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Mud, Barbecue, and the Freight Elevator of Destiny | Community Connections with Ryan

Mud, Barbecue, and the Freight Elevator of Destiny: Chicago Roadshow 2025

By Ryan Gray

The thing about a community is, you don’t really know what it’s made of until something goes sideways. Not the kind of sideways that lets you grumble into your coffee and carry on—but the kind that forces a choice. Lean in or check out. Rally or retreat.

This year’s HETMA Roadshow in Chicago gave us one of those moments. And what I saw—the way people showed up, adjusted, and moved without ego—was the clearest signal I’ve ever seen of what we’re really building.

you don’t really know what it’s made of until something goes sideways

Let me back up.

The HETMA Roadshows were never meant to be about glitz or scale. From day one, the idea has been simple: bring people together—locally. Not everyone can make it to InfoComm or other national shows, and we wanted to meet folks where they are. Show some tech. Share some stories. Build real connections in a regional context. That’s always been the soul of it.

the idea has been simple: bring people together—locally

What people might not always see, though, is just how volunteer-powered these events are. Nobody’s getting paid to throw these. It’s people giving their time, energy, spreadsheets, and sweat—on top of their actual jobs. And that’s been especially true of my good friend Chris Dieterich, who’s been the national roadshow wrangler and Troy Powers of Northwestern who put his heart, soul, sweat and blood into this event. The logistics are not nothing.

So when we decided to return to Chicago for a second go at Northwestern University, there was a real buzz. Not only is it a beautiful campus, but this time, we had something special lined up: a waterfront outdoor event, right by Lake Michigan, complete with a whole hog barbecue and a sprawling lawn under a big white tent. A summer AV gathering with a view, a breeze, and a plate of pulled pork? Yes, please.

But as anyone who’s planned an outdoor anything knows, weather has its own agenda.

The night before the event, Chicago let loose with a full-blown thunderstorm. We’re talking lightning, thunder, and rain that didn’t just fall—it moved. By morning, the beautiful lawn we’d planned for had become a swamp. The tent held up fine, but the ground didn’t. Standing water. Mud everywhere. Zero chance of powering up AV gear safely, let alone inviting a hundred people to walk through it.

And this is the part of the story I really want you to hear.

Very early that morning, our HETMA crew—Chris Kelly, Teddy Murphy, Brittney Grant, Chris Dieterich, Troy Powers, Atkins Fleming, Dustin Meyers, and Brittany Mullins—got the call. I’m talking sunrise hours. No hand-wringing. No blame. Just action. They assessed the situation, made the call to move everything indoors, and got to work.

The backup space was in the student union, which sounds easy enough—until you realize it involved a freight elevator, a location right next to ongoing construction, and signage that had already been posted all over campus pointing people in the wrong direction. It wasn’t just “move it inside.” It was “reroute the event entirely while guests are already waking up and getting ready to arrive.”

And they did it. With help from vendors, sponsors, attendees—people who weren’t even scheduled to work the event—everyone just… pitched in. No titles, no silos, no “not my job.” Folks moved boxes, hauled gear, rearranged furniture, updated signage, and solved problems in real time. We opened our doors on time. That’s not just impressive—it’s rare.

No hand-wringing. No blame. Just action.

I walked through that room later in the day and just took it in. The conversations were rich. The content was great. People were connecting, laughing, demoing products, and sharing ideas. No one looked like they had just been rerouted by a monsoon. No one was sulking about a plan gone sideways.

And the barbecue? Saved. The BBQ team had camped out overnight in the middle of the storm—yes, camped out—and still served up that glorious whole hog. So after the sessions, folks trekked back outside and shared a meal together under now-sunny skies, passing plates and swapping stories. It wasn’t just a lunch. It was a reward.

No one was sulking about a plan gone sideways

I don’t want to gloss over how hard this was. Moving an entire expo setup with that many moving parts is brutal even when you’ve got a crew of full-time event staff. We had volunteers. Educators. Tech managers. Students. The people who made this happen are the same people who keep our classrooms running and our campuses connected—every day.

And we couldn’t have done it without the support of Northwestern, who truly stepped up in the moment. Daryll Krall of Panasonic deserves a special shoutout—he knows that campus like the back of his hand and was a huge help to me personally in making this transition happen. But the truth is, many at Northwestern played a role, and their generosity and responsiveness didn’t go unnoticed.

we couldn’t have done it without the support of Northwestern

So what do you learn from a day like that?

You learn that a community isn’t measured by how big its expo tent is. It’s measured by how fast it can adapt. How willing people are to help. Whether people see a problem and step forward or step aside.

And what I saw that day was a community that steps forward.

There’s no HETMA without moments like these. Without the people who don’t need to be asked. Without the quiet leaders who carry tables and rewrite signs and make strangers feel welcome.

I left Chicago feeling more sure than ever that we’re not just building something useful—we’re building something meaningful. And if you want to understand what makes this community tick, don’t just read a brochure. Don’t just follow us on LinkedIn. Find someone who was at the Chicago Roadshow. Ask them what happened. And then listen for the part where their voice gets a little lighter—when they talk about the pivot, the teamwork, the meal.

we’re not just building something useful—we’re building something meaningful

That’s the sound of a community doing what communities do best: showing up, together.

And I’m really glad I got to be there for it.