After the work of Cold wars, I convinced Alan Spencer that he simply had to go to Rochester for Simcon. It will be a short easy trip and had I got us a deal on air fare!!! We just have to stop over in JFK in New York City....

We meet at the airport and have the situation accurately described for us by a Marine embassy guard. "Trans World Express (TWE) has gone to stealth aircraft". Though it is 15 minutes after our scheduled takeoff time, there still is no aircraft. I ask the clerk; once the plane arrives, how long will it all take? "5 minutes Sir, to fuel, load, board and takeoff. Now please sit down and stop blocking the aisle". I torment Alan by telling Diane we are not going to Rochester but Europe. She being reasonable says "do it and die".

Forty five minutes later, we are winging our way to Rochester. I reach up to turn on the reading lamp and it falls off in my hand. Alan and I look at each other and he says "don't touch anything else Jamie". I order a drink. They are out of bourbon, scotch and have only two vodka's left. I buy Alan a drink to calm his nerves and we start talking about all the plane wrecks we have read about. One of the other passengers volunteers that the most unusual crash he had heard of occurred in India when the passengers had cooked their food in the aisles with kerosene stoves. All agree, no one that dumb deserves to make it. We land in New York City and come through gate 44 into the terminal.

I make for the bathroom. Ten minutes later, Alan goes. When he comes out he has this strange look on his face. "Was there a..." he begins. I interrupt "so he was still there huh? Figured I let you experience that for yourself". "Was he just staring at the wall and making that sound?" asks Alan. Yep I reply. Fifty minutes later the guy emerges from the bathroom. "At least we will get away from him when we leave the terminal" says Alan. During this time, Alan and I make a discovery; not only are cokes $4.50, but the monitors do not work and someone has put cigarettes out in the water fountains. We start the first chorus of 'I love New York'.

We soon notice that all TWE flights arrive and depart through gate 44; sometimes two or three at once. "How do they keep it straight," I ask Alan. "I don't know" he replies. They don't either. We see several people who are claiming to have been boarded on the wrong plane and their real flight has left. Before this can be concluded, we are boarded onto a bus. The bus moves a total of 15 feet in 30 minutes. Two priests tell us the last time they flew TWE the plane left without its passengers. We are now told to disembark the bus. The plane is actually closer to the terminal than to the bus. We figure this was some ploy to prevent the flight from being counted as late. We get in our seats and look up at the same time. The guy from the bathroom is sitting right in front of Alan.

I tap one of the priests on the shoulder. "Excuse me, do you smell something?" I ask. "Yeah" he says, "IT SMELLS LIKE KEROSENE'. "We thought so too, but if you worry about it, we don't have too" says I.

"Air India" says Alan. I go to turn on the light and there are no glass covers, just naked bulbs. Alan wags his finger and says do not touch. Again, there is no bourbon, scotch nor vodka. We land in Rochester about 90 minutes late and Terry kindly picks us up.

We get to his house and I finally get to meet his family. One daughter cruises in and out, sort of like a whirlwind. "You will get used to that" says he wisely. But my daughter is only 3 I think. Pat Gore is a saint. She stays up with her husband's crazy friends as they tell stories about people she does not know and Terry admits she used to beat his socks oft. Alan and I stay up after the Gores depart, enviously discussing the space Terry has and trying to figure out how to take his library with us when we leave. "He has more books than you" says Alan rubbing it in.

After about 5 hours of sleep, Alan and I wait for Terry to get up. We have coffee and doughnuts and it is off to the WARS. Like little kids we soak each other for information. Terry and I figure that we will probably finally play each other as he has Pre-Feudal Scots and I have my Scots Isles/Highlanders.The sun is out and all is right with the world. Everyone has to wait as the dastardly (this is foreshadowing) Canadians are late.

However my first opponent, while a Terry, is Terry Briggs. Terry is one of my regular customers and he has his girlfriend with him. Which is lucky, as Terry is big ... and in good shape. Can't harass him too such ...I offer his and his escort a drink of Glenlivet which they accept. At 9:30 A.M., it provides a wars kick. I figure he will have one of my armies as we are to have historical opponents in the first round. Instead the knave plays Japanese. We set up. There are 4 woods, an orchard and a river on his side of the table. The only terrain on my side is an exquisite village he hand built. we roll and have mist. I roll and Forbes is unreliable and Cameron is cautious.

My son advance thru the swirling mist and skillfully find an ambush by walking into it. When the fight is over, Terry's unit is wiped out and my victors have one fatigue point left. They hide in the woods. I catch another unit in the confusion but the third unit gets behind my lines. He had intelligently lined up behind the river which was a 6 in fordability. Needless to say, I start to come across. As his flank is exposed, Terry brings up his ashigaru with their 2HCT. One unit of Islessen slam into the ashigaru and another Isles unit hit his first unit in the flank. Unit one holds from the flank charge but is disordered. The ashigaru rout. Units 1,2 and 4 hold but 3 blows its waiver.

The MacLachlans storm across the river and break the shaken unit. Unit one,though shieldless and disordered, has the pluses for the river and defending an obstacle. Unit one holds from the attack but blow their waiver when unit 3 breaks. Unit 2 also breaks. Terry had made only one mistake and that was not to buy clear terrain with close order foot. Though the end result was disastrous, the game was evenly played. Terry also had the weather gods on his side. Every time the weather could hurt se it was there and every tine it could hurt his it disappeared. 

Feeling cocky, I was ready for my next opponent, one of the dastardly Canadians. I offered Bruce a drink and we toasted each other. After all, playing the Scots Isles or the Ancient Britons in a tournament takes a certain breed of cat. I cheat. I have two scotches to his one which really means I am up three to one. We play this game in a blinding snow storm. Forbes is cautious. Cautious to the tune of failing four separate prompts to attack. We used his failures to keep track of what bound we were in. Bruce gutsily flank marches half of his army and they come on right where he wants when he wants. Unfortunately he surrounds the Irish. The Irish survive 4 morale checks and basically rout the flanking command, carryinq the day with some support from the MacLachlans. The more I think about it, the more I realize the better general lost. I think the real reason why I won is that Bruce was wearing a fighting Irish sweat shirt and had inspired the Irish.

The third and final game of the day is against one of "those Byzantine" players. You know, the guys that play regular armies. He shows up with his lovely wife who is a cross between Meryl Streep and Cissy Spassick. She is reading Dorothy Parker, one of my favorites, and she, like Dorothy, has a razor wit. She reads the quote " you can tell what God thinks of money by seeing who he gave it too". I find it unbelievable she has stayed at the convention for the whole day. The Cameron command goes squirrelly against their namesake. They are unreliable and roll 14 "ones" or "sixes" on 15 tosses when marching in the woods.. He misunderstands the size of the board and starts to get too serious. Both his wife and I start to needle him to calm down. Her whiskey is spilt and she fries him with a look. I beg her to let me have the whiskey soaked napkin. She agrees but only after she is through with it. He will not come in and I will not come out to face his floating gun platforms. We agree to fight a commanders duel but are forbidden by the umpire. The only way I have to goose him is to attack with the command element he painted. So Cameron, heavy infantry, comes out of the woods and attacks a 6 man EHK wedge and loses. My opponent and I tie, but I perversely win as Cameron had to rout Cameron.

We go back to Terry's and Pat has left me a lovely poem which I promptly claim as mine. Terry forces me to give it back as Pat needs it for her thesis but he promises to send a copy. Sure. We start trying to figure out the new scoring system and give up. It seems to be as screwy as the others, just more complicated. And if one of your opponents quit, you are screwed. We guess, however, that all of us have a shot at the title. After comparing notes and drinking more beer, Terry begs off and goes to bed. After all, he is the senior of the group by five years ... and a decade older than Alan.

Alan and I disappear downstairs. Twenty minutes later, Terry reappears and we drink more beer. Alan figures he is "wired". I think he wanted to keep an eye on his books. At two we hit the sack and get up at six. I simply "know" I am going to play Terry. He has the Pre-Feudals and I have Scots Isles/Highlands. I treat for breakfast; doughnuts and coke. It starts to rain and gets downright cold. The hall is locked and I volunteer to leave the warmth of our hallway to find a way in.

I am successful and we are all in half an hour before the place officially opens. I receive another shock when I discover that I am in first place. Do I finally get an historical opponent??? NO! I get that dastardly nor do well Canadian Brian Lewis and his Teutonic Knights. We discuss the matter and figure the Touts are in the pay of the English who hate both the Germans and the Scots. I offer Brian a Glenlivet. He says A-sure but saves it for later. A bad sign. He has his guard up. No one I know has played Brian but Bruce has obviously given him a detailed scouting report on me and my boys ... right down to the discipline problems I have been having with Cameron and Forbes.

The game is limited to three hours so we can catch our flight. He starts to probe. My flank march arrives and I come out of the woods. His •manly" knights have been to cotillion as they begin to dance away from these peasants on foot. I begin to harass him and he agrees they are girly men.I rout his peasants and am up a quick 250+ points. Someone stops by and quietly asks me why I don't retreat back into the woods and guarantee myself the victory. Obviously a mental defective, I patiently explain I am here to fight and it Dry is willing to come in, I as willing to come out.

To teach the Camerons a lesson, I allow them to be hit in the flank by light infantry. Brian comments that my actions are typically Scottish. He should know with a name like Lewis.. . Without going into the gory details, the left wing collapses because of the Camerons being pinned. Cameron is destroyed by two Prussian irregular "d" units. On the other flank Forbes and his son have to survive 4 morale checks. They roll three ones out of tour tries. The remaining Isles unit is forced into retreat and retires off the board. Forbes final failure is when he is charged by irregular "d" Livionian LC/B. The second command goes into retreat. I know how Bruce felt. I did what I wanted but luck rested with my opponent. then I realize something. All this meant was that the MacLachlans and the Irish would not have to share their booty with their unreliable henchmen as they had all been destroyed. How clever. How delightfully devious old MacLachlan. He even foxed me!

I clip the Cameron and Forbes standards and flip then to Brian and tell him to expect to see them on the bases of the victorious units. Irregular "D"s says Brian, yech. I think he better figure a way to up grade them.

Even though his knights dance and the good guys lost, I had a great time and believe that is the way a finals game should be played.

Flight Home

Terry gets us out to the airport. It is still snowing and I insist on eating at Mac's. Alan well on his way to zombiedom follows. We fly to JFK and the airline still has no real liquor. We land and go through gate 44. I missed the sign that said "Abandon all hope ye who enter here," but I know it must be there. The first thing we hear is the flight is delayed. Next we hear luggage will be dumped on carousel 5. Then the flight to Pittsburgh will take 6 hours and as the Ottawa flight is crowded, passengers will be limited to one carry on which they must place in the seat in front of them. Alan is now wild-eyed. I know he is bad off as he is beginning to do what I tell him.

Our flight becomes later and later. We are loaded into a bus and then off loaded and sent back into the terminal. People try breaking line and I find myself almost in a fistfight for the first time in nearly a decade. Passengers begin calling TWE the "third world experiment". At 9 P.M. our flight is cancelled and we arc told to go pick up our luggage and go to the ticket counter. To say the lines are slow would be kind. At 11:30 we get re-booked and are told to wait out front for transportation. Meanwhile the luggage handlers have quit at 11 with the flight half unloaded. Alan is lucky. He does not get his luggage. Mine comes in with 2 to 3 inches of snow on top of it. Apparently it had been left out on the tarmac. The cardboard box I have my terrain and unpainted lead in is soaked.

Rather than haul it off I ask if I can leave it but am told the airline would not be responsible as the area is not secure. I try to return to the ticket counter and am told I must leave the building to do so. When I try to re-enter I have to go through security and you all know what lead does to x-ray machines. I wait outside for Alan. We are outside waiting for our cab for over 90 minutes. Meanwhile TWE brings an older woman with a broken leg out in a wheelchair and drops her off at the curb. She is desperate to find her traveling companions.

Alan covers her with his jacket and I go off to find her friends. I tell TWE. We never see them. We are treated to a fight between two cabbies. We start singing "I love N.Y.". I get hold of my wife who has been trying to get TWA or TWE in Dulles. But they intelligently are not answering their phones. One hotel bus refuses to pick up his passengers until he is threatened.

When our bus finally arrives the driver slams my tool box down so hard he pops the latches, break men free from their bases, break bases and pop the magnets from the box.I am dumbfounded or I think I would have killed him. Alan is already on the bus and looks bad as he has been standing round without a jacket. While we get our hotel room we hear the clerks mention that 13 rooms are double booked. Luckily we are not one of those rooms. We get sandwiches at $11.00 a sandwich and learn of the La Guardia accident.

We go back to the room and Alan discovers hair, dirt and excrement in the tub. We sleep for about 4 hours and make for the airport. Luck is kind and we get a great cabbie. When we get to TWE, they refuse to take the box saying it looks damaged. Alan starts twitching hoping for a fight. While I am arguing, Alan finds out that the 7:49 o'clock flights are cancelled and everybody is on a new 8:30 flight that will first go to Baltimore and then on to Dulles. My argument ends with the supervisor telling me I have a choice; I can sign a waiver which has no explanation but she verbally assures me doesn't do anything or I can miss my flight. And if I miss my flight, it would be my fault and the airline would not have any further responsibilities towards me.

I sign but cross out all the waiver. Let the lawyers figure this out. We make gate 44 in time by sprinting. We load onto a bus. The driver has no idea where he is going and drives round the tarmac searching for the right plane. Finally he finds the right plane and we end up in a traffic jam. We load. The flight is overbooked and they take some poor sod off.

As we taxi there is a knock at the door. The Stew checks and it is the ground crew with luggage. The plane is stopped and the luggage is loaded. We hope the luggage belongs to people on the flight. Five minutes later there is another knock and more luggage. The Stew refuses to open as there is no more room and it is too late to load. She and the ground crew exchange words.

The pilot meanwhile announces there are mechanical problems. They send out the garbage truck to repair the plane. Another passenger begins to take photographs. The Stew wants to let one of the mechanics on but cannot open the plane as the ground crew has placed the unwanted luggage against the plane. At 10:30 the pilot apologizes for TWE's less than stellar performance and we are unloaded. The Stew holds out free drinks. I grab three but share with Alan.

Still no real liquor, but hey this was free. Back in the terminal we discover old friends. Some of the passengers had been sent to a TWA jet which was rammed by a baggage truck and now incapable of flying. Alan and I have only had a stale sandwich in the last 20 hours. I go to the front and convince the airline that we need to be fed. TWE agrees and Alan and I begin to hunt for all in our party. Now there are eleven of us. We concoct a plan. While one in the party talks to United and Alan guards my back, I request to be put on the United plane. TWE denies there is such a flight. I give them the flight number. They find the flight, but advise it is full. I tell them how many empty seats are on the plane. TWE spots my associate on the phone. He is asked to hang up the phone and he refuses. TWE surrenders and books all eleven of us on the United flight. Meanwhile the photographer at my request takes a shot of us in front of the Brussels/Moscow terminal. I had not forgotten Diane...

We make it to La Guardia and have a photo in front of the Chicago window. Ann Opperman of United takes care of us. I finally tell Alan the purpose of the photos and he says you would wouldn't you. I agree that it is a real possibility and point out that my friend Perry Gray is currently stationed in Germany and could be trusted to find a woman to send a perfumed soaked card to Alan from say Sweden. We begin to board the United flight when the US Air wreckage is towed passed our plane. That puts everything in perspective. We arrive at Dulles over 24 hours late.

When we try to find our bags they are nowhere to be seen. Instead we find a guy named Charlie Ellis who works for United. Charlie mystifies us by saying the buck stops with him and he personally is responsible for our luggage. At 1:00 A.M. my luggage is delivered to my house, 35 miles from the airport. I am so happy I could kiss those United employees but Charlie is not my type and Ann is trapped in New York. Alan springs for dinner for the women and ourselves. And I remind him, "Alan, I told you it would be a simple easy jaunt to wow York..."

Okay, Mew York is no fun - hell, I haven't been to the Big Apple since the 1963 World's Fair! Jamie, next year, DRIVE UP! It's quicker (7 hours instead of 24 spent in airports), more fun (lots of time for friendly chatter en routs... I bet Alan can't wait), and faster on the system... no fistfights. Personally, I haven't been on plane since Pat and I took the kids (babies at the time) to Florida 1971. Last year we drove to Florida in a day and a half, almost beating Jamie's time to D.C. by air. 

As far as Simcon went, that rascal Brian Lewis again humbled us Americans (he took me out in a tie-breaker at last year's tourney). He's just lucky I didn't get to play him this year. Noooo... I had to fight Seleucids (again!) Hey Scott, what is this? Every year r have to face these guys in the fianl round. The only gratifying thing about this is that r managed to take out Greg Hauser, as well as myself, from the winner's circle. Wait a minute, that doesn't sound very smart! Scott's scoring system is interesting, but one detriment is that if your initial opponent quits after one game (as mine did), there is no way you can get enough points to win. Perhaps giving a token 2 1/2 or 3 points to the "victims" of this situation would remedy it. Just a thought. I do wish to thank Scott for coming up again this year to run the WNG tourney for me. We had gasers from California, Florida, Virginia, N.Y.C., Ottawa and Hamilton, Buffalo, Olean and Syracuse. Not bad for a "regional" tournament. Next year r expect we will break the thirty plus barrier.]