What happens in the overflow room...

...doesn't necessarily stay in the overflow room.

Some descriptions I wrote in moments of inspiration (or boredom)

Friday 03/04/11. FEE. The long, arduous talk before debate breaks.



Someone's already fallen asleep. Aaron's managing to multitask - text, look like he doesn't care, and provide running commentary on how the speaker has just offended all the Armenians and Catholics in the room.

There's a game of cards being played by the young TPers and a timer, going on in very loud whispers, which often gain the disapproving glares of one of the homeschool moms.

Three of the "cool," disinterested debaters are, from the way that they are staring at Parry's laptop, watching a video of some kind. Benjamin with-the-long-last-name-that-sounds-like-Casablanca is on his laptop as well.

One guy, stretched out in the middle of the room like Cleopatra, only significantly less dignified, is doodling dragons.

Josh is standing, spastically wiggling the foot that's asleep - it would be discreet, if I wasn't right next to his foot.

Almost everyone has earbuds on, or is playing around with some handheld device, or both.

Several studious girls are...not paying attention to the lecture. They're studying.

One community judge is handing out brochures for Nyack College.

And I'm sitting here, writing scathing descriptions of them all. Obviously, no one's interested.



And here's a not-so-scathing description I wrote just before the final LD Round. Saturday. 03/05/11.

The excitement in the air is palpable.

Aaron, negative, sits at a table far too long for him, frowning and fiddling with his pen as he goes over his papers, which cover a meager third of the space. His eyes dart about the audience every few minutes.

Andrew, affirmative, has, in contrast, a thick white folder decorated liberally with neon sticky notes, a book (also with sticky notes), three waterbottles, and his case papers strewn across the entire table. He sits leaning back, his fingers steepled and his eyes staring forward into nowhere.

Now they are both standing in the middle, slightly closer to Aaron's table than Andrew's, discussing with animated faces, and hands in pockets. Andrew, with his mouth in a perpetual easygoing smile, nods energetically every few sentences, in concurrence with his striped dress shirt and hot pink tie - which is, in my opinion, a rather deplorable fashion decision.

Aaron doesn't smile. Despite the vibrant discussion, his eyes hold an intensity and worry not normal of a casual conversation. Except for his dress shirt, which is storm-cloud color, he is dressed entirely in black. The only bright point in his outfit is his collar-stay.

They're sitting again, now, Andrew in his Sherlock-style pose, and Aaron in nearly the same position, but with folded hands and closed eyes.

The judges have now entered the room, filing in behind the long, white table, into the row of identical dark wood chairs.

Behind them sit the eager and expectant audience, most of them debaters themselves, and many of them with notepads at the ready.

Everyone is now sitting, expecting, waiting. Soon they will be writing down, quoting, and hanging on to the every word of these two. And why?


Because we're debaters, that's why. And while we never come to a final conclusion, we always make getting there seem very interesting.