Author: Wil

It usually takes about 2 hours to get to San Diego, so Anne and I left at 10, leaving ample time to arrive for my 1:30 signing at Mysterious Galaxy.
We hit our first traffic jam in Norwalk, on the 5, where it took thirty minutes to go ten miles. No wreck, no construction, just congestion. Not a good sign.
We hit our second traffic jam — in the carpool lane, no less — in Santa Ana. I growled and snarled, and felt my shoulders tighten as we sat motionless while the cars on the regular freeway streamed past us at 80 miles per hour.
Ten minutes later, when we’d moved the quarter-mile past the merge that created the carpool jam, we stayed at normal freeway speeds right until about Irvine, where we stopped, and didn’t move more than a few miles in close to twenty minutes. If the traffic was this bad, this far north of our destination, I knew that there was no way we’d get there on time, and we were already too far down the 5 to try an alternate route.

“Argh! This is like the fucking 101 freeway at 5 PM on a Friday afternoon!” I said.
“We’re going to be fine,” Anne said. “We’ve still got a lot of time to make it there, and the traffic can’t stay this bad the entire way.”
Well, it turns out that the traffic could stay that bad the entire way. For the next three hours, we crept along at 30, or occasionally 45 miles per hour. It was the most infuriating drive of my life, made worse by the knowledge that I was not just going to be a little late, but I would be extremely late.
“Goddammit! This is such bullshit!” I said, as I hit the steering wheel for what seemed like the hundredth time. “I am so fucking unprofessional, and inconsiderate, and just –” I hit the dashboard this time “STUPID!”
Longtime readers of this blog are probably aware of how patient and understanding my wife is. When I freak out like this, she knows that it’s not about the traffic.
“We can’t make the freeway move any faster,” she said, calmly, “and all you’re doing is stressing yourself out worse and worse.”

As usual, she was right. As usual, I was too furious to listen.
“There are lots of people waiting at Mysterious Galaxy, right now, for me to show up, and I’m currently letting every single one of them down!” I shouted. “Hey! My blinker means that I want to get out of this lane, you stupid fuck!”
I looked at Anne. “Apparently, turn indicators now mean, ‘Please speed up so I can’t change lanes.'”
“Look,” she said, “I don’t want to listen to you freak out any more. So you need to stop now. We’ll get there when we get there.”
I fumed for a few minutes. It was one thing to be angry with myself for the poor planning that put me in this position, and it was one thing to be worried that I was screwing up a very important appearance . . . but it was another thing entirely to be upsetting my wife, who was just along for the ride.
We rode in silence for the next several minutes, as we crawled through San Juan Capistrano, and I calmed myself down.
“I’m really sorry,” I said. “The traffic isn’t your fault.”
“I know,” she said.
“I’m just upset that I was so wrong on the planning,” I said.
“I know.”
“We should have just taken the train,” I said.
“I know.”
“I’m never making this drive again,” I said.
“I know.”
The traffic remained heavily congested all the way down to San Clemente, where it suddenly and miraculously opened up until somewhere around Encinitas, where we slowed back to a crawl again. I called the bookstore a few times to give them updates, and tried to remain positive, even though I was pissed. Maryelizabeth, from Mysterious Galaxy, was very supportive and encouraging on the phone, and assured me that the crowd wasn’t as upset as I was, and told me to just get there as soon as I could . . . which ended up being an hour late.
When I got to the store, I felt embarrassed, and had a hard time holding my head up when I walked in, even though the crowd applauded. It was even worse that I had to go straight to the bathroom, at the back of the store, before I could do anything.
After seeing a man about a mule, I took the podium, and started my reading. I was genuinely surprised that so many people had waited so long to see me.
“I’m really happy that you all waited so long to see me,” I said, “I wouldn’t wait an hour for me, that’s for sure!” Then I promised that I wouldn’t suck, and I began to read.
There is a fantastic account of the event in a weblog called “brianstorms,” that actually captures the essence of the whole thing, and has some nifty pictures of me and The Shirt, and since I’m on a deadline for Dungeon right now, I encourage everyone to go read it (and you’ll probably end up bookmarking the blog just like I did. It’s incredibly well written and very interesting.)
When all was said and done, the event was a lot of fun, and I think I did a good job with my material. This was only the third stop on the Geek Tour, but I’m already enjoying performing the material even more than I enjoyed writing it. Each reading (which I actually approach as a performance) is different, as I discover nuances in the material that I didn’t even know were there, and I’m keeping notes in my reading copy, so if O’Reilly ever does a second printing, or a paperback version, I can make some changes to improve it.
Before I left, I signed a ton of stock, so if you’re hoping for a signed first edition of Just A Geek, or a signed first O’Reilly edition of Dancing Barefoot, you can get them from Mysterious Galaxy.
And if you’re able to actually get into the store, you can see the best thing of all: I’m on the shelf right next to Ray Bradbury, and that, my friends, is truly the Cat’s Pajamas.

Stop number three on Geek Tour 2K4 is coming up tomorrow, at Mysterious Galaxy in San Diego. I’ll be reading from and signing copies of Just A Geek and Dancing Barefoot starting at 1:30 PM.
Maryelizabeth from MG brought me to ComicCon when I was doing Dancing Barefoot with Monolith Press last year, and helped me understand a lot of the realities of the publishing world. Her support and encouragement is a huge part of this chapter in my life, and I’m really looking forward to the reading. I sort of feel like I’ve made it into AA ball, and I’m going back to the field where I finally learned to make my curve break. It’s going to be awesome!

When I got back from vacation, I had one day to catch my breath before I headed down to Borders in Hollywood for stop #2 on Geek Tour 2K4. I was nervous and hell, since I didn’t know if anyone would show up . . . but they filled every seat! I saw several familiar faces there, including some soapboxers, people I’d worked with on Star Trek and Teen Titans, and this guy who I grew up with in Sunland. We were the best of friends, and lost contact (like so many kids do) when he moved away right before my family moved away. Even though I hadn’t seen him in over 20 years, I thought about him all the time, and wondered what happened to him. See, we used to spend hours sitting on his porch, making up video games together. We’d both write them, he’d draw them, and we had grand dreams of developing for ColecoVision . . . I truly believed that he was going to do something great with himself someday.
I nearly fainted when he came up to me, and asked me if I remembered him. Of course, we’ve both aged over the years, and I was drawing a blank when this tall dude said, “Wil, don’t you remember me?” (Yeah, because nobody ever says that to me. 😉 But as soon as he said his name, I could see the 11 year old kid I remembered — his eyes haven’t changed a bit. So the coolest thing? He’s a writer now, and has just had his first book published by Tokyopop! The book is called “@Large,” and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen Manga and Hip-Hop culture fused together. I think it’s really cool. See, I got to read it, because we traded books. How cool is that? Talk about closing a circle that started in 1984!
The reading went well, despite my nerves. I’m still figuring out what material I should perform at these events, and I tried out something new this time. I ended up reading part of Chapter 1, and part of Chapter 9, and I felt like I never lost the audience. Julie and Peggy from Borders told me that it was a hugely successful event, and Borders is going to have me appear at some other stores as part of The Geek Tour. I feel like Borders is supporting me (they even have my book in the New Releases section, right in the front of the store!) and I can’t wait to do more events with them.
Finally, TrekWeb’s review of Just A Geek is up today, and it’s just . . . awesome. I’m truly at a loss for words to describe how happy I am about it.

“The secret source of Humor itself is not joy but sorrow.”
— Mark Twain

Earlier today, I took Ryan with me to the party store to buy some wrapping paper for my brother’s birthday present. At the checkout, there was one of those kiosks that plays selections from fifteen or so CDs of “party music.”
After about two minutes of hearing little kids sing “Party All The Time,” the theme to SpongeBob Squarepants, and the chorus of “Electric Slide” over and over again, I gave serious consideration to committing harakiri with the roll of wrapping paper I was holding.
When we stepped up to the cashier, I said, “Do they pay you extra for having to suffer through that music all day?”
She sighed and said, “No. They should, though.”
“I think it’s actually cruel and unusual,” I said, “and a violation of UN treaties.”
She looked back at me, blankly, and said, “Can I have your ZIP code, please?”
“No,” I said. (You see, it starts with the phone number at Radio Shack, then it’s the ZIP code everywhere else, and before you know it, we’re giving them DNA slides and submitting to retina scans. We’ve got to draw the line somewhere, people.)
“Whatever,” she said, and typed in the local ZIP code. We completed our transaction, and I walked out of the store.
Before the doors had even closed, Ryan said, “Wil, that was really lame.”
“What was?” I said.
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings . . . but I don’t think that girl knew what UN treaties were, and you sounded sort of stupid.”
“So should I have said ‘Geneva Conventions’?”
“Uhm. No.” He said.
“What about —”
He put his hand on my shoulder. “You just . . . shouldn’t have said anything.”
For the first time in my life, I felt completely lame and out of touch. I haven’t felt that uncomforatble in my own skin since . . . well, since I was Ryan’s age, and my dad embarrassed me in front of some girl.
We got to the car. As I unlocked the doors, I said, “I’m really sorry if I embarrassed you, Ryan. It was funny in my head.”
“It’s okay,” he said, gently. “It’s just that your sense of humor is like coffee . . . it’s an acquired taste.”
“So this is what it feels like on this side of the generation gap,” I thought.
As we drove home, I thought about all those times I was so mortified by my dad, when he was just being who he is, and I understood that Mark Twain quote about growing older and understanding who our fathers really are. I think I need to call my dad . . . I owe him an apology about ten years ago.

Felix has decided that His Place To Relax is now on my desk, right next to my mousepad. These two sentences have taken me almost three full minutes to write, because Felix keeps rubbing his face against my hand, standing on my keyboard (he just opened 17 terminal windows) and showing me that either a) he loves me or b) he wants me to get away from my desk so he can go back to sleep.
I’m inclined to think it’s b).
So we’re back from vacation. 2200 miles of road trip, one book signing, several tourist traps, and not a single comfortable bed later, we’re home.
The trip was mostly wonderful. We drove all the way to Portland, with some stops along the way to visit family and friends . . . and The Oregon Vortex — the original Tourist Trap. It was silly, but fun.
Also on the way to Portland, we stopped in Brownsville, which is the town where I filmed Stand By Me in 1985. It was AMAZING! Hardly anything has changed in this tiny town, and the local historical society even has a map of “Stand By Me Locations” that we were able to visit. We had lunch in this rockin’ pizza cafe, and the owner told us that hundreds of tourists come there from all over the world to see our old locations. He said that busloads of Japanese kids come over and want to see the treehouse (which is gone, but the tree is still there.) I took lots of pictures, which I’ll add to the gallery once I get some time.
The day after we got to Portland, I had my reading and signing at Powells Technical Annex. It was also amazing (I’m going to need a thesaurus pretty soon, since most of this trip was . . . well, amazing.) There were about 150 people there, and they seemed to enjoy the selections I read. See, here’s the thing: I have read stuff from Dancing Barefoot so much, I know where the laughs are, I know where the slow parts that pay off later are, and I know how audiences generally react to it . . . but until Powells, I had only read one small bit to an audience, and that was at the Star Trek convention, which has a very unique crowd. So I was terrified that I was going to suck, or I would go on too long, or not long enough . . . basically, The Voice of Self Doubt was in full-effect.
Luckily, it went very well, and I had a lot of fun while I was there. Amber from Powells told me that the next time I go up there, she’s going to put me in the main store, because I keep drawing such huge crowds! So an epic Thank You to everyone who came to Portland (I know some of you drove from Eugene or Seattle to be there) and supported me. It wouldn’t matter how good I did if there wasn’t an audience, and I am really grateful to everyone who showed up.
After Powells, I was officially On Vacation for the next week. We went to Mount St. Helens and The Columbia River Gorge, and I spent lots of time each night playing Hold’Em with Nolan. He’s turning into an incredible Hold’Em player, because he combines incredible memory (“I threw that hand away because the last time you raised like that you had kings”) with his great math skills (“I couldn’t call because the pot odds weren’t correct.”) Keep in mind that he’s 13 on Thursday, and hasn’t ever cracked open a poker book. Everything he knows he’s learned from playing with me, and watching poker on TV. I made two TERRIBLE plays when I was on WPT, and I know he’s going to be severely disappointed in me when he sees them.
From Portland, we drove down to Southern Oregon and spent the night with Anne’s grandparents. Some readers may recall that Anne’s Grandmother is in the early stages of Alzheimer’s, and I guess it’s good to report that she was the same as when we visited them back in October of last year. Actually, both of them seemed happy and in good health (considering that they’re 1000 years old, of course) and I’m looking forward to visiting them again in Spring.
We took Interstate 5 up to Portland, so on the way back we crossed 80 through the North Bay and San Francisco, down through San Jose (with a stop at the Winchester Mystery House), and across the 17 to Santa Cruz. Anne and I had both been to the Santa Cruz Boardwalk when we were younger, and we were really excited to take the kids there . . . but it was very different than I remember it. I don’t know if I’ve gotten too suburban, or too old, or whatever, but the whole place felt so skanky, I couldn’t wait to leave. It was like a traveling carnival had set up on Venice beach. Anne and I were really bummed out. In an effort to find the half of the glass that was full, we rode The Giant Dipper (it’s been there for 80 years!) . . . and the whole thing was worth it. We had so much fun on that ride, screaming and laughing in equal parts terror and delight, all the skanky carnies and pan handlers didn’t matter. We also walked down the boardwalk to this big arcade that my parents wouldn’t let me go into when I was last there 18 years ago, and it was just as awesome as I’d imagined it would be: shooting gallery, lazer tag, all sorts of games of chance, and I got to play Robotron and Q*Bert!
We ended our day with dinner at some spiffy Italian restaurant in Downtown, and got up early the next day to drive to Monterey, which has always been one of my favorite cities in the world.
The Montery Bay Aquarium is known to lots of people at “That Place Where Mr Spock Did The Vulcan Mind Meld With The Whale In Star Trek VIV (I know Roman numerals, I swears it, precious!)” It’s best known to me as “That Place Where I Spent Most Of An Afternoon Watching An Octopus Swim Around And Change Colors When I Was 14.” Now, it’s “That Place I Want To Go Back And Visit Right Away.”
I’ve always loved the ocean, and I’ve always loved marine mammals. In fact, when I was a little kid, I wanted to be a marine biologist when I grew up, so I could understand whales (especially Blue Whales) and somehow convince people to stop hunting them. So it’s like The Monterey Bay Aquarium was specially built just for me (okay, I know it wasn’t, but leave me with my dream, dammit!) Since I was last there, it’s been significantly expanded, and modernized . . . but it still feels like a small, private aquarium, run by volunteers who truly care about conservation and love the ocean as much as I do — probably because that’s exactly what it is.
We went to the Aquarium on the second-to-last day of our trip (I’d say “penultimate day,” but that probably sounds like I’m trying to impress you . . . did it work?) We were all tired, and starting to get on each other’s nerves a little bit, (which, I observed many times at many stops, is pretty common on long family vacations 😉 but the aquarium was so beautiful, and so soothing, we all relaxed and simply basked in the beauty and serenity of huge aquariums, filled with fish schooling and swimming. When we left, I vowed (as I always do) to one day have a salt water aquarium in my house so big it covers one full wall, and requires a full-time marine biologist to care for it. Take that, MTV Cribs!
Oh, and in one large exhibit, which featured fish you could expect to see in the deep water near the outer bay? I saw a turtle.
We drove home the next day, down highway 1. We did the 17-mile drive, then went all along California’s incredibly beautiful coastline through Big Sur and Morro Bay. At San Luis Obispo, we crossed onto the 101, and took it all the way home.
Overall, it was a great time. The kids are not quite at an age where they can appreciate just seeing cool stuff from the car, but they *did* appreciate the Jelly Belly factory tour, and Nolan *did* get excited about driving over the Golden Gate Bridge when it was covered in fog. To their credit, they didn’t do nearly as much “are we there yet?” as my brother and sister and I did when we were their ages, and when I really wanted to share something with them, like Brownsville, Oregon, they put down their books and turned off their music, and paid attention. If I had it all to do again, I’d shorten the trip by two days (one in each direction) and plan to spend less time on the road, and more time in the hotel swimming pool, so there was more of a balance . . . but that’s part of the on the job training that all parents go through, I guess.
I’m really happy to be back home. I missed my dogs a LOT, and I really missed sleeping in my own bed. I thought I wouldn’t miss my website, since I haven’t really taken a major vacation in years, but I did. I kept a hand-written journal while we were on the road, sort like a luddite blog, I guess. After years of putting most of my thoughts here for anyone to read, it was cool to have a place to record them without any intention of sharing them with anyone.
Anyway, I’m sure there’s stuff I’ve forgotten, but I’ve been here for a long time, and Felix is getting pissed.