Oct 06, 2008 23:10
On my way to Chicago (connecting me to St. Louis) I got onto my plane in Philadelphia. I was walking in the door, luggage in tow, and lifted my head up to get my bearings. Sitting in the first seat of first class? Neil Motherfucking Gaiman. Did i mention i was clutching my very worn copy of "Smoke and Mirrors" in my hand as I was boarding. His eyes slightly widened and flicked to the book in my hand then up to my face and back to the book. At this point I was sure it was him (his picture is on the back of the book!) but still wasn't sure enough to make an ass out of myself. I managed a quick "Hi" in which he responded with a "Hello" and I trudged to my seat at the back of the plane. My flight was only an hour and a half long. And between the 15 minute take off and the other 20 minutes of the beverage cart I worked up the balls to take me book and a pen and make the long journey to first class. This wasn't the easiest of 300 feet. Every eye watched me walk up to first class. I was so afraid I'd had some hostile flight attendant throw me back into coach. I walked up and stood next to the seat only to find him- asleep. Shit. It was him. He had his iconic leather jacket draped over him like a blanket and a journal on the seat next to him. I stared awkwardly and then went back to my seat. I was on the aisle so spent every moment craning my neck to see if he would wake up to use the bathroom s I could seize the chance to walk up to him again. No such luck. The plane landed and I missed the opportunity to talk to my favorite living author. Bugger.
The rest of the weekend was awesome as well.