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          I almost didn't go on this particular trip. I couldn't find anyone who wanted to go with me, and I really wasn't up for driving all that way alone, not sure where I was staying, nor did I want to impose on anybody. But a couple of weeks before Chaz had found out through the grapevine (being that he doesn't have a phone, grrr) that I was going, and he'd had the days off to go. Chaz is one of the few people who has read just about all of Neil's major works, but had never met him. Needless to say Chaz was a little more excited than me to go.

          For me, I needed to go on this trip. I was having all kinds of stress on my life, from family and friends and sort of exes. My father passed away in December, and I was re-reading Neverwhere at the time. Neverwhere has become my Comfort Book. I've read it in all kinds of rough patches. I was primed to at least get out of town, do a lot of driving. I was in need of a good story.



          At the last minute, Treasure went with us, and my friend Lisa with her fiancee Chris were in town for the weekend and I'd asked them if we could stay with them in Fresno while we were up there, and they were happy to have us. We all caravaned up there on a Monday with no problems at all. When we stopped in Mojave for gas, Treasure changed out the CD and put in the audio version of Coraline as a kind of sneak preview before Tuesday night. Treasure had read the Sandman series, but not much else, and wasn't sure what she was in for. All she knew was that she was excited to go.

          We awoke Tuesday a little early to get ready to go, and with directions in hand, we headed out to San Fransisco. We'd planned on going to Fisherman's Wharf for a little sightseeing and maybe shopping before heading back over to Berkeley.

          Without it being too crazy, we finally got to Oakland, over the Bay Bridge into San Fransisco. We wandered around Fisherman's Wharf for awhile, ate a little, and I bought some things for people back home.

          We ended up leaving about two hours before the will call was supposed to open at the church, mostly because we were getting chilled by the breeze off the bay and we'd pretty much walked around and saw everything we wanted to look at. It was a good thing, too, as even at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, traffic coming off the bridge was hellish, as I'd expected. It was strange because I was starting to get more familiar with the streets down by the Embarcadero, starting to recognize where things were. I'm not sure if I'll ever be as familiar with San Fransisco as I am with L.A., but it was nice to feel a little more comfy there.



          After getting a little lost in Berkeley, we finally found the First Congregational Church. Parking was easy to find, as there were a couple of actual lots around so I wouldn't have to worry about having a pile of tickets on my car like last year. Yes, I'm still rolling my eyes about that, too. Honestly, I think I spent more money last year on paying off tickets rather than actually buying Neil-related stuff. (But that's a different story.)

          There was a small line in front of the church when we got there a little before five. (I think there were actually a couple of campers, sitting on a blanket playing cards.) Chaz and Treasure went off to find the bathroom and I kept our place in line warm. Will call opened up and I got my tickets with a receipt, and I think it was when I saw my tickets that I realized fully where I was. I'd been so concerned for the past couple of days about not getting lost that I'd almost forgotten why it was exactly that I was standing there. I was there to see some friends, and see a good story being told by a good storyteller, and to forget about the world for awhile.

          Of course, there was talk about the reading ironically taking place in a church, and for us Thingies, about it taking place on a Tuesday. (If you aren't a Thingie, it's a long story that I'm not going to get into here-- basically a group of Thingies together is a Tuesday of Thingies. Just join the newsgroup and find out for yourself exactly what it means, neener.)

          While we were all waiting for the doors to open, I got hugs from Walker and Michelle, who were both busy behind the scenes getting a hold of people and taking pictures. I felt back in some weird groove again, and introducing my friends into the Thingie world was an even stranger meeting of realms.

          Not even two steps into the church, Walker bekons me to the side. "For what?" I ask. "I'm gonna film you talking about Neil." "And where is this going?" "Possibly on the HarperCollins website," he says. "Oh," I said.

          So I stand there, feeling like I should be all made up, and Walker says, "Okay, why are you here to see Neil?"

          "Um," I say. "Other than the fact that Neil doesn't come down to Vegas often (sorry, had to say it), he's one of those storytellers that you have to see. He's an inspiration to me, as I'm sure he is to other people, and going to one of his readings is a magical experience." Something like that.

          I was also pointed out by the Librarian lady from Las Vegas, and we had a nice chat about trying to get authors out to Vegas, especially Neil since I know of a at least a good cafe full of people who would go see him read. Really, out here in this place, people do really read. I swear. We actually buy books.

          And inside was very pretty.

          



          They'd set up a chair for Neil to sit in the middle of the altar space, with an otherwise creepy big doll named Gretchen who subsequently now lives with Michelle.

          After I found where Chaz and Treasure were sitting, I sat down, counted that we were about seven rows from the front, and got my bearings. I broke out some candy I'd bought to keep me a little hyper during the reading, I set my stuff down and went about getting a copy of the book to read along with. The long line had pretty much transformed from outside to the middle of the lobby, and I pointed to a woman with a very cool shirt that said, "These are not my Scary Trousers." If you were in L.A. last year for that story, you'd know, even though the actual joke comes from the Well. (Oddly enough, as I'd started making this page, I was watching From Hell on my television. It's pure coincidence, I swear.)

          While Chaz watched my place in line I took a pre-reading potty break, and I almost waited too long because he was almost at the front of the line when I returned.

          I picked up the book that was on top of the closet pile in front of me, and with the ticket it was 3 dollars less, which I think they should do at every event, whether it's musical or authorial. (Is that even a word? I just made it up.)

          When we got back to our seats, the girl next to us struck up a conversation with Chaz about where we'd come from, and the inside of her book was signed, as was mine. I'd forgotten they were all pre-signed copies. But when I saw hers, I looked in mine and it seemed that I'd picked up a more detailed drawing that was, compared to the little sketches of moons and angels and Morpheuses I'd gotten last year, pretty disturbing. Maybe it was the kind and color of pen he was using this time around, I'm not sure.



          I think we actually sat there for about half an hour, checking my watch to see what time it was, before a man came out and said that Neil would be starting late in order to let the last of the stragglers in and get the whole thing.

          So, while we waited, I gave Treasure the Tarot reading she'd been asking me about for the past few days, telling her everything that she needed to hear but didn't really want anyone to tell her, which is pretty much the point of any reading unless you already know and the cards won't work for you.



          We broke out the Skittles, the sour apple rings, and the Now & Laters and tried to get comfortable in the pews. You know, even if they are padded, they're still pews, and when you know you're in it for the long hawl trying to find just one comfortable position is like trying to find the Holy Grail. Er, so to speak.

          As Chaz looked at my watch, a little before seven, and said, "I don't think he's coming out," Neil quietly walked out, and the loud applause lasted for a good minute or so.

          After the mic was adjusted, Neil made his introductions. He thought for a minute about updates on movie stuff, and introduced Harry Selnick, the director of The Nightmare Before Christmas, who stood up and waved; Neil said that Selnick was directing Coraline and had lined up Michelle Pfeiffer to play the other mother in the screen version. It got some pretty loud applause.

          Those of us on the inside track knew this stuff last year. Har.

          What was really nice was that because it was a church, the acoustics were very nice, and the mic was clear, so when things happened, it was as if they happened all around you. It was slightly creepy and slightly comfy at the same time. Don't ask.

          He also said that Tori's new album was wonderful, "And that's all I'm going to say about that."

          Other than that, there wasn't much else to say except, "I'm going to read the whole of Coraline," whereupon Neil sat on the chair and started with Chapter One.

     

     





part two