A series of mishaps

It had been a very busy day, a reading this afternoon, swung by Tundra (the publishing house) a zillion conversations.  A quick dash back home (B&B “Your home away from home” Rog likes to say)  A scramble to answer my emails, problems with the movie rights contract.  Stalemate.  Do we blow it off.  Move on.  Google map the location of the evening reading.  19 minutes away it says.  I’m anal about being on time so I give myself 45 minutes to be safe.  Dash back downstairs, lucked out and got a cab.  Hopped in, gave him the address…. and then…every traffic snafu there was on the streets of Toronto, we found and embedded ourselves in. 
“How much longer?“ I ask the cabbie, because 19 minutes have passed and we aren’t moving much.
“Oh, ten to twelve more minutes,“ he says. 

I call the library.  Let them know not to worry, that although I won’t be there with the twenty minutes to spare that I usually do for readings, I will definitely be there before 7. 
Cut to.  10 minutes to 7.  The cabbie is now sweating as profusely as me.  He is darting down side streets, back tracking in what seems to be the opposite directions.  “I’ve never seen it like this!“ he tells me. 
“Don’t worry,“ I say, but I’m worrying too.  I hate, hate, hate being late. 
“What’s the cross street?“ he asks.  I call the library again, they tell me.  They are calm, they aren’t worried, they are kind.  I apologize.  No problem. 
FINALLY we get to the library.  The cabbie (so sweet) turns around in his seat, eyes worried.  “I will take less money,“ he says.  “You pay me less money, okay?  Don’t pay me what the meter says.  It’s okay?“ 
“No way,“ I say, throwing a fistful of money over the back of the seat.  “It wasn’t your fault.  You did a valiant effort!“  Funny how life is, he feels bad I’m late, I feel bad that he feels bad.  He tries to make me give him less money, I insist of not only paying him what’s on the meter but including an enormous tip as well.  (He has three kids for crying out loud.)

I sprint in through the door, realizing as I run past a surprised library goer that I accidentally ran in through the out door. 
“I’m sorry!  I’m sorry!“ I say.  Apologizing to anyone with a face.  And then I notice the t.v. camera, and photographers with those huge camera lenses from my old days.  Oh crap!  Not only am I seven minutes late (You have to understand…This NEVER happens!)  But I have a t.v. crew and photographers there to memorialize this momentous occasion.  I can think of a few people in my life who would pay good money to get their hands on a copy of this footage.  Meg late?

So here I am, I was already tired.  Now I’m tired and agitated, because there are unexpected cameras in my face, and I have that hunted feeling that I used to get, that remove that people aiming cameras at you can make you feel. 

“The reading is taking place in there.“  Someone points, I run over to the door, the cameras doing that thing they do, running backwards and with you, big black boxes in your face.  I turn the corner, into the room… And the room is practically empty.  Okay, well it wasn’t empty.  There were rows and rows of orange plastic chairs lined up nicely and seriously, maybe 7 people, in their overcoats clutching their bags.  Other than that time in the blizzard, this small a crowd has never, ever happened.  “Nobodies here,“ I hear my voice say.  I’m really surprised, not only because there really is almost nobody there, but even more by the fact that I thought I just thought it… but I didn’t.  I said it out loud. 

And here’s the gift.  This lovely gentleman with white hair and a tanned weathered, angelic sort of face, turned in his chair and said with a half smile, “The important people are.“  And there was something about it.  What he said, the way he said it, that made so much sense, and I thought to myself, damn straight and I took off my coat and my scarf and stood at the podium with this tiny handful of people, and I thought I’m going to do the very best reading I possibly can.‘  And I did.  It was like magic happened, and we had so much fun, and we laughed and talked.  I was telling them about my ballet days, and guess I gestured a little too wildly, and the Styrofoam glass of sparkling mineral water, (Yes they actually had refreshments set out, fresh fruit, coffee, tea, mineral water with lemon ) went careening wildly in the air.  I squawked like a chicken, levitated around a foot, as the cup tumbled down and doused all of my books.  (Yes, me and Audrey Hepburn with our queenly elegance and dignity.)  And then to make matters worse (or better, depending on who you ask)  I was keeping a firm grip on that cup and the tablespoon of water left in it, but then I got excited about something else that someone had asked and I forgot I was holding the cup, so when I waved my arm in the air, that last bit of liquid went flying up in the air, nearly landing on my head!  Oh my, what a glamorous impression I made indeed. 

Anyway, I had a wonderful time!  I’m still excited by it.  Hence the blog at 11:37 at night.  I love when what would be considered an embarrassing disaster turns out to be one of the most fun evenings I’ve had in ages.  Much love to all you “important ones” who showed up.  We should make it a tradition.  Do it again next year!

Posted by Meg Tilly on Tuesday, October 23, 2007 in Chewing the Fat

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