> Logistical details too complicated to explain here resulted in Monkeyman having to drop gremlinn off at the restaurant, then go back for more at the hotel, including Gahalyn.

Silly Sam! Haven't you learned that NOTHING is too complicated for... COMPLICATION MAN!

I had rented a Chrysler 300 for the weekend. I may have more to say about it later, but for now I will simply say that it was whimsicoracally dubbed "The Super Car" and that this title was grossly inadequate at describing the distilled rulingness that permeated every ounce of this extremely fine automobile.

As a result, most of my weekend was spent saying things like "The Super Car is going to the motel. Who needs to go there and wants to ride in the Super Car?", which was immediately followed by four people volunteering, none of whom actually needed to go to the motel.

Leaving the beach, I was unsurprised to find four eager volunteers to ride in the Super Car during my trip back to the motel. It was thought to be likely that TalkingDog and Dan would be leaving right away and not joining us for lunch, so we expected that their places would be taken by Gahalyn. However, on our arrival at the motel we learned that they would, in fact, be joining us for lunch, and we realized that we now had six people for a car with five seatbelts. I, with uncharacteristic authority and initiative, immediately demanded that one or more people join me in the Super Car on a first pass to Don's, and promised that I would return as soon as possible for the rest. gremlinn was the only volunteer, and the rest of the story has been succintcly told by Sam.

Now I feel like Paul Harvey.

> It only took a long time to get our check, and then we headed back to the hotel to regroup for our expedition to the beach on Assateague.

Sam forgot to mention one of my favorite parts of lunch. I, like the Schnookums Don, was busily trying to sample as many different kinds of seafood as possible. At Don's, I saw and took the opportunity to try fresh steamed oysters. I was somewhat surprised when they arrived still in the shells (although I have no idea why). I had never even SEEN an oyster shell before, and while I happily dove in and starting cracking them open and eating them, I was concerned that I looked like the land-locked hick that I am. Sam happened to wander over around this time, which led to the following exchange.

"Sam, how does one go about eating oysters?"
"Well, are you putting them in your mouth?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, you're doing it all wrong."

Sam proceeded to explain to me that nobody on this planet or any other actually likes oysters, and that the fact that I was enjoying them must have been the result of some sort of weird portal to an anti-matter universe opening inside my mouth every time I ate one, creating the illusion that they WERE, in fact, tasty.

I just think everyone else is nuts.

> My bafflement at MM being unable to decide which suit to buy but perfectly able to decide which one to vote for quickly gave way to the realization that I can get him to do absolutely anything I want just by getting a friend to outvote him on a course of action he wants to take. I fully intend to exploit this knowledge for evil at a future date.

This is one of those (numerous) situations where I, myself, don't even understand myself.

Sam's reaction on the beach when he learned that I had voted and then graciously accepted my defeat was, however, worth the price of admission to RU6, as well as all RU's for the next eight years.

> but as I was wading, Monkeyman blew by me in a blur and plunged heedlessly into the turmoil, all four limbs AND HEAD flailing randomly about. Those waves totally owned him, and scarcely 30 seconds later he slumped, bedraggled and exhausted, onto the sand.

To my credit, I think this was the third time I had attempted such an assault on the vicious Atlantic Ocean (which I had never seen before that afternoon), and I'm certain that at least one of my prior assaults broke the 40 second mark.

> I wrote "RinkWorks" in the sand, complete with the red streak, and Ticia sculpted visages of Stephen and Mia, and Monkeyman sculpted a visage of a monkey. Ticia wrote "RU6," and a French girl was lingering by, trying to figure out what we were writing. Back where our stuff was parked, the American flag and the Union Jack had been carved into the sand, and both Dons buried themselves in the sand.

I later stepped on the American flag, which may have some relation to the strip searches I had to endure on each leg of my flight home, and may also explain why I had the pleasure of watching my checked baggage being detonated on the tarmac outside Terminal C in Houston.

> When Issachar announced he would have to leave shortly, we took the opportunity to hurry through the required group pictures, which had Monkeyman buried in the sand. By this time, TalkingDog and his brother had slipped away unnoticed, so they were unfortunately excluded.

It should be noted that although I was the one buried in the sand during the group photos, Don's sand hole totally pwned mine. I just had better timing. :-)

> Upon our return to the hotel, just about everybody had to take immediate showers, because we all had sand in places sand shouldn't be.

Iss made the mistake of removing his swim trunks before stepping into the shower, and upon seeing the mountain chain formed when he swept up the debris, I made the wise decision to empty my trunks in the shower.

If any of you has ever had the pleasure of winning a million dollars while playing the nickel slots in Vegas, you may be able to understand the experience I had.

> Despite all the things that almost went fatally wrong -- the initial unavailability of the conference room, the seemingly probable absence of ponies on the bus tour, and so on -- everything ultimately seemed to go pretty right. Disregarding those I missed who weren't there (and there are always some missing from every RinkUnion), I think RU6 was the best so far.

I've only been to RU4 and 5 before this, but I have to wholeheartedly agree.

> Monkeyman took Maryam to the Salisbury airport, for example, starting around 4:00am Monday morning. It's a good thing Canadians don't need sleep.

Your astute observation is only proven by the fact that I am posting this message shortly after four in the morning. I'd rather sleep through a job interview than waste time on such trivial matters when there are Rinkies around.

Don Monkey