Sunday I went to see David Sedaris and I MET HIM. I got to the venue 2 hours early, assuming the entire sane world would do likewise. You see, last time Mr. Sedaris came to Pittsburgh I waited more than five minutes to buy tickets and he was sold out. The ticket taker told me, hopefully, "Well, his performance IS during Passover, so perhaps you'll have a shot at the waiting list." It was thicker than the phone book. I missed the show.
So there I sat, book in lap, with only about 15 other people. I got a prime aisle seat. I selected the third row rather than the front so I wouldn't be self conscious about crossing and recrossing my legs when my feet didn't reach all the way to the floor. Plus then I could prop up my stubby legs on the chair in front of me.
Anyway, Mr. Sedaris came super early, too. I got to talk to him. He asked me what I do, and I told him what I aspire to do: I am a sports writer. He then asked whether he might have read any of my work in America's Best Sports Writing and told me I would never have to worry about competition from him. Ever. He also told me he recently met a woman who studies spite in monkeys.
Finally, he signed my book thus:
His reading was marvelous. I love him even more now.