Bright and early Sunday morning we got up and got slightly lost before arriving at the Sportsmen's Lodge. There was already a line of a couple dozen people. Only they weren't going into the banquet room they were being herded out of the patio area. They were starting to set out the Dealer's tables there. But we ignored that stricture, and cut through the patio anyway. We wanted to see if the Soap Boutique was open and some generous soul had left tickets for us. Alas, it wasn't open and there was no sign of anyone offering tickets on the announcement board. On the way back we stopped on the patio, at The High Lonesome table where Razz was setting up. We moaned over our lack of tickets and they sympathized. Razz tried to sell us a THL hat. :) Discouraged but still hopeful, we headed back to the line and hung out by the valet parking office. The line was going from the patio to that area, blocking the entrance to the banquet room. So they moved the line, swinging it over so it lined the patio. We stayed where we were, having no need to stay with a registration line, sans a ticket. We listened in on the security arrangements. Guys in white shirts with black ties, and a short lady in a black and white outfit, plotted how to keep avid fans and annoying paparazzi away from the actors. (Woah, blew our back up plan of being paparazzi right out of the water.) Security's only other duties seemed to be escorting people to the restroom. For awhile they didn't notice us, but the woman finally looked over at us vaguely aware of our lurking. She asked us if we were with the Luncheon. We explained that we were hanging out waiting to mug someone for tickets. She asked us to move over by the tree. We moved over by the little tree next to the little out building that held up the other end of the overhang. But one of the security guys, chivvied us away from there too, and we went to hang out by the end of the line, which was just starting to move inside the gates to the patio. Tangy Nancy, already in line, greeted us, and we talked with her for a little while, about the Kurth/Taylor gathering and The High Lonesome one, the night before. The line moved. Registration was beginning, *sigh*, without us. Press was starting to arrive and they were relegated to the area by the little tree where we had been shooed away from. We noticed a large security hole. The huge back gate to the patio was standing wide open, though fans risked being escorted out for lack of a blue plastic bracelet, if they tried that route. Tangy came back out because she had neglected to register the first time she went in (being too busy chatting with other RATSAers) and had to get in the end of the line. We went with her in the line up to the registration table. Joan (an ardent Jon Lindstrom fan) was kind enough to bring CurlyQ over to meet us. CurlyQ said nice things about our top ten lists, and then went over to greet SuzyQ. We begged for tickets, but none were available. Inside the Patio, we took the opportunity to scan the merchandise. We gazed longingly at a black and white autographed 8x10 of Tony Geary. Right next to it was an advertisement for Maurice Benard's event, immediately after the Luncheon. If we don't get tickets, we promised ourselves, we'll buy those, and the Tony Geary pic. We went back outside before the not-so-omnipresent security, noted our lack of blue wrist adornment. Just in time to. The stars were starting to arrive. We whipped out our camera and took bad pictures. Security came along and told everyone who needed to register, to keep it moving and eveyone with a blue bracelet to get back on the patio, and every one with an orange press pass to stay in their assigned area. Happily we did not fall into any of those categories, and could stay perched on the wooden posts that bordered the patio. Some Port Charles People were arriving. Jay Pickett, then Pat Crowley, who was nice enough to ignore the security people who were whisking them inside and came and talked to the crowd (which lingered despite security efforts, but at least they were staying behind the stanchion and chain that had been set up for the line,) and allowed them to take pictures. Stephen Nichols arrived wearing a beige suit with a black shirt. John York, wearing a white long sleeved shirt and black pants, yelled to the crowd that they (security) wouldn't let him come over there. Mary Beth Evans came in next, wearing a white blouse with a black jacket. Well, that must be Ingo coming in, because all we can see are peoples heads. Amber Tamblyn was dropped off by someone, and came with a friend. Adrian and McAmy had come out, but were moved back inside because of their blue bracelets. Adrian had to watch Jackie Zeman arrive from the other side of the fence. Jon Lindstrom arrived. Other people came in who no doubt we've forgotten. We wandered back into the patio area for one last check at the registration table for tickets. The flow of people had now switched direction as they waited to get into the banquet area. Again we we were told, in no uncertain terms, that no tickets were available. Two other ladies were also waiting to hear, and like us were disappointed. They used a security walkie-talkie to call Tammy (Luncheon staff person, we assume) who came out to tell us that the room was SRO, and the fire marshal wouldn't allow even one more. Our hope almost gone, we delivered out gift for Jon Lindstrom into Rika's hands, hoping she could see that it was given to him. (We'd been lugging the thing back and forth to California since October, because we're too lazy to find the right size box and mail it.) We hung out by the Registration table, vainly hoping. The Dealers starting breaking down their tables and the patio emptied as fans were all let into the banquet room. Still we lingered by the registration table, preparing to dash over to get Maurice tickets, before the lady with the pretty "New York" brooch, left. The last person came up to register. She worried that she was too late, and she had four tickets, but two of her friends hadn't showed and did anyone want to buy them. We quickly volunteered. She asked us if we had cash, and we eagerly pulled out a wad of bills. We gravely informed her that she was our new best friend, and introduced ourselves. Her name was Terry Howell. Bless her. They attached the blue bracelet to our wrists and gave us a white bag of stuff. We dashed over to Rika and retrieved our Jon present. Top Ten Ways To Get Into The GH Luncheon 10) Buy your ticket in February 9) Speak Spanish; pretend to be a waiter 8) Disguise yourself as Wendy Riche 7) Forge a Press Pass 6) Hide in a Chandelier the night before 5) Claim to be a close personal friend of Jackie Zeman's 4) Pretend you're with the Armenian Wedding next door 3) Throw a donut, distract security gaurd 2) Stand on corner with Sign: "Will trade chocolate for Luncheon Ticket" And the number one way to get into the GH Luncheon: 1) Dumb luck
Adventure Menu |
The Luncheon - Part I |
The High Lonesome Gig |
GH Weekend Menu