You know, if I was approached by a bunch of authentic
“nerds”, I think I would get schooled pretty hard. They’d come up to me, clad in their best
Monty Python t-shirts or button-up polos, clutching a formidable Texas Instrument
calculator or sinisterly tossing a completed Rubik’s cube in the air.
“So…” the leader would say, pushing his wide wire-rim
glasses up his nose, “think you’re a NERD, do ya?”
“Yes, sir,” I meekly reply.
“Huh,” he snorts and looks to his companions. Another one steps forward, wearing an
accurate replica of a Starfleet uniform, “Tell me this. What was the name of the ambassador sent to
rectify relations between two warring factions and in the meantime, bedded the
incomparably exquisite Dr. Crusher?”
“Um, well, I…” I would stammer, trying to search my brain.
“Which language did Tolkien base the Elvin language Sindarin
off of?” asks another stepping forward, carefully placing his Gandalf-style staff in plain sight.
“I…uh…” I say.
“How many parallel central processor units does the world’s
fastest computer, the CRAY Y-MP C90, have?”
interrupts another.
At this, I say nothing, and they chortle and squeal with
delight at my obvious ignorance.
“You are not one of us,” the leader declares, wiping his
bleeding nose with his embroidered handkerchief.
“Come on, guys.” And with that,
they walk away, and I am alone with my shame.
It’s true. I am not a nerd.
I have hours more of watching Star Trek before I know anything by heart,
I have not read any of the Lord of the Rings books, and my knowledge of science
and technology ends with my ability to adequately use my iPhone.
I am not a nerd, but I would like to be. That’s why I agreed to let Joe teach me
something that might make me a nerd overnight.
He taught me “Magic: The Gathering”.
I had promised him years ago that the next time we lost
power for a few hours, and we required some entertainment, he would break out
two brand new decks and teach me the ways of “Magic.”
That auspicious night occurred last week. Just as we were finishing eating (and watching
an episode of Star Trek), the power went out.
We looked outside and noticed our entire neighborhood had been blanketed
in blackness.
“Well, looks like the power’s going to be out for a while…I
know what we’ll do!” Joe exclaimed, and with that he grabbed a flashlight and
began hunting in the garage for the two decks.
“Oh…good,” I said hesitantly. To be honest, I wasn’t in the mood to put my
brain to work, but I had promised so I decided to try and be a good sport. And anyway, maybe the power would come back
on soon?
Joe was having some difficulty locating the game and for a
few brief minutes, I sort of hoped he wouldn’t. But after a few minutes, he returned to the
living room triumphant.
“Got ‘em!” he declared excitedly. Crap, I thought.
We gathered our many scented candles (the only candles we
had) onto our kitchen table and spread the cards out while Joe explained the
basic rules.
“We are both wizards trying to defeat each other, but we
conjure up monsters and spells to deflect any damage we might take. We draw our powers from the lands, called
mana, and each land has certain strengths and weaknesses,” he went on.
Already my brain was beginning to hurt.
Of course, it could’ve been the mixed cocktail of scents we
were “conjuring” up with all the scented candles. The room quickly filled with smells of autumn
woods, whispering sea breezes, pomegranates, and pine.
To make matters worse, with no A.C., the house began to get
hot and sticky. When there was a pause
in the game, I got up to see if we had any bottles of water left. Fortunately, there was one but I almost drank
the whole thing in one shot.
So, there I was, getting nauseous from the abundance of
flowers and fruit scents, lack of drinking water, and trying to focus my
attention on whether or not to summon a beast with “trample” or select a spell
to disarm my opponent.
My patience was wearing thin, and Joe could tell, but he was
determined for us to finish a game.
Finally, after he made his move, I threw the rest of my cards down.
“I don’t know! I don’t have anything!” I said and slumped
back in my chair. Joe patiently
retrieved my cards and looked at them.
“Hon, you won. If you
play these cards like this,” and he arranged them just so, “then you beat
me. You won,” he said, flabbergasted.
“Oh,” I said. I
allowed the slightest smirk to cross my lips.
We called it quits for the night and just went to bed, but I couldn’t
help but be a little happy I won at such a complicated game- even if I didn’t
quite understand how.
A few days later we played again, and this time under more
comfortable circumstances (plenty of air-conditioning, water, and non-scented
light sources), so I was a much more willing participant. And I realized the more we were playing, the
more involved I was getting. I began
organizing my strategies and creatures to get a better advantage. It began to be almost fun. Like an actual game.
I have much more to learn, but I am excited at the prospect
of finally obtaining my own piece of the nerd pi (pun very much intended).
