|Me trying to look all hip and urban while chatting|
up one of my favorite authors. When actually I'm
feeling all silly and excited.
I've decided Whit and I were by far the coolest people there tonight, and after hearing that someone in another city tailgated for her book signing, you totally know what we're doing next time she rolls into Phoenix. Vodka in the parking lot, ladies. No one can rock a tailgate better than me, and you know it. Football, books, whatever. I'm in.
So of course, my big night could not be without a little dramergency (I just made up that word). As we were waiting in line with our priority pink wrist bands that still left us 3/4 of the way to the end of the line to have our books signed, I realized that Mother Nature had decided it was the perfect time to wreak a little havoc. (If you are squeamish reading about Aunt Flo and the Special Time of the Month, you might want to tune out now.) Ever since I had baby #3, got my tubes tied, and quit taking birth control, things are a little more, shall we say, erratic when Aunt Flo visits, and sometimes you have that "oh dear god" emergency. Well, we had finally wound our way up to the front of the line with only like 4 or 5 folks in front of us when said emergency struck, and I knew that I had absolutely no choice but to go take care of business.
So my linemates assure me that I can make it (I totally lied and told them I needed to pee...funny, I have no problem sharing the gory details with everyone and their mother on a blog), and promise to let me back in line when I return. But I know I'll be cutting it close. And the restroom is, quite literally, on the absolute farthest opposite corner of the store. I know I don't have much time - I'm going to either lose my spot in line, or have a horribly embarrassing accident.
I motor to the restroom and, of course, one stall is out of order and the other two are full. I wait. Wait. The line to see Jen L. is moving without me. Wait. Until finally one is free - and without going into gory detail, what I will share with you is that this was a lower than low flow toilet. Which means anything more than one square of TP is going to have issues getting sucked into the pipes. So I had to flush. And flush. And flush.
There is a line in the restroom, too, and I know they are people from the book signing. And since I totally asked a couple of awesome and memorable questions during the Q&A earlier I just know everyone will recognize me. So there's no sneaking out in shame and hiding in the aisles. I have to get back to that line before it's my turn, and I absolutely, positively cannot leave this stall until this toilet does what it was designed to do.
Panicked, I continue to flush. And flush. Really. And once everything does eventually get whisked away and I get to leave the stall, these ladies are going to be looking at me thinking, what on earth was she doing in there? All while the line is inching up and I'm going to miss my chance to impress Jen.
All's well that ends well - finally, on like the 8th flush, the ordeal was over and I jogged through the store to make it to my spot. Close call, indeed. But I made it.
And I have to say is that if I make it big and my publisher/agent sends me out on book tours, there is absolutely no way that I could smile, take photos, chit chat and be fresh and funny with hundreds of strangers, one after the other, as I sign all their books. For this skill alone, Jen L., I am completely in awe.
Anyway, thanks Whit for a fun night, and thanks Jen L. for being exactly who you portray yourself as in your books. So damn funny. And let us know what you want at our tailgate.