The time has come, you guys. We are responsible interns (or proved ourselves to be responsible interns), and Devin, Imani, and I took charge of a Write-In.
There’s something magical about coming into a familiar place at an off time. It’s sort of like seeing your school at night, after the homecoming dance or after a parent-teacher night, when all of the teachers and students aren’t there.
I don’t know. To me it’s kind of cool.
Stop it, Devin. I know you’re making fun of me now.
Anyways, the phones weren’t ringing, which is always nice and calm. That might be it. And with everyone’s desk without their owner, it was the ultimate time to cosplay as Gotham’s Best Office Workers.
It’s uncanny isn’t it?
Can someone say Oscar?
So we were in charge of the Write-In, and by “in charge” one of our tasks was signing people in and ushering them to their respectable rooms. This did not have to be a bigger deal than I made it, but I liked to think that I was playing matchmaker for two large rooms of people, almost as if I were Nick Fury, enrolling superheroes into the Avengers.
As Alex sat by, I debated which room of writers would win in a tug-o-war battle against one another.
“That one,” I told him rather decidedly, pointing at 1402. “It has more people. I gave them an unfair advantage.”
Alex considered this a moment before he replied, “Well, you don’t know the physicality of the other room.”
This was something I did not consider, and I bemoaned my failings as a Write-In Leader.
We also took care of the food. And by “took care of the food” I mean that we cut veggies for the platter and I made Alton Brown-esque commentary on technique and kitchen skill, until Devin asked if I was going to do that all night.
That made me laugh, but it also shut me up. Besides, I had trouble coming up with more techniques and ways to describe Devin’s wrists as she made cheese cubes.
Write-Ins are always fun because there’s the break where you can get to know fellow writers, and we had the bonus of playing a Tetris-Frogger type of game as we did so, refilling food trays and grabbing the spare Blondies on the table.
We met a lot of nice people, and Imani chatted about poetry with Britt for a while.
Did I mention the wine?
I felt like a fancy waiter or a rapper’s groupie in a music video, pouring vino into awaiting empty glasses, being called over for more.
All-in-all, successfully, fun Write-In. You should probably go to one.