We need to get physical with those sl-oo-ts up front
Bruised, hungover, and felt up - I take my last bow and retire from college debate. Ironically, the same trio of adjectives applied to my first debate trip, Cornell '99, where I drank enough not to remember being a frat boy diversion in a scam to steal a keg, go sledding, and break a rib. What a good run it has been! McGill was a very good time and the panacea for leaving school and the January blues, or more fittingly, January whites. Like most debate stories - you have to be there or the stories seem absurd, unfunny, and nerdy - but trust me, many a tear was shed in laughter. Debating was really positive - the Canadian style differs from my typical American style in a few ways. For one, Canadian debate is much looser; you have the flexibility to refute ideas broadly instead of responding to every nuance of a multi-faceted argument, a plus in my book. The Canadians have slightly shorter speeches and enforce time limits, this is wonderfully refreshing as American speakers as of late tend to tack on upwards of three extra minutes to a speech and it just gets to be overwhelming and too much bunk. And also, Canadians run more fair debatable cases. Americans, ever concerned with winning the round instead of having a good debate, always run obscure and ridiculous topics - whereas our northern counterparts tend to engage mainstream issues more fairly. On Saturday morning I gave the best speech I've given all year and throughout the tournament we had several good rounds and there were lots of other debate highs - what else could you ask for? I think that the experience was positive for everyone.
I was shocked at the rampant Anti-Americanism slung around this weekend. Granted that our current foreign policy begs to be mocked and criticized, it was a real eye-opener as to what being American means around the world. Of course I've seen this kind of thing before but international pressure is intensified as of late - it was really bad. This experience was not all together positive (comfortable) but I think it was insightful.
As for the fun stuff, there was plenty of that folded in to three days of corporal abuse and competitive talking. It was a really good group of people - sans one, and of course, there is always one. This "one" is Ed, one of the creepier of the creepies I've ever met. He's okay most of the time - but when he's drunk, he's an asshole. He's the kind of guy who steals other people's blankets when it's time to go to bed, he wants to fight everyone, he'll take 30 mins to give you a lecture about brewing beer at home involving bleach and windex straight from his hometown in Arkansas, and then he'll go and do absurd things like fake a British accent and think he's
fooling people by saying that he attends Dartmouth or asks the Algerian cab driver where he can score drugs and prostitutes on the mean streets of Montreal. Now here are some of those weird debate stories that don't translate well, but you'll have to take my word on this, it's very funny. For no apparent reason apart from it's fun to say, we've taken to pronouncing the word "sluts" with a longer U sound, so it comes across in Midd debate speak as
"sloots." When you try, you'll be amazed how many times you can use this word in daily conversation. Standing in line for beer at the very posh Molson Room where most people broke out tuxedos and evening gowns and the Midd kids brushed dandruff and Dorito crumbs off hooded sweatshirts (one day I will actually get these photos on-line) Ed says to another guy on our team, in all seriousness, "
we need to get physical with those sloots up front." There is no doubt in my mind that he was actually ready to trample and beat down six girls in prom dresses so that he could get a draft beer sooner. When that party closed up around midnight we took to the city to hit up our favorite Irish pub. Sadly, the cab driver didn't know the address so we wandered on the icy streets (in very impractical heels) I took a digger and landed on my elbows, hard. We eventually made it to our destination where I bonded with one of my novices, Jeremy schooled the Midd Debate team in the fine art of single malt scotches and Irish whiskies, and Ed passed out in a wing-backed chair next to a fireplace. Some random guy actually poked up a few times with the fire poker. Then a bartender threw Ed out. Anyway, we stayed for a while, got belligerently drunk and louder, cigarettes were smoked, unrequited loves were mourned and hashed out, went back to hotel, woke up the neighbors, bought pizza with
Canada bucks and laughed fiercely, slept late, ate thai food, drove back in a snowstorm and here I am, tired but happy.
Jeremy gave me a very nice toast at the Molson Room, I gave my last speech for the foreseeable future (a cameo at Yale not withstanding), and I think I am ready to turn debate into one of those things that meant the world to me for a defined period in the past. It can sit on a very noble shelf next to field hockey practices at sundown, poetry readings, and my thesis. The end finally comes - a quick four years later - countless arguments, sleepovers, car trips, miles, and Edwin dollars later.
In related news, this time next week I'll be home for good.
posted by lmjasinski at 10:48 PM
