Book Signing Like a Rock Star

We gathered together like a herd of sheep in a pen too small to contain us. Shoulder to shoulder we swayed and fidgeted as one. The air crackled with electricity; a tingle ran down my spine; my underarms grew damp; our nervous chatter was hushed. I wished I had applied a little lipstick. We had all come to see, to meet one man.

“I see him,” someone said.

Our heads bobbled to the left, to the right, back and forth as if we were performing some kind of bizarre ritual. The source of our excitement was close. We felt him; we smelled him. He was here, somewhere among us, blending in with the crowd.

“I don’t see him,” someone sighed with disappointment. Collectively we sighed.

I pulled up the sleeves of my sweatshirt, wishing instead I had worn a cute little tank top to show off some too pale skin. I glanced at my watch. It was time. He should be here. He was.

“I see him!” someone screamed. Collectively we screamed.

As one we surged towards the bespectacled, balding man dressed in a black t-shirt and flip flops. All three-hundred of us crowded close, but fell just short of mobbing him. We jockeyed for position; all of us wanting to touch him, to take his picture, to hear him speak, and later to tell our friends that we had been one of the lucky few, okay one of the lucky three hundred, he had actually talked to.

You’d think Paul McCartney, the Pope, or even Miley Cyrus, had sauntered through the double-doors of Barnes and Noble, but it was only Sam. Only Sam? No, not ‘Only Sam,’ but Sam “The Cooking Guy!” Step back and recognize!

***

I clutched Sam’s book, Just a Bunch of Recipes, to my chest and practiced what I would say when it was my turn to have him sign my book….

Hi Sam. You’re so great! My husband and I are big fans!
Hi Sam. I’m going to a BBQ this weekend. What do you suggest I make?
Hi Sam, you’re so cute! Hee hee hee

Twenty minutes later I still hadn’t decided what I would say, but I had time. I pulled my yellow card from my pocket, #167. He hadn’t yet reached #20. I had a long ways to go, but towards the front of the store there was a commotion. Barnes and Noble had just sold the last of Sam’s books! People grumbled, a woman cried, I thought a fist fight might ensue. Many of those people had already been issued numbers, but had no book to sign and this was after all, a book signing. Their loss, however, was my gain. A man handed me his yellow card as he went out the door. #143! I giggled crazily with anticipation.

***

The line moved slower than a snail taking a nap. Actually, it didn’t really move at all, it just seemed like it did with people bouncing from one foot to the other to keep their legs from falling asleep. Absolutely everyone wanted their picture taken with Sam, to hug him (at least the women did), to tell him how good his recipes were, and to tell him how great he was. I was no exception, but I would have to wait my turn.

Finally, the moment I'd been waiting for. It was 10 p.m. and I’d been standing in line for a good 3-hours. I went over everything in my head. I decided I would tell Sam what big fans my husband and I were and ask him what I should make for the BBQ. He flashed his lovely smile and as I gazed into his twinkling eyes all cognizant thought flew from my head. I couldn’t speak. I merely held up my camera and the man in line behind me took a picture of us, then I thrust my book at Sam to sign. At last I found my voice. “You look tired,” I said. Good going Rae! Basically I told the man he looked like shit, but I got my cookbook signed and all was good in the world again.