Conferences. I attend an educational conference on Monday. In the world of education, this can either be a "Get out of jail FREE" card or the Kiss of Near-Death. The conference itself is somewhat unexciting. It consists of sitting in a chair for six hours and doing a brief role-play Socratic seminar. Of course, my re-writing of the state-regulated test question doesn't help my case, either. I mean, seriously. Who wants to finish a boring story? Isn't the Zombie Apocalypse a better interpretation? I certainly think so, therefore the sample story/essay question morphs from a lovely period piece into the Time Warp dance number, take two.
Anyway, conference aside, the best part is my compatriot. We arrive at the conference very early because I miscalculate both the distance and the traffic patterns. I am driving, and the only place to park is a sketchy, super creepy, very low-ceiling parking garage. My cohort doesn't like elevators (and neither do I after being stuck at one while 9 months pregnant a couple of decades ago), so we walk up five industrial flights of stairs, which is like ten regular flights. It's our exercise for the day, so it's a good start.
We bond with the presenter (being so damn early, thanks to my bad judgement) for a while, then promptly begin arguing with her about statistics once the class starts. This continues until lunchtime, when pizza and salad is provided for us. This is all wonderful, except for the fact that we are stuck in this small room for hours and hours and hours. With the exception of the view (an impressive center atrium) from outside the shared ladies' room, it's kind of like being incarcerated for the day.
The walk back down to the car seems strangely longer than our ascent. Even when we see the car in the light of day that shines through the garage walls, the concrete parking area is still super-creeping us out. We leave early but hang out and chat until late. We are not the best at time-management.
Other than the Zombie Apocalypse, though, it's a perfect day.
