Coast to Coast
Next up was one of the more challenging, Amazing Race-esque stretches of the Gutshot Straight book tour: from Oakland to Seattle for an event at the Seattle Mystery Bookshop, then right back to SEA-TAC for an overnight flight to Newark, followed by a day of drop-in signings at bookstores in Manhattan.
I left Oakland before dawn, in a slashing, driving rain. This did not bode well for the weather up in Seattle, but miraculously (for January in Seattle) the sun was shining and the sky a brilliant clear blue. I grabbed my Pricelined rental car (free upgrade approximately sixty percent of the time if you ask nicely) and headed downtown, where I had a fantastic time at the Seattle Mystery Bookshop. I already knew I’d like owner JB Dickey – in a newsletter review of Gutshot Straight he’d called me “the unholy spawn of Carl Hiaasen and Don Winslow” – but he was even more hilarious in person than I’d imagined. And the other bookseller on duty, Fran Fuller, was just as funny, albeit in a quieter, more evil (her term, not mine!) way.
It was at the Seattle Mystery Bookshop that I experienced one of my more memorable tour moments. A woman wandered in off the street and over to the desk where I was signing. I started telling her about my book, but it turned out she’d come in because she’d spotted a pigeon outside with an injured leg and was worried about it. After lengthy and involved negotiations with JB, she agreed to buy one of my books if JB agreed to call the city and have them rescue the pigeon with the injured leg. So it was win-win for everybody – me, JB, woman, pigeon! From then on my touring slogan has been: One book at a time, one bird at a time. (That’s the actual photo, at right, of JB on the phone to the city.)
I could have happily stayed a few more days in Seattle, just hanging out with JB and Fran, talking books, bacon, and brush-strokes (JB is a visual artist), but after a quick bowl of excellent clam chowder at Pike Place Market, I had to bounce back to the airport, drop off the rental car, coerce a couple of passing flight attendants to pose with my book, and then catch the Continental red-eye to Newark so I could make it to the pit stop ahead of the Male Beauty Queens and the Dyslexic Calf-Roping Sisters.
Next: New York City.
Next: New York City.
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