InfoComm: The Great Leviathan of Our Time

A poetic rendering of InfoComm 2015, now that the metaphorical dust has settled.>

George Tucker

As I put quill to parchment it may well be asked, why recount this tale after so much time has passed?

In answering, it must be noted that one may record the daily events and details of weather and conditions in a log book. These are only notations, and while factoids can provide clues to the events, it is only in the telling of the tale that the true story is told.

It must also be stated that in order to write salient sentences one must allow time to ably digest and filter the information. It is also necessary to wait until one can hear the internal voice over the screaming of one’s own liver.

Have You Seen the Great Leviathan?

The question hung in the air. Having once been painted as the consumer of Jonah, it was a bracing concept to be asked where it had gone to. 

What did you see on last watch?

The voice booming in my head, deep and resonant, seemed to block out all other sound.

The lights in front of me shone pure white, dilating pupils and causing the body to rock as if at sea. My chair creaked as I swayed — like the sounds of the great wooden ships which sailed out of out of my hometown Sag Harbor and its sister city Nantucket.

Of Salt Seas and Straight Sailing

The voice over my headset, of course, was that of Captain Boomer, whom with I had signed on to explore the technical world these four years now. Proud and diligent first mate, my honor is to serve with a fine staff and crew of volunteers. These sailors push us to not just hoist the main sails but to unfurl the spinnakers.

Here where our temporary port lay, situated in seas which were smoother, less crowded but no less bustling with towering masts and the din. Just behind us waves of light and noise crashed around us, washing down the decks and through our sails.

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Ensconced as we were, the effect heightened the senses like a salty breeze intoxicating an inlander coming over the hill after too many summers away from lighthouses. Great adventures lay just beyond the aft deck.

Just behind us and to the right, great spouts rose up. Sometimes a single, more often in sets of three from the good ship LookSee. The foggers, like the hailing sign of the great leviathans, served to soften the edges like misty ports at sunrise.

Upon Whose Neck?

The great vast sea that is the InfoComm exhibitor floor requires a good degree of knowledge in fluid dynamics, lest one lose their orientation to suddenly be keel hauled. Each aisle has its currents and great reefs hidden by seductive sirens calling you to port.

In all cases having possession of a good map and good sea faring clock will insure an accurate knowledge of Longitude. Avoiding the shoals, shills, and false bottom’d boats lying just below the surface. 

The forecasts called for wind shifting storms, the sort that could make even the steadiest of ships feel suddenly as if on dry land. Many have started to relearn the essential knots (for the last time?) preparing to fulfill an underway transfer. Others are coveting Queequeg’s coffin.

From the exotic islands came word that the privateers were consulting the practitioners of the black arts. Rumors among the rum runners is that the venture capitalists are reopening the old spell books in an attempt to raise Poseidon from his slumber.

Are we to be cast adrift, our shores and sails ripped asunder by the storms from the ole’ sea god’s trident?

An albatross will be slain, who will wear it from around their neck?

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