First In, Last Out

Kansas City, MO - Saturday, May 25, 2013

At various points in our life together, we have pitched the proverbial tent in service of a timed event. We've arrived three hours early for doorbuster sales. We've stood for five hours in a wind tunnel in the Rocky Mountains to see the first North American screening of "The Descent" [Jacob turns to Leighann, kisses her cheek and says, "I love you, dear"]. Our feeling is, if you go to great lengths to be there for something, you should make sure you get a good seat / place in line / television.

We don't know how early to arrive for George R.R. Martin's only book signing at ConQuesT 44. It is set for 11am, and Jacob starts the bidding at "7." Leighann is game, but the lady at registration yesterday had confided that the signing was never really announced, it was added to the schedule of events like an easter egg. "So you won't need to get here early or anything." We gave her a star for her helpfulness, but her advice goes completely against our instinct. It is only enough to convince us of a long snooze, and we anxiously arrive at the Holiday Inn a mere three hours early.

To find only one couple ahead of us. 

I guess if a woman with a shark on her head gives you advice, you should take it.

Being there early does allow us to people-watch as the convention comes to life and a healthy line forms behind us. By the time Mr. Martin appears the line is weaving in and out of a panel hall and around the corner toward the expo. And we're in the front of it.

Every fan at every George R. R. Martin book signing has probably the same thought in their head. "You should not be signing books right now. I mean, you can sign MINE, but then stop immediately. And get back to writing. Please." The last part may betray desperation, the hurrying whine of a kid who is afraid the ice cream truck will drive away before their parent hands over a dollar. I am sure some people even communicate this feeling, and I can't imagine the mixed emotions you feel as an author when fans clutch your books and all but mutter "Precious..." I mean, you've done something right, but still.

The actual receiving of a signature is over quickly. Martin has his scrawl down to a complex flick of the wrist, but as we turn to leave he notices Leighann's t-shirt. 

"What does your shirt say?" he asks.

"It says Zelda is the Girl," she replies.

"I don't know what that's from," he says, but his assistant jumps in at the same time, "It's true! And that's awesome!" She says this in an apparently native, Badger-from-Firefly British accent. What a perfect assistant.

Posted signs warned that Martin would not pose for photos and that he would only autograph two books per person. We brought five, one of them for a friend. Jacob puts one of his own aside in case we don't get to go through twice, but as we walk back out into the convention hallway Leighann insists we check the line before getting lunch. Sure enough, the line is noticeably smaller, and we hop in back of it. 

The man in front of us is hauling large bags of books on each arm. 

"What'd you bring?" he asks. 

"First Editions of A Storm of Swords, A Dance With Dragons, and Dreamsongs I & II," Jacob says. 

"You don't have a first edition A Feast For Crows?"

"Nope."

His hand dips into one of his bags. "Do you want one for $20?"

He is offering us a book that sold for $28.00 when it was new eight years ago, and can go for three times that when signed, which it is about to be.

"Um, absolutely?" 

Money and book change hands and he says, "Cool. Saves me a trip through line, and now I can pay for lunch."

We shuffle forward as the line moves. Then he asks, "Do you have a first edition A Game of Thrones?"

"No," Jacob says, looking toward his bag.

"Good luck!" he offers solemnly.

We eat at the hotel restaurant, then on a hunch check back at the signing room. The line is gone. George is not.