Small

This weekend brought about an unexpected family reunion. Not another business meeting, mind you, and not an organized family getaway, either. No, this reunion was one of the wholly random variety. What's that? You'd like to hear about it? Well, if you insist...

On Friday, Ian arrived in MSP with the other members of the Drake Mock Trial team for a weekend tournament at Macalester. For the uninitiated, Mock Trial, or "Mock", as it is known in SE (as opposed to the rest of the world, which calls it "Trial"), is an extracurricular activity that exists in high schools, colleges, and law schools. At the beginning of the season, each team receives the same case information - stipulated facts, case law, witness statements, evidence, and so on. The students then prepare both sides of the case (here, prosecution and defense, since this year's proceeding is a criminal matter); witnesses memorize their statements and make their characters memorable, lawyers write directs and crosses and opens and closes. During competition, one school's prosecution side goes up against another school's defense side, and they fight it out in court (or, as the case may be, a tiny little classroom that bears no resemblance to any courtroom).

The weekend's tournament guaranteed each team four trials: one on Friday, two on Saturday, and one on Sunday. Ali and I, being the stellar sisters that we are, decided to spend our Friday night watching our wee little brother compete, so we frolicked over to Mac with Mal in plenty of time for the seven o'clock start of the first round. We greeted Ian in the hall and then walked into his assigned room, where most of the team members from St. Thomas (prosecuting) and Drake (defending) had already assembled. Upon our entrance, a dozen college students attired in courtroom-appropriate suits jumped to their feet. "Oh, we are so not the judges," Ali said. We claimed the last three chairs in the room, pulled them over to one side by the timekeepers, and sat down; as the only spectators, apart from one student's mother, we spent the next two and a half hours watching Ian's team attempt to defend an accused kidnapper. I thought there was a reasonable doubt, when all was said and done, but then, I was so not a judge; the presiding judge didn't make a final ruling, however, so I'm just going to go ahead and say that Ian won. Go Ian!! (His team did come in sixth out of forty, so they must have done something right.)

After the trial, we met up with Chris, who was competing with Mac, on the second floor of the campus center. He hadn't eaten supper, and as it was past nine and he was most hungry, we decided to go snag him some food. Unfortunately, Ian had to stay with his team, so we bid him farewell for the evening. As we turned to walk away, he casually mentioned, "You know, Pat's here judging."

"Huh?" I looked back at him. "Right now?"

"Yeah, somewhere. He's driving back to Sleepy Eye tonight, then coaching Mock there in the morning and coming back to judge an afternoon trial. I think he's staying at your house."

"Good of him to let us know."

I wondered if I should call my father, being as we were probably in the same building and all. Ultimately, though, I decided against it; he has a bad habit of leaving his mobile phone's ringer on and answering calls over speakerphone during meetings. "We'll see him tomorrow, apparently," Ali said, and she, Mal, Chris, and I descended to the first floor, heading for the main exit. There, alone in the foyer, was Patrick, telephoning away. So we all went out to Applebee's, and Daddykins bought us cheesecake and beer (well, okay: two cheesecakes and one beer [and two entrees, one appetizer, one margarita, and one martini]; if you want to play "pin the order on the orderer", you're more than welcome.)

Long story short (hmm... perhaps it's too late...), it looks like Minneapolis-St. Paul is just another small town.