An hour and a half after I got into a black car (what our non-yellow cabs are called in NYC) I arrived at JFK’s Terminal 4, stood in another line for a few minutes and then did half an hour in the security line. A few clicks behind me was Rolex.

“Why don’t you come back here and wait in line with me?” he asked. “Because where I am is so much better.” I said. It was only five minutes better.

Once through security we collected our belongings, put our shoes back on, and headed to the gate. On the way we stopped and ate Panda Express. It wasn’t very good but I lied and said it wasn’t bad. Panda meat is fine.

Actually, this line would’ve been pretty unbearable without these awesome guys I was standing with. We made jokes, told stories, and more or less had the best possible time standing in line for four and a half hours. I ran into Mike, the Canadian, several times over the tournament. He and the Kiwi didn’t do so hot. I never saw the other Swede and the Mariners fan again.

After waiting in line for four-five hours to check in and then half an hour for Mini Masters to start I figured my day of waiting was over.

No.

Rolex and I then waited an hour to sign up for an eight person RTR block draft pod. When we finally sat down a judge gave me some serious attitude and then threw our packs to us, told us we were on our own to report to the big shitty mess of a judges’ station in the center of the room, and that was that. I couldn’t wait to leave. I drafted every gate I saw then every gatekeeper. Pack two I didn’t see anything interesting or good. Pack three I didn’t observe a single pick after the first (a gate) and blindly chose one card per pack and placed it on my pile of picks, never looking, and passed it to the guy on my left. When all the cards were taken I stood up, told Rolex I was dropping, and threw my deck in the garbage.

I walked around for a bit and had some of the artists draw ogres on the backs of card proofs for me. Of the three artists I asked Jeff Miracola’s was by far the best. Daarken didn’t even seem to try.

I went back to the draft and waited for Hunter to finish so we could get the fuck out and go eat dinner. The shuttle to our hotel stopped running from 7-10pm for no reason and we had to wait in line to get a cab for 20 minutes. Did I mention that we had to wait in line on Friday at all? Well, we did. A lot.

We ate at the hotel. I had too much pasta and regret none of it because pasta is the best. If there’s a food I could eat everyday forever I’d choose pasta with red sauce (and some veggies hopefully).

Dave (not Bones) and Rolex played/shot/tossed/whatevered craps for a bit and I wandered upstairs to bed. I don’t remember laying down but man did I sleep hard. Bones and Sean came back from the casino later on and they didn’t wake me even a little bit.

Could my rage be abated? Find out next week in my full day two (and three) GP Vegas report.

Thanks for reading,

Matt

MTGO: The_Obliterator