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Newsgroups: alt.folklore.urban
Subject: Official Report of AFU East III
From: joltes@husc7.harvard.edu (Richard Joltes)
Date: 28 Apr 1994 16:39:41 GMT

The Official (Online) Record of AFU East III, April 27, 1994

Scribe: Dick "who, me?" Joltes

Sitting in my office at 5:45, I was wondering whether the directions I'd provided to our Guest of Honor, Ray "the ex-ex" Depew, to get from Logan Airport to the Hahvahd Science Center were accurate enough. I had visions of receiving a phone call from Ray, who would tell me that he was in downtown Roxbury at a pay phone, and that three large guys named Leroy were at the next phone muttering something about "fresh meat." My fears were groundless, however, and Ray soon arrived at my door, looking haggard from the drive but happy that he'd found the place. Perhaps tatooing the map on the inside of his eyelids had helped after all.

Since we were waiting for the arrival of Lurker_1 (Ken "who are these guys?" Leonard) anyway, we soon lapsed into discussions of the street layout, or lack thereof, of Boston's downtown area. Ray's jaw dropped when I told him that local hills were actually *cut down* during the early 1800s to fill in the Back Bay area, which became the only place in Boston with 90 degreeoriented streets. The legendary cow paths were discussed as well. Then we heard a knock on the door, and Lurker_1 entered and was introduced to Ray.

By this point it was nearly 6:45, so we decided to head for the Wursthaus. Then we discovered that Boston's first thunderstorm of the season was in progress outside, so we wisely returned to my office for a few minutes to wait it out and discuss ULs, HP workstations, Spam, and Bill Nelson's beard.

The rain over (or so we thought) we once again ventured forth and arrived at the restaurant several minutes later. Of course, the rain began again when we were halfway there, and only Ray had an umbrella, so the rest of the party was a bit soggy by the time we arrived.

"Shergold party" I said to the maitre'd, a crusty looking fellow who wore no Lederhosen despite the fact that the restaurant sported a German motif. He didn't even have an accent, and I felt somewhat cheated. He pointed us to the padded room at the top of the stairs, where smoke and mirrors obscured the activities of a large number of people. "There must be some mistake," said I. "That looks like the A.S.B. crew..." The maitre'd acknowledged his mistake, and soon we entered a room containing suspicious characters seated at a long table. One look at the gator hiding beneath the table told me that we'd found the right crew, and that harvee was already chewing on the table legs. Introductions were made all around, and we found that our stalwart band included:

Barry Goldstein         Jean-Marc Rocher        Ny Martin       little gator
Mr. Gator               Harvee, and fnord       Peter Cheimets  Ken Leonard
moi (me, myself, I)     Doug White              Jean-Marc Chandonia
Peter D. Smith          Ray D.                  Lee Rudolph     Kibo 

There were also two other lurkers who managed to remain concealed behind the potted palms for the entire evening. Their identities remain a mystery.

Our stalwart waiter was miffed by our attempts to remain as one long tablecrew, since we moved his carefully-arranged facilities around with glee. He later deserted us and went home to watch "Melrose Place." More's the pity.

Once seated, with food on the way, the discussion turned to ULs, creation thereof, and the assembling of the Mega-UL of all time, incorporating nearly 20 disparate threads. Sadly, we didn't write it down, but I'm sure it will surface in some shopping mall in the near future. Harvee and fnord milled around to meet everyone, and gator's "Not Good Enough for Alt.Tasteless" photos were circulated for general approval, though we were much worried that we were violating some sort of laws by viewing them in a public place.

The two Jean-Marcs commented that neither had ever met *another* of their kind, ever, and they were warned to keep far apart to avoid the potential anti-matter implosion that might result from physical contact.

Kibo passed around his new "Kibo Inside" stickers, which looked exactly like the infamous logo! We congratulated him on his efforts.

The creation of alt.folklore.suburban was discussed. It was generally agreed that the group was "nice but boring" and that we were happy in our cozy little home. Random comments about "silicon plated dictators with delusions of godhood" were made, but were not pointed at anyone in the room.

But wait! Where was splinter? The time was getting late and he'd still not made an appearance. Was he grounded by the storm, still in Ct., bewailing having to miss the Great Convocation??? We continued eating and hoped he would show. Suddenly he bounded in from the rain, resplendent in his "Rad Rat" T-shirt, Old Hat, and rented lederhosen. Tucked under his arm was the official AFU East flag, which was signed by all (even harvee).

Later on, the bill was presented. It was passed around the table, and cash was passed to me as people mentally tallied the damage to their wallets. When the calculations were complete, the unthinkable had happened. The amount returned to me was *exactly* two-fifty short of the tally on the bill (I am *not* making this up) and a hush fell over the room as we realized the implications of this. Later, the earth split open and the entrails of a cow were found tied in square knots. We must mull upon these portents...

Later, after the requisite photos were taken and people departed for their homes, I escorted Ray and Ken past the Science Center, describing the famous "it looks like a Polaroid camera" UL. Ray claimed it was "visually" true since the building *does* look remarkably like one. Soon we departed, and the evening ended (far too soon for moi). Maybe we'll have another one this Summer.

By my keyboard, this 28th day of April, 1994

Dick "boy are my fingers tired" Joltes