bY jOHN hARGRAVE
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bY jOHN hARGRAVE
I'll say one thing for EMail World & Internet Exposition: they've got the most responsive security staff around.
This ZUNT involved me dressing up in a kilt and a T-shirt on which I had written, in huge childlike letters, "KILL GATES." On the back was the ubiquitous "ZUG."
Beforehand, I had to make copies of my new ZUG flyers. So I walked down Boston's Boylston Street, wearing a kilt and long underwear. I was freezing; we had just had two inches of snow.
I stepped in a puddle outside the copy store and tarlike sludge spewed on my white long johns. "Shit!" I yelled, running off in search of a public restroom. I mean, I had to make the right impression for this crowd.
As it happens, the entire city of Boston has one public restroom, and that is in the basement of the Boston Public Library. Now, this place is horrible. I really just want to tell this story so I can describe this swamphole. It is, bar none, the filthiest restroom in the western hemisphere. The homeless, winos, and assorted freaks camp out behind the Library, on the warm subway vents. When they need to drop a bun, they use these restrooms. Some of the urinals have old socks or ham sandwiches left in them. The stalls have no doors...and people still use them! How can anyone meet the baker when everyone's walking by, staring at your pants down around your ankles? These things I cannot fathom.
So it was particularly unpleasant to be washing my underwear in this place. Now I was the freak that everyone was avoiding, dressed in a kilt and galoshes. I spent ten minutes trying to dry my long johns under the hand dryers, and eventually gave up.
I finally arrived at Hynes Convention Center, my underwear soaking wet, my new copies in hand. I took a few moments to scope out the place. I received ten compliments on my shirt. "Nice shirt." "Love the shirt." People seemed in on the joke, but I still felt uneasy.
"All right, it's showtime!" I yelled, whipping out my first flyer. Then I did the be-obnoxious-and-hand-out-free-junk thing. New patter: "This is the screen saver that ended the cold war!" I yelled. "Have a piece of history on your screen for free!" I would be quiet as I approached a security guard. Then I'd start up again. "I have seen the future of the Internet! In fact, I AM the future of the Internet! Isn't that frightening?"
It's fun doing these little pieces of performance art, because you get a feeling for each exhibitor's corporate environment. At IBM, for instance, they crack up appreciatively every time I come around. At Microsoft, on the other hand, they stare at me with dull, unblinking expressions. I am Freak Boy.
Microsoft's lack of curiosity is eerie. If I were working there, I'd be interested. I'd say, "Hey! What's this all about?" But they just stare at me like sheep. It's like I'm walking through Douglas Coupland's "Microserfs." And that was never more true than this time, with my "KILL GATES" T-shirt.
This trade show had a very high suit factor, so it was less than half an hour before I was accosted by no less than four security guards. "Who are you?" asked the main security guy, a soft, elderly gentleman. "What are you doing? What's your problem? Why are you yelling?"
"I'm promoting ZUG," I calmly responded. I was greatly annoyed that I hadn't even visited the HotWired booth yet.
"What's ZUG? What's your problem? Why are you yelling?"
I bit my lip and thought. "Follow me, guys," I waved them over to the direction of HotWired. "The publicity's better over here." Surprisingly, they followed me all the way across the convention floor. "This brush with the law is being brought to you by ZUG!" I yelled, waving my promotional literature around. "ZUG is being removed from the show floor!"
I didn't realize that the HotWired booth was right next to the Microsoft booth. Suddenly the security guys got really nuts. They surrounded me. There were now eight of them. No kidding, eight guys.
"We're going to have to ask you to leave," said the guy in charge, physically blocking my way. Then I realized that this guy really thought I was going to go postal worker on the Microsoft booth. Burly men surrounded me, walkie-talkies at the ready.
"Listen," I looked at his nametag, "Richard. I mean no harm. I'll leave peacefully." I turned to the guys behind me. "You guys want a ZUG flyer? A screen saver?" They didn't move. "The screen saver is Windows only. Will that be a problem?" I pointed at one of them. "You look like you might be a Macintosh guy." He stared straight ahead.
"Let's go," said Richard. "I don't know what cause you're promoting, but let's go." He was baffled by my behavior.
"I will say one thing, Rich," I told him. "You guys have set a new record for ousting ZUG. Half an hour. That's an impressive response time."
On the way out, I did manage to interest him in a "KILL GATES?" flyer. And once they saw that ZUG was all in the name of good-natured fun, they relaxed.
"Thank you, everyone!" I waved to the crowd as they led me down the escalator. "It's been a wonderful show!"
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