The Perils of Book Tours, guest post by Jodi Meadows

PART TWO

Strategically placed buy link.

By the time the shuttle driver took me away from the airport — at least, I thought I was away from the airport — I was pretty nervous. I’d had a lot of weird luck already, and it wasn’t even noon. And the building where he dropped me off looked a lot like the building where he’d picked me up. When I stepped inside, thank goodness, there were the machines to buy subway tickets.

I bought my ticket and hauled my overstuffed bag through the turnstile. Then . . . I wasn’t sure where to go. I’d been to Boston once before, but I hadn’t been left to navigate the subway by myself then. I tried not to panic.

Blue Line to Government Center: It was a sign on an elevator. Heaven’s light shone down. Angels sang. I stepped into the elevator, the doors closed, and I pushed a button.

The doors opened.

I waited for the doors to shut again, then pushed my button. Neither button was labeled with Blue Line to Government Center. But really, there were only two. How hard could it be?

The doors opened.

I fiddled around with the buttons some more before I pushed the other one, the elevator took me up, and I made it out of that horrible box. But the only way to go after that was a short hallway and down a flight of stairs.

I JUST GOT UPSTAIRS, THOUGH!

It turns out that the elevator was to get you up, and the stairs were to get you over a set of tracks without dying. But basically, either way you were going on the subway, you needed to be on the one floor. There were no signs telling me about this. But okay. Whatever. Eventually I made it onto the Blue Line to Government Center.

From there, I took another train to my agent’s apartment. She’d given me walking directions after that, so during the (really long) ride, I studied them.

When we finally reached my stop, I stood by the door and waited for it to open.

And waited.

Finally I realized it wasn’t going to open, so I ran to a door that was open and hurled myself outside just as the doors slid shut.

Whew. Made it. Time for walking.

My agent, bless her heart, is from the South. She’s lived in Boston for years and years, but she still gives directions like a Southerner. Fortunately, I also grew up in the South. So, walk toward the 7-11.

Done. Turn left on Blah Street. Hmm. There’s a right on Blah Street, but no left. But there’s the store she mentioned she lives near. I walked a little farther. I was getting tired. I hadn’t slept the night before, my planes were all delayed, I’d been asked to go to Argentina, and doors were conspiring against me.

I called Agent Lauren.

Me: You give directions like a Southerner.

Her: . . . Are you lost?

Me: There was no left at Blah Street.

Her: Right! I meant turn right!

So I turned around, but decided to cut through the grocery store parking lot as I told her about my trip.

Me: And then– Ahh! Ahh! I’m getting run over!

A car in the parking lot was backing up. Into me. It hit my bag. I walked faster. The car kept coming.

Agent Lauren: You’re . . . getting run over? Are you okay?

I started running from the car. They didn’t stop. My overstuffed carry-on bag basically saved my life.

Me: I’m alive.

Agent Lauren: That’s good.

Me: Your directions say you live in a brick building.

Her: Yep!

Me: All the buildings here are brick.

Finally, I made it to her apartment — alive — and made best friends forever with her mini dachshund, Elvis. We had some time to kill before the party, so we went out for lunch. Then I got a text from another writer friend who was visiting the area. She wanted to know if I wanted to grab coffee. I love coffee! So I went back out. . . . Of course I got lost on the way. I took a wrong turn and walked about a mile before I turned around and went in the right direction. Because I’m a genius.

I was really looking forward to the party, though! When it was time, Anne — one of Agent Lauren’s friends — picked us up. She had made a cake for the occasion. It had rainbow layers, which was all I knew about it. That was all I was permitted to know.

While parking, we jumped the curb. Whups. I apologized to Anne, saying the curb probably jumped out to get me — Boston had been doing that to me all day.

Then, finally, we made it to the bookstore. Hurrah! Brookline Booksmith is amazing. The people there are so nice and thoughtful. They had everything all set up. They had a billion books! They even had people there. Like, readers. It was great.

I talked, answered questions, and then we had an INCARNATE trivia contest to win a pair of my handknit mitts. One of the book bloggers who was there did a great post on the event. The highlight for me was, of course, seeing friends and readers. I hung out with Forum Mod Gryphyn, who I was lucky enough to meet my previous time in Boston, too. There were writer friends — some I’d met before, some not — and a couple of Lauren’s other clients. There were book bloggers I’d met online.

Forum Mod Gryphyn and me at Brookline Booksmith 

It was lovely. I completely forgot how Boston was trying to kill me.

Then I sat down to sign books and someone dropped off a piece of cake — which did indeed have rainbow layers — but I didn’t have a chance to eat it because I was signing books. Good problem to have, I know. But . . . cake. I never saw the actual cake. Someone showed me a picture later. It was really pretty!

When the event was over, Agent Lauren was grabbing a few friends to hang out at her place. She went back ahead of me, leaving Anne to take me when I was finished with the books.

Happy and tired, I followed Anne out to her car. As I started to climb in, a passerby said, “Hey, your tire is flat!”

I told Anne. She got out to look. “It’s really flat,” she said. Apparently when we jumped the curb earlier, the tire exploded. We sat in the car while she called another friend to get me, and then AAA. And I ate my cake (at last!). (It was delicious and worth the wait.)

Eventually, we both made it back to Agent Lauren’s. The rest of the day — all three hours of it — was incident-free.

Dear Boston: Thank you for not actually killing me on my big day. I love you.