today was spent at the 4th annual book festival on the mall. it’s a great scene — lots of authors reading from their books, signing books, selling books, and a pavillion of the states where idaho was giving away little spud-shaped lapel pins. it’s sponsored by the library of congress and laura bush — that is to say, a subtle hint from the first lady to the president that it’s time he learn to read. true, an expensive way to do it, but since a few thousand other people enjoy it, i’m all for it. educate the president any way we can, i say.

but let’s face it. i didn’t really go for the books. i went for the men. two in particular, although due to a queuing snafu, it wound up being just one. i wanted my first edition trade paperback of “books of magic” signed, as well as my copy of endless nights. i wanted to see douglas adams’ literary heir in person. i wanted to bask in the presence of neil gaiman — or at least spend hours waiting in line to do so. i also wanted to see neal stephenson, but that didn’t work out due to my single-minded search for a gaiman sighting. (jim lehrer and peter straub were also on my list, but when the 10 am line for gaiman’s book signing was more than 100 people strong at 9:30, the list got shortened. sorry, jim, peter.)

i didn’t get within pen distance of gaiman during my first stint in line (about two hours’ worth of shuffling). the line monitors (yup, just like bus monitors) capped the fan line right in front of me at about 11:30 and announced they were moving us all over to the line for his 2:00 pm signing session. this immediately presented a horrifying dilemma, because gaiman was scheduled to speak at 1:00 pm at the other end of the mall. get the books signed or listen to him read from an unpublished manuscript? what was a thirtysomething comic book geek to do?

well, what any self-respecting thirtysomething comic book geek would do (and i know i wasn’t the only one) — get the buddy i went to the mall with to hold my place in line while i hiked down to the sci-fi/fantasy reading tent. thanks, james!

in the tent, i learned a few things:

1) if gaiman didn’t write, he’d be cliff claven. he said it, not me.

2) his ten year old daughter is mortified by the fact he drives a mini. and by most other things he does.

3) in britain, bathroom stalls are called “cubicles.” (do they call office cubicles “stalls”?)

4) someone makes a backpack in the shape of animal’s head. (someone also makes animal underwear, but i don’t know if anyone was wearing it at the festival.)

but enough of that. i had a good time. and i know most people haven’t bothered to read this, preferring to look at the photos. *thbbbbt*

oh, and the “nerful” thing in the title? it’s what gaiman’s signature looks like.