We were good as married in my mind

there was definitely something queer in the air last night.
Besides the obvious i mean.

I've been pondering how to convey to you the debauchery of the evening past, without of course, giving too much away.

I would have to say it started when Charlene walked on stage wearing a pants suit. Immediately I knew something was off.

Jay, Stacy, Chandra and I serendipitously met up in the lobby and decidedly stuck together for the remainder of the evening. I knew this would compromise my stealthiness slightly, but what with the electricity in the air, I figured tonight I may need to throw caution to the wind, and see if that would lead to further developments in my case. Sometimes, you just have to lose some to win some.
##thatisnottheexpression

It became painfully obvious that the four of us were having the most fun. It wasn't the wine. What was it??

I pointed out to Stacy the error of Charlene's ways, as she she informed the crowd that if they wanted more information on the festival to check out the information table in the lobby.
"Wrong!" I yelled (to Stacy only. And perhaps the few audience members in close proximity)
"You mean check out the blog!" (but still, I yelled it)


Spy fail #4: Do I even need to tell you. Really. I yelled about the freaking blog for crying out loud.

She did proceed to mention the blog, as she informed the crowd we were "creeping around the events" (direct quote)
My stomach sank. My suspicions were confirmed. Charlene was onto me.
Worse yet, she suspected us all. Had I compromised the safety for my fellow bloggers, i wondered, as I threw back my red wine.


As for the other indications that there was something afoot, they are almost too many to name. I will provide them in list form:
A guitar named Verna, a post modern mash up, Pink Triangle by Weezer. Vagina jokes with surprisingly heartfelt laughter from unnamed Thin Air staff. Stacy going for a run at intermission. Jay giving blog hugs. Fashion shows, beaver references, WD40, and Charlene calling on the spirit Akna. And actors.

My head was spinning.
This mission had taken a sharp turn.
We were no longer on the straight and narrow, so to speak.

Now, every spy has to have a line they just won't cross
##imnotsurethisistrue
And so, while the events that unfolded in the hospitality suite, post reading, add significantly to my case, I am unable to reveal the details of them at this time.
Just trust me when I tell you, the night was chaos of the best kind.

Conclusions are hard to come by at this point. Perhaps the linear approach of my detective mission has been permanently skewed.
Perhaps there are no conclusions, save one.

Just when you think the queer is missing, coordinated chair shuffles happen like a rehearsed dance performance. An involved discussion of salmon vs magenta unfolds and clarification is provided when someone points out that magenta is "like red, but gay".
And someone somewhere eats a cheese curd in a hotel room filled with joyfully melancholic writers.

over and out

Courtney Slobogian was born in Winnipeg and likes it that way. She is a writer/understated activist/ irreverent feminist.

Some of her work can be tracked down in quiet corners of the internet.

She co-hosts a radio show on CKUW called Tiger Lilies are Poisonous, dislikes cotton socks and is currently working on developing her spy skills.