Long story short, the past week was one to remember. Not only did everything that could possibly go wrong concerning everything Sentinel-related, but we came through in the clutch and produced a newspaper worthy of the grandest award San Diego has to boast.
Indeed, my only goal this term has been to win San Diego. What’s more, now that I am going to be speaking at the convention, I decided that instead of frolicking amongst the throngs of frat boys in Tijuana enjoying a Donkey show and drowning myself in a tequila (my steadfast dream since 9th grade), I will now be attending the vast majority of this convention.
Maybe it’s because I’m speaking at this one, or maybe it’s because we’re on the West Coast, but something tells me that maybe I should buck up and act a bit more professional: network with other papers, meet future employers, etc.
Past conventions have been but mere drunkfests for me and my fellow attendees. But not this time: I can get drunk anywhere.
Two things happened in Kansas City during the October convention: (1)- I got tremendously intoxicated most of the time and blew off the convention almost completely; and (2)- I made an ass out of myself to all other attendees.
Not this time.
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