Defcon 7, who could forget something like that.

We left HackCanadaLand about midnight in the middle of the rain. God, it
was cold, and wet, and dark. Here I was, in a truck full of people society
frowned upon. Those who would test the limits of technology at any cost
without any regard for the questionable laws, or moral issues that held
others back with the herd. I belonged with these people.

As we were all cramming in, it was decided that I would ride shotgun and be
the trusty navigator. Heh. I don't remember it being my idea, but it was
alright, I got better at reading the map as we went.

It pretty much rained all night long, all the way through Alberta. Our stuff
was wrapped in plastic bags so it hopefully wouldn't get wet. Thank Glad and
that white-haired dude on TV who sells for them, our stuff didn't get wet.
It was a long arduous journey, all night long. I had stayed up the whole
night before with cyb0rg/asm, trashing and whatnot so I could sleep the
whole way down. Well, it became evident that even though I dozed off a few
times, it was an impossible task.

Daylight eventually broke through the night and ushered in a beautiful
morning. And we soon were nearing the American border. We had muttered
among ourselves the things they ask, and exchanged horror stories of
relatives who had their vehicles torn apart, or belongings destroyed in
an attempt to search travelers for contraband. I, myself, had never been
this south of the cozy icicle I call home, let alone had I ever crossed
over the big black line on the map, dividing the Canucks, and the Yanks. I
wondered how crossing the border could have ever been considered probable
cause for violation of the personal rights of privacy that I take entirely
for granted. My mind wandered to other things. Odd things. Like the
granaries, and cows, and tractors being driven by scantily clad... Well, we
won't get into that.

We arrived at customs sometime in the mid-morning, and arrived at the giant
iron gate being guarded by a troll wearing a loin-cloth coloured like an
American flag. He stomped over to the side of our truck and bellowed out
"Where are you going?!"

Well, that was kind of a silly question (not ours, the troll's), but wanting
more to go to Defcon than to be witty but have to stay north of the line, we
answered with haste and gentility; "The United States."

Other questions were thrown at us such as, "Where are you from?" "What's your
business in Las Vegas?" "Do you have any illegal substances or narcotics in
the vehicle?" No, but we can get you some.

In the end, the monster chose to let us pass, which was nice so we continued
on our journey. A few hours later, somewhere in the middle of Montana, just
after hearing on the radio that a localite had killed himself by cutting off
his own head with a chainsaw because a blind-date with an internet friend
had not gone so well, we decided to stop for some food. And where did
HackCanada stop for breakfast, you may ask? McDonald's of course!

I must say, I was shocked at how flavourous and satisfying that sausage with
egg mcmuffin meal was. For some reason or another, in The Great White North,
McDonald's tastes like singed Styrofoam. Yet, here in Montana, it was
wonderful!

As our journey progressed, it became evident that not everything was as
cheap in the US as was rumored throughout Canada. It seems only smokes, and
beer (though we didn't know about the beer yet, I'll let you in on just a
morsel of the $1.25 secret) were cheap. But, I guess that's more than anyone
could ask for... isn't it?

Montana was a pleasant state, not unlike Alberta in scenery or climate. The
highways in the US allowed us to go slightly faster than in Canada, which
was nice, so we wouldn't feel like we were speeding when we'd go 130kph.

From Montana there was Idaho... Potatoes, huh? I didn't see one.

After a few more states, maybe not even a few, I forget anyway, there was
Utah. Salt Lake City, where The Question lost his mind trying to deal with
the horridly ill mannered drivers of that completely-under-construction
state. At this point, cyb0rg/asm took over. 

Well, we continued on, stopping hither and thither for urination breaks, and
gas fill-ups. Arizona, Nevada. *sighs* What a beautiful state. Nothing like
my home, but I wish it was. The weather was nice, the scenery was heavenly,
and the people were pleasant.

It was pitch black as we attempted to find a local radio station, finally
managing to get some decent music. Yeeeaaah, beach boys! The road wove in
and around the mountains and hills, and around midnight, 24 hours after we
started out, two mountains parted on the horizon, and there in front of us
was a lake of bright lights. 

We stopped next to the big sign welcoming us to Vegas and took pictures. The
air was hot and humid. I found it odd, especially being so late at night.

About an hour later, after finding the strip and Alexis Park, we stopped in
front of the hotel. Cyb, Wildman, and Clone went in to see if there were any
cancellations. Unfortunately there were none.

Clone, Wildman, and I opted to stay at the Alexis Park while the rest took
off to Amerisuites to check in. As we were sitting there, we met a few neat
people. It was quiet, a little bit intimidating knowing that everyone around
us was a hacker. But as soon as the intimidation came, it disappeared when
we realized that these people were more like us than any others we would
ever encounter in one place.

I looked over to my left and saw a group standing, chatting. One was wearing
a 2600 shirt, and another had long, twisty black hair underneath a hat...
much like... Emmanuel Goldstein?? Could that be? The voice of the Hacktivist
movement? The #1 recognized figure as the hacker leader of ethics and unity?

I nudged clone, "Hey! Is that Emmanuel, dude?"

He looked over, and shrugged, "I dunno..."

Shit, I told them I would walk over and that if the guy was wearing a 2600
hat, he had to be who I thought he was. If not, well, he must get mistaken
for him a lot. So, when I saw he was in fact wearing the hat, I asked him,
"Are you Emmanuel?"

He looked around, "Me? Oh no!," He laughed, "I'm just his stand-in."

Well, from the voice, I knew for sure it was him, there was no mistaking
it. I introduced myself as a member of HackCanada and to my surprise, he
knew who I was. Or, at least what HackCanada was about. He immediately
inquired as to how our 2600 meetings were going. I told him about how they
had attracted a lot of talent in the last little while and he was pleased.
Clone and Wildman had caught on by now, and came over.

Two others were with Emmanuel, Bronc, and porkchop, both celebrities
themselves among the hacker community. Emmanuel asked us about some of the
stuff we were up to, and whether or not we'd be going to H2K. I confirmed
that we were definitely hoping we could. To my surprise and delight, he asked
me if HC would do a panel. After briefly discussing what we could talk about,
I told him that the person he should talk to for confirmation is Cyb, and
that he'd be there shortly.

We continued talking about things, took some pictures, when I finally saw the
HC truck pull up outside. I excused myself and ran out to meet the rest of
the brew. (chuckle)

"Guys! We're talking to Emmanuel and he's invited us to speak at H2K!" 

So, there we were, all talking to the people I had only dreamed of seeing.
I hadn't even fathomed meeting them personally. We decided to move over to
a restaurant Emmanuel recommended called the Holy Cow. Somehow along the
way, we lost Bronc and ended up with another guy named Automatic Jack.

Time went on, we all ate, I had shrimp (yum!). Emmanuel and Porkchop were
comparing their cellphone features and showing them off to us. Porkchop was
making us envy his very cool watch that he got from some MTV chick (I should
watch more TV, but I DO know that getting anything from an MTV chick is
pretty cool. She probably wants Porkchop... he should go for her, eh?). Auto
Jack asked us things about our dogsleds and whatnot, I wasn't really paying
attention though.

Emmanuel's phone rang sometime a little later and the conversation went
something like this:

"Hello?"
"What do you mean you've got everyone over there? We've got everyone over
here!"
"We've got the Canadians... what have you got?"

Heh heh. That was really funny! I busted a gut over that one. Well, as the
time wore on, so did everyone else, and we all decided to call it night,
and head off to bed. Bidding our farewells, I (and the rest of the HC crew,
I can promise) were all still a little shocked and surprised at the amazing
turn of events that evening.

I will always remember that day.

Wizbone

07/28/99