(somewhere secret in the desert)

Corporate HR Imam: Now that the dead and wounded have been pushed aside, I think things have settled down enough that we can get back to the safe space training.

Trump Action Figure: Vote for me or I’ll sue you.

Hillary Clinton Doll: Chelsea, get that cigar out of your mouth. You don’t know where it’s been.

Corporate HR Imam: Ok everybody, stop playing with the action figures of death. Right now. Or better yet, pass them all forward. Pass them up. Everybody. That’s right. Pass them up.

Crowd: (grumbling)

Corporate HR Imam: Ok, is that all of them? It better be. If I see anyone with one, they will be banned from the goat pen.

(a dozen more action figures are anonymously hurled toward the Imam)

Corporate HR Imam: Let’s get started then. Can anyone tell me what I mean by a safe space?

Ahmed: An underground bunker that will protect us from the weapons of the infidel.

Ali: And from the mighty golem of the Jews.

Galid: Nothing can keep us safe from the golem of the Jews, my friend. That is dark, dark magic.

Corporate HR Imam: Good responses all, but that is not the kind of safe space I am talking about.

Habib: Oh I know. A room with strong air filters to protect us from the mighty flatulence of Ali.

Galid: That is true. We should just put Ali into a dirty bomb. Jerusalem would not be inhabitable again.

Ali: How many times have I told you guys, it is a condition. I can’t help it. This is the way Allah made me. You guys suck! You all suck!

Corporate HR Imam: Ok, good. This is good. This is an example of what I will be talking about. Ali, how did Habib’s and Galid’s comments make you feel.

Ali: Filled with the righteous anger of Allah!

Corporate HR Imam: Really? And what else? Come on. You can tell us.   We are all friends here.

Ali: Angry…..

Corporate HR Imam: And?

Habib: Slightly aroused?

Corporate HR Imam: Let Ali answer, Habib. How did it make you feel?

Ali: And hurt, ok. It hurt my feelings.

Corporate HR Imam: Good Ali. And that is what I am talking about. A safe space is a place where Ali can go and feel safe and secure that no one will make fun of him and hurt his feelings.

Ahmed: I vote that Ali’s safe space be in the middle of the Negev. Surely that is distant enough to keep us safe from the wafting of his noxious fumes.

Ali: Shut up! I’ll kill you for that!

Habib: Shall I rape him first, Allah willing?  I’ll be gentle.

Corporate HR Imam: What the….? No raping.  No killing. Save the killing and the raping for the infidels. Within our own camp we all need to feel safe and secure and respected and loved. Ahmed, do you see how what you said, even if it was in jest, could have been hurtful?

Ahmed: Yeah. Maybe. If Ali were a woman.

Galid: Perhaps Ali would feel safer in a burka.

Habib: And the fumes of death would have a harder time escaping the voluminous folds.

Ali: That’s it. I’m gonna behead you all for that. I’ll do it.

Corporate HR Imam: Stop it!  Put down your sword, Ali.  There will be no beheading of anyone until the demonstration following the training. Now let’s all calm down and get back on task or we might not have time for the beheading demonstration at all. What I am seeing here is a pure example of why you all need to learn about safe spaces. Listen carefully while I define a safe space. A safe space is a place where anyone can relax and be able to fully express, without fear of being made to feel uncomfortable, unwelcome, or unsafe on account of biological sex, race/ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender identity or expression, cultural background, religious affiliation, age, or physical or mental ability. A place where the rules guard each person’s self-respect and dignity and strongly encourage everyone to respect others.

Ali: What, in the name of Allah? Fully express? Is that even proper Arabic? What does that even mean?

Ahmed: Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute. What part of the Holy Quran are you getting this from?

Galid: Yeah, I am confused. Gender identity and expression? Sexual orientation? Are we not commanded to make the world unsafe for such abominations?

Ali: And tolerance of religious affiliation? I thought there was only one true God, Allah, and Mohammad is his prophet. There is no other religion. Is that not why Allah created the scimitar and the stone?

Galid: Are you sure this so-called safe space is not a filthy beguilement of the Jews?   I spit upon the safe spaces.  As Allah is my witness, no space will be safe.

Habib: Surely is Galid’s confusion warranted in this case. For I too am confused. Has not Allah decreed that there are no safe spaces for the homosexual and the infidel? Has not Mohammad said that even the rocks and the trees will cry out to us that ‘here is a Jew hiding behind me, come and kill it?’ Should we be more tolerant than these pure creations of Allah?

Corporate HR Imam: Fine. I’ll take your concerns back to corporate. In the meantime, please just sign the training forms so we can get this over with.

Galid: I spit upon the forms of training. They reek of the trickery of the Jews. Are you sure you are not a shape-changing Jew in disguise?

Bernie Sanders Action Figure (hurtling toward the HR Imam, its string dangling from behind): Marty, I think it is possible that you may be your own father. (bounces of the Imam’s chest)

Ali (whispering): So this one decides not to blow up.

Corporate HR Imam: Ok, who threw that?

Crowd (no one fesses up)

Corporate HR Imam: Any more attempts at my life and I will cancel the beheading demonstration and make the goat pens off limits for a month. I’m serious. I’ll just assume you all understand about the safe spaces, so let’s quickly move on to the last part of the training: Trigger Warnings.

(to be continued, maybe, if I feel like it)

I went to Pensacon on Friday. That’s the Pensacola Comic Con. It’s in Pensacola. But I bet you figured that out by now. I’m not much of a convention kinda guy, but The Doctor was there, and it was one I hadn’t met. Which is most of them.

Peter Davison, The Doctor (1982-1983: Stories 117 – 136).

Anyway, it was crowded. At least, the line to get in was crowded. I got sunburned from standing in line, and am still a little uncomfortable. I’m still more than frustrated over the line to get in. I’m kinda ticked off. And, I wasn’t the only one. Many in that line were not happy about it. But let me tell you about this one guy.

After two hours standing in the sun, we (that is, I and the people immediately around me) had advanced to near the stations where actual passes were issued. This is not as good as it sounds. All that meant was that we were now at the turn around point, and had to proceed through the queue that now moved away from the entrance back to the road, then back to the entrance and the passes stations.

When we got to the turn-around point near the entrance, we could see the six stations. They were numbered 1-6. Stations 1 and 2 were handling Will Call. That was us. We had purchased tickets ahead of time, already paid for them, had printout receipts from which our actual passes would be issued.

What about stations 3-6? Well, those were for on-site sales. People who hadn’t purchased tickets in advance, but simply wanted to walk up, hand over money, and go in.

How many were in the Will Call queue? Hundreds. Handled by two stations.

How many were in the On-Site Sales queue? None. Zero. Handled by four stations.

That made us not very happy. It made one person in particular not very happy. And he let them know about it.

Our Hero stood up on the railing, waved to get the attention of one of the cashiers (number 5, I think it was), and yelled out his questions.

“You not Will Call?”

She shook her head, unsure, it seemed, of where this conversation might go.

“People who haven’t already bought a ticket?”

The crowd was quiet now. All conversation had stopped. The Pensacola police officer a little ways down to the left hadn’t yet made his appearance. At least, I didn’t see him at that time.

“So if I get out of this line I’ve been in, go over there and give you money, I can get a pass right now and go on in?”

Number 5 slowly nodded.

Mr. Unhappy proceeded to march his unhappy ass through the queue and over to Station 5. She had left her post about that time, and had, it appeared, gone to get someone to deal with Loud Mouth.

With Station 5 abandoned, Loud Mouth went to the next station. Number 4 was a quiet, unassuming young lady, not quite sure what Fate had bestowed upon her.

“I want to buy a ticket to get in.” A credit card and driver’s licence was produced and handed to Number 4, who took it and began typing.

About that time, some young Bernie Sanders voter-looking fellow showed up and asked what was the problem.

“This is ridiculous. You got two people handling hundreds in Will Call and these four handling nobody. Whoever is in charge of this is incompetent. Is that you?”

BSV didn’t actually address the question, but said that there were three people handling Will Call, and four handling Sales. He didn’t explain how three stations plus four stations equals six stations. Bernie Sanders math, I suppose.

“That’s nuts. You got all these people done paid their money and they been waiting hours, and these people over here (pointing to Stations 3-6) not doing anything.”

“You need to calm down. Lower your voice.”

“You need to fix this.”

Number 4 spoke up. “He’s already in the system. He already purchased tickets.”

“That’s right. And I’ve been waiting hours in that line, while you got two people working that line. These other people, you need to put some resources on Will Call and get it moving.”

“We have three on Will Call and four on Sales.”

“You need to put your resources where the demand is.”

“Nobody else is complaining.”

It went back and forth. Finally, BSV said, “You’ve already paid. We’ll issue you your pass, and…”

“No no no no. All these people here? That would mean I’ve jumped them in line simply by being an ass. That’s wrong. No. Don’t do that to them. I’m not going to. I’m in the sales line, and I’m going to pay for another ticket. But you need to get this fixed.”

“We have three on Will Call and four on Sales.”

“And that’s not how you need to be doing it. If you knew anything about business, you’d put your efforts where they’re needed.”

I was unable to hear what BSV said as he left Number 4 to finish dealing with Our Hero.

The tone was lower now, and the conversation wasn’t audible to the front of the line, but there were smiles from Number 4 and Loud Mouth as they concluded the transaction.

With a look of both disgust and satisfaction, Mr. Unhappy then proceeded towards the doors, past the Pensacola police officer who seems to have been waiting to see how this would turn out. Approaching the doors, Loud But Not Vulgar stopped in mid step, then slowly proceeded to the long line to actually enter.

It was about 30 minutes before Our Hero made it into the actual building. It was about 30-45 minutes before the group Mr. Unhappy had been in queue with made it through the Will Call and to the next line.

Was he crazy? He was angry. Maybe crazy, too.

I was crazy. I got up early, drove to Pensacola, stood in line for hours, got inside, found Peter Davison, got his autograph on six DVDs, and left. That’s the only thing I was there for. Pensacon fell on a bad time again this year, but I’ve seen his appearance schedule and it was the best opportunity in 2016 for me to get Peter Davison’s signature.

So, ten hours total driving, a few hours in lines, and spending over $200 for autographs of one person? Yep, I’m thinking I’m the crazy one.

Pensacon, by the way, did assign some additional resources to Will Call. But not enough. After I got the autographs and left, the line was still stretched out to the driveway, down the sidewalk, and up to the road. Hundreds who had missed the Pre-Show entertainment.

I’m not sure who was the winner in all this. Peter Davison, I think.