Once the news dropped on StarCraft 2, the journalists headed into one of three designated press rooms to file their stories using the wired internet access (the wireless network in the stadium inconveniently crashed, at least for me anyway). If you were unable to get your wireless internet to work and were unable to find an open space in the press room... well, too bad. But it's just as well: as the hot day went on, the press room began to smell more and more like the inside of a hobo's shoe. Not to mention what our companion GH Pete dubbed "the grubby-journalist-hand sandwiches" -- the complimentary sustenance immediately ruined by the filthy hands of frantic gaming journalists and/or the stench of 30 of them crammed into one small area. Bon appetit!
The only sound you can hear in here is the clicking of laptop keyboards.
The aforementioned tainted sandwiches slathered in mayonnaise and Lord knows what.