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A zero-toast night!
Aug. 20th, 2008 08:39 amThe post-launch dinner during my first campaign back in 2003 was a pretty formal affair, though not in terms of attire, as neckties represent the ne plus ultra of sartorial formality among campaigners. The formality lay with the ritual of toasting, where pretty much every member of upper management from every company involved took turns saying a few words.
These are the times that can try the souls of interpreters, as they struggle to deal with untranslatable jokes (solution: ask the audience to laugh at the appropriate time), obscure cultural or literary references (solution: turn, say, an obscure couplet from Eugene Onegin into "our great Pushkin once wrote eloquently about it"), or the embarrassing or silly results of "toasting while intoxicated" (solution: improvise!).
But enough about the past.
Everyone was very happy with yesterday's results. Over the past few days, I had sensed some increased tension in the air, and it seemed to me that folks were just a little more easily irritated as we approached launch time. This was a very important campaign for pretty much all of the organizations involved; to hear various snippets of conversation, there was a lot more riding on that Proton-M than just a satellite. I was happy to make the contribution I did to the effort.
The party last night featured barbecued Angus steaks, along with the usual side dishes. Folks managed to mingle well at the four long and sturdily built picnic tables, circulating around, once they had eaten some of the marvelous food, to shake hands, hug, and clink their glasses. There were many small toasts last night, among friends and colleagues, requiring no interpretation.
At about a quarter to 10, the moon - orange and still nearly full - rose almost directly east of us and shimmered ever so slightly as it toyed with the horizon. I was surprised to see a number of campaigners walk out of the front gate of the hotel with me to get a better view of the moonrise, and as I stood in a state of idle contemplation, I wondered if our kind would ever find enough inspiration to impel us toward the stars?
The kitchen staff then brought out a cake that our most excellent baker had made, featuring the flags of the countries involved, and for a while, the flurry of camera flashes aimed at that confection rivaled that aimed at movie stars attending gala premieres at locales somewhere more glamorous than Area 95 at Baiknonur. (The cake was delicious, too!)
I had labored under the impression that the campaign would want to send me home today, but I found out yesterday that I was actually schedluled to go out on tomorrow's charter to Moscow. So, I called Delta for the second time in four days to reschedule my flight home, and lucked out. (I had called a few days ago to reschedule my flight for this Friday, and though there was no problem getting a seat, I ended up waitlisted for my business-class upgrade that, if it didn't materialize, I would either have to pay a healthy fee to "redeposit" in my frequent-flyer account else lose. My current reservation, made to allow me time to visit my mother-in-law, has no such problem.)
Daylight is burning. Victor has me scheduled to go in this afternoon, but last night he said my presence at the полтинник would probably not be required. I might go in anyway.
Cheers...
These are the times that can try the souls of interpreters, as they struggle to deal with untranslatable jokes (solution: ask the audience to laugh at the appropriate time), obscure cultural or literary references (solution: turn, say, an obscure couplet from Eugene Onegin into "our great Pushkin once wrote eloquently about it"), or the embarrassing or silly results of "toasting while intoxicated" (solution: improvise!).
But enough about the past.
Everyone was very happy with yesterday's results. Over the past few days, I had sensed some increased tension in the air, and it seemed to me that folks were just a little more easily irritated as we approached launch time. This was a very important campaign for pretty much all of the organizations involved; to hear various snippets of conversation, there was a lot more riding on that Proton-M than just a satellite. I was happy to make the contribution I did to the effort.
The party last night featured barbecued Angus steaks, along with the usual side dishes. Folks managed to mingle well at the four long and sturdily built picnic tables, circulating around, once they had eaten some of the marvelous food, to shake hands, hug, and clink their glasses. There were many small toasts last night, among friends and colleagues, requiring no interpretation.
At about a quarter to 10, the moon - orange and still nearly full - rose almost directly east of us and shimmered ever so slightly as it toyed with the horizon. I was surprised to see a number of campaigners walk out of the front gate of the hotel with me to get a better view of the moonrise, and as I stood in a state of idle contemplation, I wondered if our kind would ever find enough inspiration to impel us toward the stars?
The kitchen staff then brought out a cake that our most excellent baker had made, featuring the flags of the countries involved, and for a while, the flurry of camera flashes aimed at that confection rivaled that aimed at movie stars attending gala premieres at locales somewhere more glamorous than Area 95 at Baiknonur. (The cake was delicious, too!)
I had labored under the impression that the campaign would want to send me home today, but I found out yesterday that I was actually schedluled to go out on tomorrow's charter to Moscow. So, I called Delta for the second time in four days to reschedule my flight home, and lucked out. (I had called a few days ago to reschedule my flight for this Friday, and though there was no problem getting a seat, I ended up waitlisted for my business-class upgrade that, if it didn't materialize, I would either have to pay a healthy fee to "redeposit" in my frequent-flyer account else lose. My current reservation, made to allow me time to visit my mother-in-law, has no such problem.)
Daylight is burning. Victor has me scheduled to go in this afternoon, but last night he said my presence at the полтинник would probably not be required. I might go in anyway.
Cheers...
