Week Seven, part one

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the Henry Hudson Parkway (for it is in New York City that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness. Soon my mother's old Buick began to stall, and we were stranded somewhere around 130th Street hoping for help to arrive, or at least, nothing at all to happen.

Help arrived, we were towed to a side street and somehow eventually got to the Hell's Kitchen hotel just in time for me to avoid a first-round forfeit. I went on to beat the lower-rated blind guy, and then to share first place in the U1600 tourney for a prize of $2250. Meanwhile, in the concurrent NYC championship, Lev Alburt, Vitaly Zaltsman, Joel Benjamin et al. were fighting it out over nine days for $500. I felt like a kid at Woodrow Roosevelt High School, where the Joker had rigged the milk machine to dispense silver dollars (only where was Susie?). "Kid, there is no easy life in chess" advised the Hoffmann. Was he right? In Chou En-Lai's words, it is too soon to tell. In any case, thanks for the ride, Mom. And a million other things, but this is a chess blog and I'm not much of a memoirist. RIP. New York and Dallas, 3-1.