The Tacoma Bell SituationEverything was going perfectly, things were going better than expected like we use to say. I could wake up properly, take both quick trains to Paris airport in time under a beautiful sun, get checked in easily, and found my way to the best possible seat ever: nobody was behind me but the restroom, I was close to the window, and had no neighbor. How could you dream about a better 11-hour flight? I could watch three movies (
Bohemian Rhapsody,
John Wick 2 and
Solo: A Star Wars Story), enjoy a decent meal, and even arrive right in time, at around 1:30 PM, in Seattle – yeah, Seattle, because since I had booked my flights very lately as a surprise guest, I could not find any Paris to Denver one for a good price. Seattle was OK for me though: as a total Nirvana nerd, I had always wanted to visit that town once, so even if I couldn't make it to the city itself, the symbol behind it was really nice.

So, I had to take my suitcase back and to check it in again for the 3:25 flight to Denver. This is where bad things started to happen. Oh, I won't complain
that much about 3 of the 5 GTA V stickers missing from my suitcase and that would be gone forever; getting my luggage was an excellent first step, unfortunately followed by a list of cancellations for ALL flights from Seattle-Tacoma Airport to Denver International that afternoon. Getting in touch with Joe made me realize that a massive snowstorm had totally paralyzed the main airport of Colorado the day I had to go there (and I also realized that I was not alone, because Clark also had to land in Denver and couldn't either, being moved to… Las Vegas, lol). So I could do absolutely nothing but waiting until the day after for that goddamn snow to get the fuck out of Denver and let me meet my friends later than expected. We were supposed to leave Joe's place on Thursday morning around 9 AM: in the best possible case now, Clark and I would be in Denver by the very end of the morning, or more likely, the beginning of the afternoon.
I took care of being given a new flight ticket for the next morning (7:59 AM, Seattle time) and some kind of discount ticket for local hotels. Could have been worse. Well, was gonna be worse, but not before the next day. Chatting with a French workmate who knew Seattle and the Tacoma area pretty well helped me to choose a hotel that could fit with my price range, so I just had to get a Uber and meet a very friendly hotel lobby team telling me they were already full, but took care about calling every other hotel like theirs around until they found one who could welcome me – and they even drove me for free there, which was a good way to forget a bit how messy this journey had gone. I saw a Taco Bell on the road, I hadn't gone there since my trip to New York City in September, 2013, because we do not have a single one in Europe, and that was only a 20-minute walk from the hotel under a very non-Washington weather (I mean, sunny and without the shadow of any wind). I must confess Taco Bell went a bit worse than in my memories even if still OK, and when I went back to my hotel room it was probably 5 PM, so something like 1 AM in France, which meant I was awake for 20 hours. Time to go to bed, set the alarm to 5 AM, and have some fun watching the American TV channels. Bed and mattress adverts, Donald Trump, NFL, AirPod conspiracies, dubious lawyer adverts, NBA, Donald Trump again, some senator going racist, NASCAR, Donald Trump once again, and I think I fell asleep.
Oh, and the hotel corridor looked like the one in
Silent Hill’s dreadful
"playable teaser".

I did not dream about Donald Trump but about my ex girlfriend, which is technically not better (for the record, we were together when he was elected and I remember she woke me at 5 AM saying "Trump won, that's the end of the world"). But that bed was absolutely awesome, fortunately.
Of course, I woke up at something like fucking 1:15 AM. I remember I went on Discord to chat with Joe and Clark privately about those adventures, and on the SMK channel to see mostly Europeans in the morning. It was pretty logic for me to be on Discord at something which was probably 10 AM in France – after all, I still had to keep the secret for two big days, it would have been sad to make a stupid mistake so close to the finish line! I actually made a single one that I discovered three weeks after – I had disabled location on my tweets, but not on the FFSMK Twitter account, which I used once when in Tacoma for one single publication…
having the extremely awkward "From SeaTac, WA" attached to it. Funnily enough, that tweet was quoting Karel's bad quality PR video while having Lafungo playing Breath of the Wild on the TV close to him. Karel even answered it and could have just seen the detail of the tweet location but it looks he did not. Well, perhaps he could also have thought that was ScouB's, work, because he seemed to think he was gonna be a surprise guest, and he also has access to the FFSMK social media logins.

I arrived at Tacoma Airport way too early, because I didn't want to take any single risk. Checked in at 5:20 AM for a 7:59 flight, whatever: Denver, here I come! Oh, there's already a 1-hour delay, departure time is now set at 8:59. Three hours and a half to wait, well that's no big deal, my MacBook's fully charged, so is my Nintendo Switch, and I even have some work to do with this (the beginning of a complete walkthrough of some video game that I'm not supposed to display and/or tell about at this moment because of embargo issues, woops). So I play, I write, flight's delayed once again to 9:59 AM, then to 10:59, still because the weather conditions around Denver are said to be terrible. I eventually realize I have no specific seat on my ticket, which happens to be a stand-by one, which I didn't really know about, being not really familiar with planes and that kind of stuff. "You're on a waiting list", the Delta staff woman says to me, explaining all flights to Denver up to Saturday (!) are sold out because of yesterday's rampage. What the hell. So I'm pretty sure I'm gonna miss that one, which was delayed to 11:59 meanwhile by the way, and this happens indeed: they never call my name (it turns out I was #8 on their list). The next one leaves Denver at 1:20 PM, and this time, I'm #3 (so I need to try harder, eh), which gives a lot of hope.
The only good thing that happened between 11:59 and 1:20 was the McDonald's meal I ate, because I discovered some food I never had the opportunity to see in France, and because, you got it right, I was never called once again. Next flight was at 3:25 PM, which was actually the one I was supposed to take the day before. I never knew what my number was on the waiting list, they couldn't even check it. At that moment I started to think about buying a ticket to New Orleans and ask Matt to go after me (Matt and Eric were the two other knowing about me attending ASMKC in hiding), but I was eventually called, and the Delta guy tried to pronounce my name so badly I had to show him my boarding to pass and say "is that me you just called, lol?" (well, I didn't say "lol" but I could have). End of Chapter 1.
Sweet Home Colorado (and everything but Texas)Everything was going perfectly, things were going better than expected like we use to say. The airplane even arrived in Denver 25 minutes earlier than the estimated time, the (slightly fading) light of the day making me realize there still was a lot of snow and ice on the landing track. Which actually turned out to be another problem: the plane just could not drive to that safe spot where the door opens to help all the passengers walk into the airport. It took one hour and a half to make this possible, and of course, in the meanwhile, the sky had gone totally dark. I was close enough from the Denver International free wifi to try logging in and keeping Joe informed of what the hell was going on, but far enough not to be able to stay logged more than three seconds at best. I am absolutely not even joking.

I could finally meet Joe and hug strongly after all the crazy mess I had been going through on the last 30 hours. It was already 10 PM when we arrived at his place, we had to leave at something like 8 AM the day after, and if you remember well, I had waken up 19 hours ago once again, so I found much more interesting to share some beers with Joe, Clark and Vanessa (aka Nes) than to play some SMK for practice before going to bed. I would really arrive in Monroe on Saturday without having played SMK at all since last CDM, and without even being able to remember when my last NTSC session could have been. And, well, I absolutely did not give a single fuck. The upcoming road trip was everything I cared about, because my main goals were to enjoy myself with friends and visit thousands of miles of a country I could not say I really knew – NYC is not really representative of what the United States actually are!
We should actually have done this one day before, but whatever, we finally could go for a 15-hour drive from Littleton, Colorado (where the horrible events of Columbine happened 20 years ago already) to Pecan Plantation, Texas. The whole trip was gonna make us drive through Colorado and roads surrounded by beautiful mountains (including the Pikes Peak one!), then New Mexico and his desert-like landscapes, and finally Texas. I didn't know a lot about that final step, and I now understand why. There is absolutely nothing to know about this state. If that John Denver's full of shit, well let me say that John Dallas's full of nothing.

Prior to the trip, Joe warned both Clark and me about the emptiness we would have to face during roughly 6 or 7 hours, and I must admit he was not exaggerating. Texas, for its northern part at least, is a terrific flat land full of nothing on both sides of the road. Funnily enough, that wasn't even boring because we were frequently chatting about a lot of things, from movies to American vs. European comparaison, through music, Mario Kart meeting memories and other stuff of all kinds (*). I knew Joe and Clark were close friends but I also have been knowing the Man from Watford IRL for an entire decade know, and met Joe once at CDM, so I never felt isolated or anything wrong: I was really feeling as part of that legendary trip, which was obviously a very long and exhausting one, but always extremely nice to share together. I knew that was a good idea to go for such an endless ride with those guys.
(*)
Hah, and food, too. We discussed about food and we ate, of course. Shitloads of snacks and drinks bought all trip long in gas stations (which are the only kind of human interaction you can have in TX anyway), and Taco Bell again. We stopped at a Subway first (before starting to realize there were gonna be more minutes to wait than there are Subways all road long, which means A LOT), but eventually stopped at Taco Bell. It was really not good and Clark seemed to had the worst time there, ordering a "Mexican pizza" that just looked like post-CDM leftover cold pizza Drew would not even be OK to eat. Sorry bro.I absolutely do not remember a single thing during the two last hours, finally falling asleep and waking up very shortly around 11 PM before we arrived at Joe's parents, whose place is absolutely awesome and made me think Texas could be a good place to live for a couple seconds. Joe's Dad welcomed us with beers we could just not refuse, even if I really wanted to go to bed (we had to leave at 5 AM to make sure we'd arrive in Monroe in time!). I naively thought I would sleep during that morning trip, and of course I didn't, preferring to bully Clark all road long. He'd have been so alone on the back seats if I had not been part of it! By the way, Joe's random playlist worked very well since it brought "Africa" by Toto on the stereo a couple minutes before seeing the Welcome to Monroe sign. Singing this all along with Joe and Clark was definitely one of the hidden achievements of the list. Honorable mention to the unexpected "Careless Whisper" metal cover that instantly brought into my mind the hot and wet memories of a sexy gay dance between Karel and I in Alphen last summer.
Halfway between a cock meet and the worst DIY British haircut of all timeDiscovering Monroe was pretty interesting because, from my personal point of view, that 50,000-soul town is an excellent and fast portrait of what American cities can be. It goes really quickly from poor (and dangerous) areas to a downtown with modern buildings, through old rusty areas, long roads full of auto parts shops, bars and restaurants of all kinds, and richer districts with massive landlord houses. The Kartel's house was located in a street that could hardly look much more from a typical local one, and I have to admit I found it pretty funny to see the door actually open but nobody being inside to welcome us. As I told my friends, that reminded me of the last time I virtually visited Louisiana, in
Resident Evil VII. Fortunately there was nothing horrible to expect inside, and we could just make our way through a big place we already knew we would enjoy. Then, after having a look at Harvey's note on the fridge (thanks a lot for sending your console, game and pad to help the overall organization, by the way!), we could go to the venue, where Joe and Clark had been expected for almost 24 hours, and most important, where absolutely nobody knew I was gonna show up.

Entering Tower Palace, that business building entirely available to us for the whole weekend (!), obviously meant putting an end to all my awful lies to my best foreign friend of the community. When I appeared in the room where ASMKC was about to begin, Karel's eyes and reaction were something I had put high expectations into, and I wasn't disappointed (the only thing that disappointed me, anyway, was Lafungo not being there). My beloved Dutch mofo, also known as "cock", looked extremely shocked when he saw me arriving into the venue, and pronounced that very Dutch "wot da fok" I was sincerely hoping he would say. I was obviously very happy to meet him and hug once the surprise went over, but I wasn't prepared to the true sensation of that friendly meeting atmosphere: Sami had cut his hair. Himself. Which couldn't have looked worse. I must say I spent the entire weekend trolling him on this because I found it so shitty that I could not resist constantly making a fool of the most polite and classy man of this community.
Sorry, but that Sami Çetin's haircut's full of shit.

Those pre-competition moments also allowed me to discover people I had never met before, like Andrew K or Stinson, which is something I always like a lot about SMK championships and turned to be a bit like everything within that meeting: a SMK competition that really, really looked like an American CDM. Meeting people you already know and had not seen for a year like Martin is always a great thing, and seeing Leyla's sincere smile when realizing I was there is something really moving that warms the heart. Not knowing where Drew could be was another typical CDM thing, especially when you discover later what happened to him (he could have allegedly been locked up in some Texan jail, DAFUQ??). Getting interviewed in English for the first time, by local media from Louisiana, was one my unexpected highlights of the early ASMKC. Then I decided to play a bit, because a Time Trial official contest was about to begin, and even if I felt I had zero chance to win anything according to my to my total lack of practice, I didn't want to be ridiculous and really wanted to bring home at least one of those nice medals Matt showed me. Getting my Dutch friend pissed off being the small bonus I would more like dream about.