R.I.P. Peter David

No, not me. A different one. And if you think some of my friends were startled to see my name at the top of an announcement that “Peter David” had died in a car crash, I gotta tell you it’s inCREDibly creepy to see your own name in that headline.

The Peter David who has left us was an editor and writer at “The Economist,” and I actually spoken to him one time. You see, Mr. David had written a book called “Triumph in the Desert” about Operation Desert Storm. And a number of people had come up to me at conventions asking me to sign it. Even though the bio wasn’t mine. Even though the photograph obviously wasn’t me. But people kept presenting it to me.

So I decided to try and get in touch with the guy to tell him about it. It wasn’t hard; I found the main number for “The Economist,” called, and asked for his office.

I was put through and a woman with a crisp British accent said, “Peter David’s office.”

I said, “May I speak to Peter David?”

“Who may I say is calling?”

“Peter David.”

Without the slightest hesitation, she said, “Hold on, please.”

Moments later a deep British voice said, “This is Peter David.”

I said, “Mr. David, you don’t know me, but my name is also Peter David, and I’m also a writer. And I thought it would amuse you to know that people keep asking me to autograph your book, ‘Triumph in the Desert.’”

And he replied, “Would you be the reason that people keep asking me to sign ‘Star Trek’ novels?”

We chatted for a few minutes and this guy was so nice to a total stranger. I wish I could actually have met the guy.

This sucks.

PAD