I think it says something about the sheltered nature of my existence that a fairly straightforward day of travel and games playing felt decidedly odd to me.
As you may already know, I travelled down to old London village today, for to play some Nintendo games at a media summit. The games were good (okay, that’s understatement of the century as far as Galaxy 2 is concerned) and I generally had an enjoyable time. The O2 arena was a bit of a strange place – not least because it seems to make it incredibly awkward for people to get to it – though its abundance of restaurants enabled me to grab a hearty lunch (with thanks to Matt for paying).
Also unusual was the treatment I received from the PRs at the event. Now PR people are essentially paid to be nice to journalists at press events, but I still couldn’t quite fathom why they told me my name had been cropping up in their conversations (presumably “what the hell has Schilling done to his hair?” was the main point of discussion), nor why I should be invited into a ‘VIP area’ which didn’t really seem particularly special save for some black curtains apparently stopping ordinary plebs from getting in. Annoyingly, this meant I didn’t get much chance to talk to the very interesting person I wanted to speak further with, though I was mostly in good company, with the Telegraph’s very lovely Tom Hoggins also allowed entry to this exclusive club.
Thereafter I was allowed to queue-jump to play Super Mario Galaxy 2, before some poor schlub was rudely shunted away from the DSi XL he was holding so that I might have a demonstration. Admittedly I had a deadline of 3pm to get my piece written up, but I was so embarrassed to be metaphorically barging other journos out of the way, I could do nothing but stare intently at the floor until I was certain disgusted eyes had turned away. If looks could kill, and all that…
Being the polite and well-brought-up individual that I am, I decided to follow my late lunch by finding the PRs to thank them for their hospitality, only to discover that most of them had seemingly buggered off for the day. And then the train journey home was strange because…well, because train journeys always are for me. For some bizarre reason, I always feel utterly knackered after going anywhere by rail. A train is probably the only place apart from my own bed I could potentially fall asleep. Except I can’t, because I’m so incredibly paranoid about missing my stop. So I spent the entire return trip on the verge of nodding off, managing to repeatedly stop myself from doing so. To other passengers I must have looked like a half-functioning narcoleptic.
So a series of very minor strangenesses combined to make a day that felt just a little bit weird. Though reading all that back, it’s not that weird at all, is it? Unlike the post about absolutely nothing you’ve just read.
Like I said, sheltered existence.