I moved to a new neighborhood towards the end of 2012. It’s the kind of neighborhood – rare today – where most people know or know of one another, many socialize together, and packs of children roam from house to house on weekends. When people come into our living area in our home, many notice my collection of boardgames, and many offer a comment. (If they realized I have about 1/10th of my collection visible, they’d comment differently, I’m sure.) More than once during the first few months I was in town, neighbors suggested that I meet this guy who lives a few blocks away, because “he’s into boardgames as much as you are.”
In twenty years of playing ‘designer’ boardgames, I’ve heard this comment enough to be a little skeptical when someone claims to be ‘into it’ like me: both because (a) it’s unclear whether or not ‘they’ distinguish between “Bananagrams” and “Die Macher”, and (b) I’m pretty ‘into’ it, spending as much time as I can spare either reading about game titles, listening to podcasts about them, reading the rules, or playing them with friends and family. (It just gives me joy, what can I say?)
So, suffice it to say that when I knocked on Alex’ door for the first time, I was looking at my watch, questioning whether my time would have been better spent perusing the rules to an “Alhambra” expansion.
It would not have been better spent that way.