text: And we're finally here. Welcome to FIRST Power Up. It's the qualifiers, and it's insane. Sixty-something teams are gathering together from all over New York and a couple of neighboring states to compete for the next two days.
  
  I make my way into the schoolyard, which has been transformed by hanging banners for every school. I head up to the front door, which is harder than it sounds as I am literally being "lovingly greeted" by members of our spirit team at every turn. It seems Janelle has them out in full force, welcoming every competitor with, "Thoriums thank you for this honor of competition."
  
  And even though it strikes me as a bit street corner accost-ish, as opposed to graciously professional, I have to admit it seems to be going over really well. But then again, everyone is so incredibly psyched to be here, I think everything is pretty high on the happy-making scale right now.
  
  Janelle sees me swerving to avoid a group of cheering crosstown rivals, nearly taking out an unsuspecting greeter on my left. She laughs, blows a playful kiss across the yard. I air catch it in my fist and double tap my heart before heading in the main doors into even more madness.
  
  See? Lighthearted. High spirits. Antics everywhere. Even me.
  
  Teams, coaches, parents, guests, and more or less the entire world are making their way toward the gymnasium, with groups stopping to hold last-minute meetings, organize signs, and whatever else all the whispers, shouts, giggles, and occasional tears mean.
  
  As I watch a young girl racing to the bathroom, followed worriedly by, I am guessing, a coach, I realize how far I've come. Freshman year, I will acknowledge that might have been me.
  
  If I thought the hallway was busy, the cacophony as I enter the gym is one wall of sound. I take a minute to let my ears adjust, spot my parents, who are in their predetermined seats, sitting with Imani, Vik and Jimmy's folks, of course. Pause for a quick wave. And then, keep moving.
  
  Slowly.
  
  We are one incredibly raucous, jumbo party, with many appendages flying every which what way, and no matter which what way I move, I am still caught in that whole swimming upstream thing. Through the River of Nerds. Duck. Into the Deluge of Geeks. Dodge. Upstream through a Swarm of Trekkies, which is so totally cool. Vulcan salute. Sidestep. Stop for air. And start all over.
  
  But everyone is laughing, "pardon-ing," "scusing." I keep treading and finally manage to snake my way through to Thorium-land, located right at the arena's edge, with most of my toes intact.
  
  My last few feet are easy as Marcus sees me, and bam, smiles wide and sexy, which is the cue for other people to turn and see why he is smiling, and lo and behold the crowd makes way for me. Well, really for him. Dang.
  
  I see Vik and Ari are already here, and, yep, here come Jimmy, Imani, and Trey shouldering through from the other side.
  
  The clock has already begun a formal countdown. As the hosting school, we are scheduled to be first up.
  
  Question: why is it all school mics come with screeching feedback?
  
  Answer: to signal in the most despicable, painful way possible we are to not only be ready for, but pay attention to, the welcoming remarks.
  
  Which are interrupted constantly by the usual generic appropriate applause, mostly from parents and teachers, but in addition, all these random spirit cheers keep popping up, and now someone has gone and launched a jumbo balloon, which is being batted throughout the bleachers.
  
  Thoriums, at least the playing squad, have no time for such merriment. We are quietly huddling, reviewing last-minute notes and finalizing, one last time, our strategy.
  
  Which did get kind of tricky at one point. Each drive team has five people, one of whom is a technician. Each team has three drive teams. As you can guess, we were left short one technician. Gone to Singapore. Lah.
  
  Dee. Dah.
  
  I picked Jean.
  
  Which really wasn't all that hard for me. He really is good. Not as good as me, but hey. So few are. I know, sometimes amusing myself is way too much fun.
  
  But as rarely happens, in this case my choice is good for the school, too. It is weird to realize it and for a moment kind of sad, but none of us will be here next year to participate. We will all be dreaded freshmen again at some university somewhere. Leaving a proven legacy player will help next year's bumper crop of Smither's Suckers, as even now, I already like to think of them.
  
  So we are all good, right up until it gets tricky again. Only this time, it was kind of my fault. Well, not really. Vik and Marcus were taking two of the "coach" positions, and Smitty was going to be the third. And then they came to me. To tell me they wanted me to be the third. Which blew me away. I was honestly shocked. But I did say yes.
  
  So now Jean is my technician. Because their suggested replacement nominee was Aaron ...and to that I did say no. In no uncertain terms. Slurp.
  
  Yes. That was mean. But I don't feel all that bad.
  
  And now, deep breath, we are sorted and it is "go" time. Marcus gives one last "Thoriums Rule" rah. We step forward for our first-round challenge, and I know I am ready. I look at Jean, fist bump, "We have so got this."
  
  It's game on.
  
  And as we start and the surface lights up, I feel the smile growing on my face. We cross the auto-line perfectly, drivers take over, and I am ecstatic, elated, and truly mostly thrillieved.
  
  Back when Scott and I were recoding, we got into a rip-roaring argument that went on for a couple of days. I believed our best approach to the course was going to be to take no approach. My thinking was most teams are going to look at the course and say "we're blue; remember we need to start on the left." Which is exactly where we had been when we started.
  
  I put up a huge fight to code what felt counterintuitive, no left/no right, but rather code the bot to go down the middle and we determine it from there.
  
  We did finally agree, or I just wore him out, and we recoded, with the gamble that we will shoot dead center and trust the quickness of Jimmy's reflexes to claim the scale one touch faster. A huge payoff if we're right.
  
  And now we are here. The moment of truth. Will the move I know appears to be the slower one actually be the quicker move because we won't have to override a commitment based on where the scale falls?
  
  It's been so long since we bagged and tagged our equipment and, I don't know, chased a kidnapper across the globe, I forgot how much I had riding on this opening.
  
  Auto mode switches to driver control. Jimmy moves and ...slam dunk!
  
  We've got control of the switches. And the scale. And now our third bot, slower on speed but built to corner, is loading a cube and heading to the vault.
  
  Where we agreed, this time without a fight, not to worry about anything other than first filling the Levitate column. That option buys us one free robot climb up the scale at the end, and that's our first aim. After that, we check where we have held ownership best, either the scale or the switches, and then attempt to fill that boost column accordingly.
  
  And as I'm watching Marcus deliver a power-up cube through the portal exchange, my eye catches sight of my competitor in the alliance station next to it. She has dark hair and greenish eyes, and all of a sudden her hands are flying to emphasize something as she tells a slim, dark-haired young man next to her something.
  
  And yes. I am a smitten kitten.
  
  One who is jolted out of a staring, gaping daze by a burst of screaming, jumping, and hugging. Scott's flashing me a thumbs up sign. Jimmy and Marcus are chest bumping. And I look up to realize we have three robots dangling from the scale. Vik and Ari grab me in a big hug. And from over a shoulder, in case I hadn't put two and two together yet, the final scoreboard tells me we have won our first round.
  
  Was it all a blur or a blank? Hard to say. Let's just go with, I don't exactly remember all the details.
  
  However, as I squeeze out of the hug sandwich, I do suddenly remember with stunning clarity how a large part of participating in FIRST Robotics is being a Gracious Professional.
  
  I should do that.
  
  So while the gang starts to exit our station, heading to the left, making way for the next team up, I head right. And even though I know I'm being watched, I don't stop. I slip away from Thorium-land and make my way over to the other side, until I find my competitor, standing with the same guy she was arguing with when I spotted her in their Alliance Station.
  
  "Hey." I walk right on up and smile. "Ummmm, you guys were really great."
  
  And the closer I get, the more amazing her eyes are. They're actually a very pure, very pale green color, which I can see quite clearly because they are closely watching me, even as she says nothing.
  
  So now I have two choices, one of which is to fake some kind of smile, turn and make like a banana and split, which presumably would have the added bonus of lessening the pounding of my pulse in my jaw. But I ignore option one and go for the second choice, adjusting my glasses and doing something I have never done.
  
  "My name's Sid. And I was wondering if you wanted to go get something to eat. I mean maybe later. I know we still have races to do and stuff."
  
  And as I finish, she gives me a look I'm not sure how to interpret, abruptly turns to the guy who is still there, and as her hands start moving, I realize she's signing. And whatever she is signing has grown into a rather animated back and forth, until finally the guy rolls his eyes and turns to me.
  
  "My name is Joe." And as he speaks, I am listening closely because I realize that he, too, is deaf, and he has the slightly high-pitched tone of someone who speaks from their throat and not their diaphragm. "And she says to tell you to come back when you can ask her directly."
  
  And with that, Joe shrugs, looks back to the girl and gestures the you-don't-have-to-be-deaf-to-get-it splayedhands shrug, meaning, "happy now?"
  
  And with that, they both turn and start walking away.
  
  And I shout after them, "Tell her we have a date," only to realize that's probably not my best move. It is, however, a perfectly proper example of something falling on deaf ears. Which is probably not funny to a deaf person. But maybe it is. I honestly don't know.
  
  And I stand here, scanning the crowd, which has swallowed them up, for about thirty seconds while I debate whether or not I should be feeling deflated, but nah. I think, you know what? I think I am feeling— challenged.
  
  And I, Sid the Kid, I am up for this. I accept this challenge. I will find her. And when I do, I will ask her myself.
  
  Turn on heel. Walk away. Add a little swagger.
  
  Got to go get started with a plan.
  
  And then pause. 'Cause you know what I'm thinking? This would be easier if I'd gotten her name. And then un-pause. Because you know what? I'm not worried. If I can find some random dude in Anhui Province, I got this.