An infinite river of nerds. That’s the only way I can describe it. In all honesty, I had no idea what to expect – but it certainly wasn’t this.

Last month, I attended a gaming tournament for the Super Smash Bros. game series. Sponsored by Nintendo and hosted at 16 Gamestops across the country, the tournaments celebrated the new 3DS edition of Nintendo’s legendary fighting series. At each event, 64 gamers competed in four-player matches until one emerged victorious to win a grand prize of $250, a 3DS XL, a copy of “Super Smash Bros.,” and a trip to New York City for a chance to compete in a national tournament.

I was in it to win. After finding a secret code on an online forum that allowed me to play the demo early, I practiced for two weeks until I mastered the highest-level computerized opponents in three-on-one battles. But was I ready to face experts?

The night before the tournament, I bought the game after school and practiced until my hands ached with exhaustion. While I knew that professional players would be at the tournament, they certainly couldn’t be that prepared.

That morning I left the house at 7:30 and drove an hour to Gamestop. Because gamers weren’t allowed to start lining up until 9, I assumed that I was in the clear. But as my car pulled into the plaza parking lot, I saw it.

The nerd river.

A massive number of gamers huddled by the Best Buy near the Gamestop. They stood in a long, makeshift line and every one of them was vigorously punching buttons on their 3DS. I quickly ran to the back of the queue, knowing my chances of being one of the 64 entrants were slim.

“I’ve been here since 5 a.m.,” one guy said, tussling his neckbeard.

To pass the time, I engaged in some battles with the gamers around me. However, despite beating the hardest computers with ease, I could not defeat these geeks in battle. Their fighting style was brutal. They killed me instantly, then had their characters taunt me with sarcastic waves as Pikachu exploded.

It dawned on me then that these nerds had probably acquired the Japanese version of the game, which had been released a month ago. While my demo allowed access to just one course and five playable characters, they had been practicing with the full roster and all the courses.

As I resumed waiting, hoping to get a spot by divine intervention, I examined the line while the Gamestop manager began to hand out stickers to the first 64 in line. Although the crowd was full of odd folks, the thing that struck me most wasn’t the dude in a complete Link cosplay – it was that, besides me, in this crowd of over a hundred people, there was only one other girl.

Suddenly, a fight broke out a few people in front of me.

“He cut!” someone roared, pointing his 3DS at the accused.

A tall, buff man had skipped the line, and the cutoff was imminent. The Gamestop manager was frantically breaking up people. Accusations were being flung faster than you could say “Super Smash Bros. Melee.” After some yelling, the manager kicked the offender out of line as the crowd cheered. Everything calmed down, and the manager continued to hand out the last few stickers.

The people directly in front of me were a group of friends. There were three of them but only two stickers left. They conducted a heated game of rock-paper-scissors, and the loser hung his head as his friends snatched up the last tournament spots without remorse. I had never seen a more sorrowful gamer in my life.

Unfortunately, after an hour of driving, weeks of practice, and enduring the weirdest line ever, I had missed the cut. Sixty-four people were allowed in, and I was number 66.

It was disappointing, but perhaps it was for the best. Never knowing if I would’ve won the tournament is arguably better than getting publicly destroyed by geeks in a broadcasted contest. I left the line, grabbed a smoothie, and contemplated the morning.

Perhaps it seemed like this would be a story about how I kicked geek butt, won the contest, snatched the prize money, and crushed the gamer patriarchy with girl power. While that is (unfortunately) not how it went down, one thing is for certain: I will never forget that river of nerds.