By Len Kruger
It’s just a bunch of dudes. Nobody’s talking. In the center of the room, a tight circle of red metal chairs.
I go up to one guy. “Hey, man,” I say. “Where are the ladies?”
He’s this little shrimp with a crew cut and wearing a plain white T-shirt. He tells me the women are meeting in a separate room and that after the concurrent workshops are over, they’ll join us.
“There’s a party, right?” I ask. “That’s what the ad said.”
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