Several weeks back an experimental theatre group moved in across the hall from the club. Early on we had a few problems with them since their primary activity seemed to consist of loud group yelling and grunting sessions. Fortunately a couple of conversations with the landlord and with them appears to have amicably addressed our concerns.
In any case, when I arrived at the club at about 6:15 pm last evening, I noticed several members of the theatre group milling about in the hallway. Since there was still 45 minutes to go until games were scheduled to begin, the club was fairly empty. Charles Riordan was sitting at a board in the main playing room reading; I headed into the back room and started talking with Bernardo.
A few moments later one of the aspiring thespians peeked into the playing room, looked around a bit and said, "You sure have a lot of chess tables in here."
"Yes," Charles replied, "We've managed to collect quite a few over the years."
Mr. Perceptive followed up, "Wow! Is this like some kind of chess club or something?"
Bernardo and I could barely contain ourselves.
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