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Friday, April 29, 2005/8:05 AM

Hmm apparently I'm on some sort of aliteration kick... sorry for that.

Anyway as promised I have returned to tell my tale of how my friends and I were able to listen to Mr. Rushdie last evening at UB (check out my ob-zurd-vations later today for what I thought of that place *rolling eyes*)

First off, Anne and I gathered every form of map we could get our hands on because we (mostly me) were certain it was going to be difficult to get there. Friends of mine had gotten lost the previous summer on the way to see some band play. I'm now realizing that I should never take these same people out on a camping trip. I'd rather not be responsible for them having to eat each other later down the line.

After easily finding the campus, our biggest problem was parking not because it was full (we actually found a very nice spot close to both a sidewalk AND the building) but rather because they had roped off a bunch of lots and had the WORST traffic directors ever. We weren't certain if we were allowed to park in certain lots. Our friend Dana threw all caution to the wind and drove through the VIP section defiantly parking there anyway. I'd like to say she did this to make a statement. In reality she missed the sign and nobody questioned her. Ah well... we'll just tell people she was trying to be a rebel.

Inside we found that we were indeed in the nosebleed section, but that didn't matter to our little band of SUNY Fredonia Alumni. The usher informed us that it was open seating (as long as you were in your section) and so we spotted some lovely seats right in the middle with a nice railing to lay our feet on. Of course this was quickly thwarted once the wicked b**tch of the West appeared demanding seat 7.

One seat.

We moved over 1 friggen seat so this old crone in black could have the 14.99 seat that she so painstakingly saved for. I work how many hours a week? I have how many jobs wench? 14.99 is actually A LOT to me. They said it was open seating, go suck an egg. Anyway to avoid an arguement we moved to a completely different area once another friend appeared inviting us to sit with his group. Other than my lack of leg room I have to say I was MUCH happier away from the evil pouty wench. Oh and here's the best part, Miss Snootypants was probably 60. Nice, lady I'm glad age as taught you manners.

Anyway Salman came out spoke for about an hour on pretty much everything from his life under a fatwa (no idea if i spell that right) to how much he hated the Davinci (sp?) Code, to his current assesment that we Americans cannot live in fear and allow our government to take away the liberties which make us great (Nearly broke my hand clapping over that one).
All in all it was a great night. I'd do it again in a heartbeat and I'm so glad that i saw him in person (even if he was a tinnie tiny little speck). Next on the list: Chucky Boy (Palahniuk author of Fight Club).

Oh and Anne and I got home just fine. I really am worried about my friends that got lost last year. Not sure if we should let them run loose in the new Wal-mart once it's up... we may never see them again.








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