I Assess: TESFest Was The Best! No Jest!

Gangbusters!

That's how it went. Just gangbusters.

Okay, so at times I felt like I was the only homo on the planet, but it was a really great day. (I had hoped to make a weekend of it, but since I was in NYC all last weekend, and I'll be in SF all next weekend, my father is complaining of loneliness, so I couldn't negotiate for three weekends in a row.)

Due to construction--complete with a verrrrry woofy man working a jackhammer--at 9th Ave and 34th Street, I rolled up in front of the Pennsylvania Hotel twenty minutes later than I hoped. But there was my welcome wagon to greet me: a man with a bellhop's trolley. I unloaded my chain and gear bag and such, turned my car over to valet parking, and headed upstairs. I could have ducked into a workshop, but I decided that rather than jumping into my program with only fifteen minutes lead time, I'd take some time to chill, find a Starbucks, get something in my stomach, and look over my notes.

There was Lolita, there was the former Treasurer of TES, whose term coincided with mine (we bonded while comiserating). There was boymeat. There was manboy bill. There was slave david stein. There was LthrEdge. There was everybody. How cool is that? I saw to it that my gear was safely stowed away (like somebody is going to wander off with a bucket of steel...), grabbed a latte, and found Presentation Space.

A bazillion years ago, I received some invaluable advice on public speaking from an seasoned trial lawyer. He said that after you had some experience, and even though it's rough going at the outset, you find your Public Speaking Persona. It's so true! I've heard new teachers describe the experience. You don't know what you're doing up ther, and then, this Teacher Person emerges.

So I summoned my Public Speaking Persona, and he didn't let me down.

My presentation went well, I think. It was SRO. There were good responses. I kept the flow going. I distributed lengths of chain throughout the audience, and invited people to describe it. They hit all the pertinent points. "It's cold" (steel is always cold to the touch, it doesn't warm up). "It's heavy" (Oh yeah, and you feel every one of those 175 lbs). "It clanks" (How sweet is that? You can't hear rope, but chain is an auditory experience). And, I added the bit about steel being practically eternal. Everybody got a little misty eyed when I made that point.

So then, after I emptied my toybag and did a little show and tell, I told the folks to take that length of chain they were holding, come on up, and put it on the bottom. After some prodding, they got into the swing of things. The bottom--who was fabulous--was soon swathed in steel.

That's the thing about chain bondage... it requires virtually no skill at all. You can't go wrong. And yet, the payoff is tremendous. The bottom gets the ride of a lifetime, and you get to watch your bottom be as subdued and helpless as he (or she) will ever be. Totally under your power. You're the man (or woman) holding the keys to those padlocks.

I was sooooo pleased.

Pumped from that experience, I ran to the workshop in the next round, after stowing away my chain again. I went to hear slave david stein lead a discussion on the dynamics of power-imbalance relationships. Per usual, david was full of insights, just brilliant. And slavery is doing well for him; he looks great!

I threw out the gist of my recent musings, that throughout human history, power-imbalance has been the norm. It's only been over the course of the past few decades that this odd notion of egalitarian relationships has cropped up. In a way, we all know how to do a power imbalance relationship. It's the egalitarian ones that cause us problems.

Great workshop, david!

Then, I headed to a crash course in bootblacking, lead by Sirboy Cristo. Really interesting. It started off with a brief history of bootblacking, a general discussion of the rules, and then a demo. The demo was way juicy. And, Sirboy Cristo was ably assisted by this... this... guy, a fellow bootblack, who can do his stufff on my boots anytime. Woof!

My purpose in attending this particular workshop is that I'd like to give this service to Big. I know I know I know. How much time have I spent attending to my own boots over the past ten years? Does calling Cubby J. Sherwood, checking on whippingboy's work, and grabbing a tshirt out of the laundry basket to knock some of the crud off before I headed out on the town count? Then probably an hour.

But, from the descriptions offered, it sounded a lot like finishing wood. And I'm good at finishing wood. I think I'm willing to give it a go.

A coupla inter'stin' things. What other group of fetishists has formed a community the way bootblacks have? You never hear much from the brotherhood of temporary piercers, do ya? But... like... they all seem to know each other. And they all welcome newcomers, show them the ropes, and share their skills. Why... that sounds a lot like the mentorship I've received at work. That, folks, is a beautiful thing.

And, may I just say that having someone work on your boots while you're wearing them, whether it be with polish or a tongue, is absolutely sublime. Boot service rocks. And I want to give that joy to the Sir I serve.

Oh. Before I hit bootblacking, there was this really interesting convergence by the elevator banks. It was a GMSMA reunion! Manboy bill, Diabolique, slave david stein, slave neil... there we all were. We were all rushing off to workshops, so the meeting was brief, but it was wonderful.

Although I very much wanted to stick around for fisticuffs at midnight (Thanks for the invite, Pete from TES! Can I get a raincheck?), I had to get back to Bucks County. As if by magic, there was Pete the coordinator to guide me through the process of getting my chains down to my jeep.

Way to go, TES! Congratulations! Flawlessly organized (well, they ran out of red Presenter Ribbons so I didn't get one), great programs, a really good crowd. Nothing wrong there. At all.

Oh, and two more points I'll make before I wrap up this posting.

First off, about your wrist restraints... do they work? Are you sure? Y'see, I thought mine did, too. And then, one dark day, I realized that I could collapse my hand and slip right out of them. No matter how much they were tightened. Well that won't do! when I'm whipping a man, he needs the security of knowing that no matter how much he thrashes about, he's not going anywhere. Thus began a lot of a year long quest for Wrist Restraints That Work. The first recommendation I got was the restraints from Mr. S. So there I was at the Mr. S table, trying on wrist restraint after wrist restraint, and like Harry Houdini, I evaded all of them. Except the ones that sort of have straps that come up around the thumb, and under the pinkie. Alas, I bought them before I managed to get them off at home. But my quest ended. At the Leatherman in New York City. The padded, locking wrist restraints. They won't fail you. Accept no substitute.

And the other thing. I finally bought a utilikilt. I've mulled this purchase for years. They look so cool! But do I have the testicular fortitude to wear it out in public? I know I know I know. This from the man who spent Gay Pride 2003 wearing a leather vest and a sarong, including the trek down Fifth Avenue with GMSMA. But y'see, utilikilts are from Seattle. And one thing that girlfag didn't address in her Seattle Best and Worst were thighs. Have you been to Seattle? Everybody has thighs like volleyballs. All that hiking they do, I guess. I mean, everybody. And that sure looks hot hanging out of a utilikilt. Well, I don't have thighs like volleyballs. And I'm always worried that this is the yardstick by which I'll be measured. But I took the plunge. Getting a workman's utilikilt. Don't think I'll be wearing it to work anytime soon, but ya never know.

*sigh* What a good day.

Oh! Oh yeah! This is so cool! There I was, waiting for the valet to bring my jeep around, when a woman introduced herself to me and asked for contact information. She's from Black Rose, the granddaddy of pan BDSM events. And she heard great things about my chain bondage workshop. Dare I hope?

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