As a reporter, you accumulate a lot of junk when you cover events. There are things that you just have to cut out no matter how interesting (or uninteresting) they are. Although I would say that my Shoctoberfest story is complete as it is, there are, nonetheless, elements that must see the light of day before being banished forever from the realm of my notepad.
I present to you: Random Notes from Shoctoberfest 2010.
It is 4:48pm, and it is the dreariest day possible. Overcast like no tomorrow--so much that you couldn't even see a shadow. With the street blocked off, all I see are a bunch of yellow shirts, no doubt worn by the Student Services staff, the self-professed "Dream Team."
Inside the Bren Events Center, giant screens mounted on the rafters show a live feed of the entrance. Some ASUCI execs are interviewing people and one of them is a girl who is cosplaying as Vanille, the most horribly voice-acted character in Final Fantasy XIII. Some people at the event are dressed up in costumes, probably because Halloween is just around the corner.
The giant screen flickers, and the Microsoft PowerPoint template flashes. The secret behind the screen is now revealed! To think that it is using technology as advanced as Microsoft PowerPoint!
With my press pass, I walk around the back tunnels where most of the workers are stationed. Security personnel are plentiful, but as long as you look like you know what you're doing, nobody's going to question you. So I'll gladly grab a slice of free pizza and a can of Mountain Dew reserved for the Student Services staff, thank you very much.
Is music supposed to be so loud that it strikes right at your chest? My heart is rattling like a Nascar driver in a roll-cage experiencing the greatest crash of his life. Them beats is that powerful.
Peter the Anteater is one buff mofo. Too much antler spray.
I wish I could Dougie as well as John Wall--but we all know that Blake Griffin is the future.
Instead of sitting outside on the seats, I decide to go into the giant mess of dancing people on the court. I probably should've guzzled down a few drinks because this is not my kinda scene. It's too suffocating with the stench of cheap perfume mixed in with crap cologne. It's pretty hard to move when everybody's grinding and writhing under flashing neon lights. What kind of hell did I just step into?
Groups of people are starting to leave now--I guess Kevin Rudolf isn't rockin' it. They might have the right idea, time to kick this Popsicle stand.
