There were a few surprises awaiting me upon arrival in Nashville. Not the helpful Ghanaian cab driver -- "The food at the hotel is overpriced. There's a liquor store two blocks over there and you can just take things back to your room." How did he know just from looking at me that I was the type of guest who was likely to want to make bulk purchases of alcohol? Like every other airport cabbie in town he'd been ferrying hundreds of chess kids here to the gigantic Gaylord Opryland Convention Center, which has more rooms than Johnny Cash had black shirts.
The first surprise was being told at check-in to wait for the "Celebrity Services" concierge to come attend to my every need. Other than actually getting a room, mind you, since that wasn't ready yet. But I guess there is some celebrity spillover from Garry since I'm here as part of his "delegation." I'm hoping to figure out how exactly to leverage this status other than by making lovely VIP concierges with adorable southern accents appear at will. Which isn't bad, I suppose. My room is nice, but it's good to be the king. Garry's suite is big enough to swallow entire hotels I've stayed in with room to spare. (USCF Executive Director Bill Hall's suite is said to be the same. Not that there's anything wrong with that.) I suggested to Garry that I should move in to one of the distant regions of his suite and we could sublet mine.
The next surprise could be called the Gaylord micro-climate. The massive roofed-in complex seems to contain several rivers and forests of types montane, coniferous, and possibly subcutaneous. I'm sure I can hear a waterfall from my little balcony.
So while I'm waiting for Dr. Livingstone to pop up through the canopy, there is quite a bit going on. The 11am (central time, I'd forgotten) opening ceremony is at the Grand Ole Opry itself, one of the most famous venues in the music world. Garry is going to speak for a few minutes, along with the astronaut who played chess from space and a honcho from the University of Texas at Dallas, which provides scholarships and probably other things I'm entirely ignorant of. The capacity is 4300, but nobody seems sure how many people are going to schlep over there (it's a 10-minute walk, I think) to listen to remarks, announcements, and, who knows, maybe folkdancing. Would be a shame if there isn't any music.
"The next surprise could be called the Gaylord micro-climate. The massive roofed-in complex seems to contain several rivers and forests of types montane, coniferous, and possibly subcutaneous. I'm sure I can hear a waterfall from my little balcony."
Haha, when I stayed at the Gaylord in Dallas - it was the same way. Probably some gimmick of the hotel chain.
Yes, there are a couple of waterfalls inside the hotel.
The day before you arrived the entire hotel had to be evacuated because of a tornado (the desk clerk told me). Apparently there are huge underground tunnels there, too.
Garry pretty much nailed it at the opening ceremony when he said the worst part of the tournament was...the opening ceremony. USCF officials bloviated and patted themselves on the back (sometimes twice) while everyone was waiting for a seemingly endless amount of time for Kasparov to speak.
J.A. Topfke
...wow.
That is so lucky!
For you fellow non-Americans:
bloviate: to orate verbosely and windily. What a pretty verb.
This blog is nothing of not educational.
chessy, is it evident that the word is pejorative, too? Over the past 10 years or so, 'bloviate' has been used in a negative sense for politicians, religious leaders and experts who cannot give a concise answer when an extended space-filler will do. To bloviate is analogous to "bs-ing" to fill space in a written paper. People who bloviate are inconsiderately imposing their long-winded exhortation on an audience who'd rather that they just get to the point and then get off the stage.
Sure it is, tj, "windy" and "verbose" being uncomplimentary. The last unknown American word I saw was "fink", also pretty, I must get a book of uniquely American words and expressions.