The way I remember it, I tried to bear with some of the following speakers inanities. But not for long. The title was along the lines of “§¡¡™£¢∞§¶•ªº≠‘“πøˆ¥†®´∑œåß∂ƒ©˙˚¬…æ««æ÷≥≤µ˜∫√ç≈Ω`§¡™≠“øπœ∑«æ…÷≥≤µ˜∫√ç≈Ω`åß∂≠–“. Just kidding, that was, as you have guessed correctly, not the title, which was more something to the degree of “The Hospital as a Hotel: Overcoming the Madness of Health as a Human Right”. Unimpressed by most everybody’s sharp-eared attention to the professional blabber, nor any longer hypnotized by the almost seamless if mercifully scentless stream of eructations to my subjective right, I sauntered over to a desk neatly piled with print material. Trying hard not to think of helpless trees slaughtered for no good reason. Many an arcane, glossy professional journal on MedTech and how a technologically much-improved future awaits [this idea, tech as a power for the good, is fine but the mindless repetition in the absence of critical reflection is mind-clobbering].
It was the lovely name tag [“Young Lu”] and the friendly, smiling woman that had provided it for me that gave me second thoughts about leaving. But then I post-WWII-womaned-up and told myself that I had to reconstruct the single statement bricks that I had jotted down into a coherent, acceptable news brief. I departed the lobby shrouded in a nebula of profuse apologies, making references to the school, the purpose of the exercise, as well as the pressing concern of the dead-line, doing my enunciatory best to stress the first word of the compound.
A news brief to hopefully impress tomorrow’s lecturer as well as my fellow students, since, academically and intellectually speaking, I am something of a cheap-shot-warrior: in the beginning I go all out for a shock&awe&blahblah- campaign consisting of overwhelming amounts of comments, research and technical terminology so that, as the term progresses, all I need to do to keep projecting intellectual/geostrategic power in the class-room, is drop the occasional Foucaultian smart-[ass-]bomb.
Outside spring awaited my new, sartorially splendid self. I welcomed it back with a deep inhalation and wished the fountain could be on, joyfully spraying the spring air with Lake Lucerne water. Bjutiful day.