Greeting fellow Downers,
I have at last returned from the blistering heat of central Europe only to smolder in the swamp-like sauna of late August in central Virginia. But here there is air conditioning!
PART ONE: Squatter’s Eviction
As others have already reported, four members of the Barrow-Downs administration team conspired to meet on 19 August 2003 in Germany’s oldest city, Trier, a beautiful and ancient community near the border of Luxembourg, and once the seat of the Holy Roman Empire. The venue was chosen mostly because of its central location to all of the participants, but I particularly supported it because it was only 30 minutes down the Autobahn from where I was spending my vacation. Though I traveled 4,000 miles to get to Germany, I only had to drive 60 kilometers to find my friends.
Our journey actually began on the afternoon of the 18th, when I found myself racing through familiar countryside on a quest to rescue a certain Squatter from the bowels of a great flying beast. The winged creature, for it was no Balrog, had landed at Hahn Airport, formerly Hahn Air Base and property of the United States Air Force but now an auxiliary airport for the massive Frankfurter Flughafen. I had worked on Hahn for three years back in the 80s, but it had changed a lot since the Americans had given it back to the Germans. Still, it was not difficult to spot the beast’s lair, and as I waited stealthily outside it’s great sliding doors, I knew that soon my chance would come to snatch the Englishman from within.
Squatter must not have pleased the dragon’s palate, for he was ejected quicker than I could raise my “Lord Etceteron” sign. Though we had never met in person, I knew him immediately by his
long, flowing locks and stylish hat (though he would have been easier to recognize if had been wearing his
nursing gear). He knew me as well as soon as I approached and gave the super-secret and severely-sneaky BD hi-sign. With greetings out of the way, we proceeded to my car, which, in typical island fashion, Squatter attempted to enter from the wrong side.
I wonder if Númenoreans also drove on the left-hand side of the road.
PART TWO: The Quest for Holey Sharkey
Finally free of the flying menace, Squatter and I preceded to drive with all haste toward the aforementioned Trier where we hoped to purchase Sharkû’s freedom from a train of Dwarven merchants. The Old Man had been sitting in a boxcar for many hours, and we were determined to rescue him from his captivity. As expeditiously as possible, we two sped through the hilly Hunsrück (Dog’s Back) region under the shadow of monstrously large, power generating windmills, across the Mosel wine country, and down into the ancient city where Sharkey would soon come.
Typically (for me), we were very early in arriving to the station, so we dropped by the nearest pub for a glass of Germany’s finest product – beer. Unbeknownst to us when we chose the establishment, but certainly not a problem as far as the two of us were concerned, the business next to the bar turned out to be Germany’s second finest product – the Eros Center. Rest assured that we did not let ourselves stray. We had a mission, and we stuck to it (at least once the beer was gone).
Back at the station, after some serious bartering for which neither of us was well prepared, we procured Sharkû’s release and he was left by the Dwarves wandering aimlessly about the platform. Neither of us knew Sharkey’s true appearance, so, in order to spot him we decided to use the
Chat Wights Page as our visual reference. Surprisingly, there were no lederhosen-clad, accordian-playing Bavarians to be seen, so we resorted to our only other possible picture of the Old Man -
Barrow Comics. Though the sneaky orc-lover had his hair tied back, we found him!
Ha! Take that, Trebeck! The day is mine!
With both barrow-dudes in my chariot, we quickly left Trier and drove into the beautiful Eifel region of Germany. There, nestled among high hills where the great Eagles made their homes, lay the quaint village of Kinderbeuern, which we proceeded to plunder and pillage for several long hours. Again and again we raided their cellars, emptying countless Stubis (,33’ bottles) and consuming mass quantities of roasted flesh. Squatter and I did so well in our reveling that the Old Man branded us with the White Hand and gave us incredible magic rings that change color with the wearer’s mood. Wow! (I made that last part about the rings up.)
Our main topics of the night were:
1) Celebrity Jeopardy
2) The Young Ones
3) Who we’d most like to IP ban
4) Who we most enjoyed banning
5) Beer and bratwursts
6) Middle-earth
At last, after such a long and adventurous day, we decided to take a break in preparation for
The Meeting.
PART THREE: The Four Downketeers
The morning of the 19th arrived at last, and we three arose to meet the day. Squatter had put on his head a tall shapeless felt bag, which he called a hat (actually, it was the same hat as before), and Sharkû wore a robe of many colors (well, it was really a
black T-shirt .). Soon we found ourselves again in ancient Trier, but this time we sought out the crumbling ruins of the Porta Nigra where our tour guide awaited us. Sure enough, when we arrived at the black gates that had stood for more than 2000 years we found what we were looking for – Estelyn.
In no time at all (and for only 5.50 Euros each, what a bargain!), Esty
guided us through the city, showing us the many interesting architectural features of the Cathedral (where she helped herself to change found in the baptismal), Basilika (where she sang the “McDonald, KFC, Pizza Hut Song”), and Roman Baths (where she
led the procession to the inner tomb). It was in the latter that we were most comfortable, for they
resembled our beloved barrow.
Unexpectedly, Europe was experiencing an extreme heat wave during our meeting (41C / 100+ F), so, except for the clammy comfort of the tomb-like baths, we were hard pressed to find a suitable place for the official sit-down part of our meeting. Thanks to Esty’s sharp eye, we managed to spot another underground establishment, and preceded to sit, eat, talk, and laugh for a few hours, during which we discussed many things. Our main topics were:
1) Zones for Ops
2) REB, REB, and REB accompanied by bored sighs from the Old Man [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]
3) Bohemian poetry
4) Strongbad – Eru or enigma?
5) Various old television programs
6) Admin stuff too boring to repeat
7) Middle-earth
Eventually, all good things must end, so we returned to the Porta Nigra where we all awaited our rides. Mine was Mrs. Wight who had the pleasure of meeting Estelyn. She took Squatter, Sharkû, and I back to the valley where we repeated what we had done the previous evening. The next morning, Sharkey and Squatter returned to the train station and took off for destinations unknown (actually, they went to Heidelberg, but ‘destinations unknown’ sounded cooler).
PART FOUR: Impressions (in order of appearance)
SQUATTER: A fine fellow with an entire library stuffed under his hat. He has more quotes than an insurance agent, and every one of them it right on target. With such a wealth of information crammed into that cranium, it’s a wonder he doesn’t have a constant headache. He’s quick with a joke, some of which aren’t over my head. Squatter is a hilarious guy with a great sense of humor and a great ability for enjoyable conversation. We had a great time talking about a variety of topics.
SHARKEY: Noisy. Never stops talking. Always interrupting. The Old Man is a great thinker, and I still complain because his English is better than mine. True, his accent is slightly stronger than mine, but he still knows more about my language than most people I know do. Intelligent and funny, and always ready to do a Sean Connery impression. Sharkû is a lot of fun to hang out with.
ESTELYN: A natural organizer. Give her and idea and she’ll have it flowcharted in 5 minutes and a proposal in triplicate on your desk by morning. With grace and ease, she managed to lead us three bumbling trolls through a bustling European city without losing even one of us. Esty is incredibly nice and extremely smart and it was a pleasure to finally have a real conversation (more than one, actually) with her. A lot of fun!
PART FIVE: Back to the Barrow
As always, vacations go too fast, as do meetings with friends. Seven or eight hours was not nearly enough time to spend with such grand company, and I wish that we could get together on a regular basis, but it’s a big world, and we’re just little hobbits after all.