something. What?"
"Oh, it's about forgiveness" I replied, not wanting to fall into a loud conversation about theoretical things on the train tracks. Her eyes narrowed and she looked at me intently.
"Are you for it or against it?" she asked in a low voice.
Oh, for the love of Pete...
"I'm just talking about research related to it." She relaxed a little, though I was both amused and curious about this.
"And are you presenting as well?"
"Oh yes. I'm presenting on fat advocacy. I'm in fat studies."
Fortunately, I had heard of this field of study before, but it always takes me off guard. Megan had never heard of it and guffawed when the woman explained her role at the conference a bit later.

Later in the afternoon, Megan and I looked over the conference program, trying to decide which meetings we would attend. Indeed, there was a "fat reading" the next morning. And Dr. Mozart? He was presenting on the inclusion of UFOs, aliens and brainwashing in curricula. Go figure.

I have never seen as many unusual people in one place at one time.
Glad to be home.