In which our hero geeks out over a blogger.
As I mentioned to some of you over the weekend, I actually stayed in Georgetown late into the night last Thursday, something I generally avoid. I had good reason, as Will Leitch was in town for a book reading and signing at the Barnes and Noble (two blocks up the street from my office). Who is Will Leitch, you ask, and well you might. He's best known as the editor of Deadspin, a witty little sports blog where I waste much of my time. When I'm feeling especially clever, I even chime in on the often-amusing comment threads. Will has just had his third book published: God Save the Fan, a collection of insightful and funny essays about the pitfalls of being a modern sports fan. For anyone who's seen Empire Records, this was like my very own version of Rex Manning Day.
Since I had nowhere else to be until the reading started at 7:00, I bit the bullet and hung around the office for two extra hours (GROAN). A little after 6:30, I wandered over to the B&N and navigated my way to the third floor, where the employees were setting up chairs as other pasty twentysomething white guys milled about awkwardly, thumbing through books they had no intention of purchasing. By 6:50, we started claiming our seats, most of us staring straight ahead in silent, antisocial anticipation. Hoping to break the tension, I struck up a conversation with the friendly-enough-looking guy sitting to my left. His name was Dave, he was from Los Angeles, and he was an undergrad at American University. He also had a lisp, but there's not much he could do about that, I suppose. At about 7:00, the young woman who had been setting up the chairs stepped up to the podium and announced that Will was running late; his train had just arrived at Union Station. Having made the commute from Laurel to Union Station to Georgetown for the past three years (gulp), I knew that he'd be lucky to get there in thirty minutes. So the stilted conversations and shuffling around continued. For a while, I busied myself with the free demo of Tetris on my cell phone.
Much to my relief, Will hustled in at about 7:30. He announced that he was usually meticulous enough to show up two hours early, but had been held behind in Philadelphia by what was classified as a "track obstruction". He eventually learned the details; some woeful fellow had thrown himself onto the tracks and taken his own life. "Now suicide is nothing to laugh about," Will said as half of the crowd chuckled, "But if this guy had only known that he would be regarded as a 'track obstruction'...he probably would have gone ahead and done it all over again."
After a brief introduction and some opening remarks about the premise of his book, the author admitted that he usually finds book readings boring and sort of pompous; the author is basically just proving that he can in fact read. So in an attempt to liven things up, he would require audience participation for a staged reading of his interview with racist cracker/ex-Braves pitcher John Rocker. I have to admit, I was well prepared for this, as Will had been blogging on Deadspin about his previous readings. He announced that he would play the role of John Rocker, although his impression of the athlete was a willful exaggeration ("if anything, it sounds more like my dad"). But to read Will's own questions and remarks, he would need someone with "the voice of Zeus". So I raised my hand slowly but with authority, trying to play it cool. He pointed to me, asking me to say something first. I said the first thing that came to mind, which was - intelligently enough - "...Okay." He approved, and called me up to the podium, though he swore that he wouldn't have turned me away even if my voice had been high-pitched and squeaky. There were no willing volunteers for the role of Rocker's black fitness model girlfriend (yes, really), until the male companion of one of the half-dozen females in the crowd gleefully volunteered her. The reading went well; I think I was laughing whenever I wasn't reading my parts. Since it was the one essay in the book that had previously appeared on the blog, Will spiced it up by adding footnotes to the text, which he read aloud himself while holding up a sign indicating said footnotes. You can see visual evidence of me grinning like an idiot right....here:
After the reading, I took my seat and Will answered a few questions from the rabble. Having staked out my seat near the front, I was one of the first to get my book signed. It reads: "Kevin - you make a great me. Will Leitch". Indeed, I spent the rest of the evening accepting compliments from random strangers about my acting prowess. A nice little icebreaker, if nothing else.
The really cool thing about this book tour is that Will commissioned friends and acquaintances at each stop to arrange a post-party open to the public. In this instance, we gathered right down the street at Old Glory, where we were ushered upstairs...to the open-air deck. Sure, it was a bit cold, but the alcohol and body heat from a large gathering of people helped. With the wristbands that had been passed out at the reading, we were able to take advantage of a special on Bud Light and rail drinks. So I spent a few hours just shooting the shit about sports with random dudes, and yes that is pretty close to my idea of a good night. The party hosts had had their fill of the cold winter air by 11 PM, and started moving the party downstairs. But I had a Metro train to catch (boo), so I gave Will my drunken congratulations, found Dave (who was also going home by the Green Line), and staggered off to Foggy Bottom. I made it home in one piece (even with the snow starting to fall harder), and gleefully slept through the morning, secure in the knowledge that I had already taken off from work on Friday.
To sum up: Reading + Alcohol + Sports Chat = Fun. I'll post another entry soon with my updated reading list, for reals.