The tournament directors gaze washes over the field of green tables. Almost every players face is familiar. She knows how they look, how they are dressed, to whom they like to talk to before they start the play, and which ones that are sometimes unruly.
Around the top playing teams tables there is already a small crowd waiting, eager to watch the elite’s every move. Their tables are carefully placed at the top end of the room, to allow enough space for the audience that soon will be surrounding them on all sides.
Some of the kibitzers are there to try and catch some of the elite players magic, others are there to offer their opinions on the play, and some are there to see and be seen.
A new face enters through the door, and the tournament director follows his move through the narrow aisles, looking a bit overwhelmed and confused. He seems to have noticed the messiness at table 1, with all the kibitzers huddled against the players it almost looks like there are 12 players at the table, instead of four. Apparently he understands that this table must have something extraordinary to offer, and he duly walks towards it. He finds a spot behind one of the players who is currently contemplating a problem of some sort. The man with the unknown face says something to he man standing next to him, who curtiously whispers something brief back. A couple of annoyed looks are directed to the new face, who quietly turns his focus to the play.
The play goes on, some kibitzers leave, either for home or for some other table that happens to look more interesting for the moment. Come pause, the discussions are lively, both between the players and the kibitzers. The noise reaches a peak and then slowly dies out as the players return to the tables and resume play.
-Kristin Nedlich
archandphil 
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