Been on the road over a week now, four cities down, five readings down, two more to go, and lots of little soaps and bottles of shampoo in my bag.
I forgot to bring a camera on this trip, so here are a few word portraits from the road thus far.
Here is one of Bellingham, a small town on a lake near the Canadian border.
As you can see, it's about sundown, a cotton candy glow on the big fir trees blanketing the mountains. Precious, no?
The guy in the street without the shirt on--that's me, late to the reading at the local Village Books (after pit stopping at a Pendleton outlet) and changing into my shirt and tie. Good crowd here--some real D.B. Cooper fans, even one guy who plays in an annual Cooper football game.
Here is me again at Third Place Books in Seattle, ground zero for Cooper aficionados and the Bureau agents hunting the missing hijacker down.
In the crowd--see the guy in the back in the polo shirt?--and the one next to him in the button-up?--those are actual Bureau agents who worked the Cooper case. And sitting in front are children of Charlie Farrell, the original case agent. In total, the store counted around 45 attendee including two varsity level Cooper sleuths who started pointing fingers in each others faces at the bar after and started swinging. Well, almost.
There are no pictures of this almost fight, nor are there (luckily) any photos of me stealing two very nice pens from Third Place that are excellent for signing dozens of books at a clip. I hadn't anticipated all the scribbling, and those pens have come in might handy (harhar) since.
Thanks Third Place!
Ah: Powell's, the legendary Indy store in Portland, and where the hijacking started: Gate 52, 2:53 pm., November 24th, 1971, PDX.
Here I am behind a stately wooden lectern. So far, best reading of the trip. All seats taken. Standing room only in the back. Store counted between 85-100 people, and the question and answer went an extra hour. Enthusiasm for the Cooper symposium in honor of the fortieth anniversary of the hijacking was so high that the next morning I went out and rented a space. (See more details about the upcoming Cooper symposium on my site.)
Now on to Frisco, and the quaint Books Inc., in Berkeley, last night. Crowd here was trickier to read. At first I was concerned when only four seats were taken. Then, once I started reading I looked up and we'd sold out, some twenty five attendees.
The festivities continued to the closest taco joint. Over beer and tamales and some wonderfully hot pickled jalapenos, I discussed the jump itself with a veteran parachutist and contemplated the merits of door knocking an old smoke jumper from the 60's now at an age old home, where he allegedly blogs about the case. Cooler heads prevailed, and I made it on my flight at the crack of dawn this morning.
And what's this? A lump. Under bed covers. Me again. Right now. In Los Angeles, hoping for a nap to save energy for the reading tomorrow night at Vromans, Pasadena, 7:00 pm.
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