ASK MJ: YOU HAVE GOOD REASON TO WORRY

Katie asks: Maureen, Any ideas on how to convince my mother that I, at 18 years old, can go camping in the world's most controlled environment (Disney World) without dying or injuring myself?

Camping? Are you out of your MIND??? Have you learned NOTHING from me?

Listen to a story.

Last night, I was out with Justine Larbalestier and Scott Westerfeld. I am often out with Justine and Scott, because we, for lack of a better term for it, work together. Last night, we went to see an excellent New York Liberty game, and then we all went for dinner at a fancy restaurant, because that is the way we roll. (Or, that is the way they roll, and I just like following people whenever I think there might be food in it for me, because otherwise, I might end up as I did today—slicing my finger open while cutting the head of Swiss chard I had for lunch, and then just forgetting to make dinner and eating crackers and a smoothie. I am still enjoying the smoothie as I type this with one finger wrapped up in a big band aid, so I keep hitting all the wrong keys.)

Anyway, we rocked up to the restaurant, all smiles and city manners, and took our seats next to some large, open French doors that lead to the outside patio, letting in the lovely night breeze. We ordered a five course tasting menu and proceeded to enjoy five (sadly tiny) courses. (Everyone got a different thing, and I swear to god, I kept getting the smallest ones, which was sad because I was so hungry I could have eaten my napkin.) Scott was telling us all about the conversation he had had with the producers of the still-hypothetical but nonetheless awesome in concept Uglies movie just that afternoon.

Anyway, I hope I am conveying the ambiance of class and style—writers sitting around, drinking wine and having very tiny plates of fancy food, talking about movie deals—when all of a sudden my brain started feeding me information. I was sitting directly across from Scott, and I noticed there was a huge black stripe on his white shirt that I was sure had not been there before, and that the stripe was moving, and then finally my brain concluded that it was not a stripe at all but a THREE INCH COCKROACH climbing down from his shoulder and down the front of his shirt.

Now, as it happens, I have quite a high voice. Maybe not my speaking voice, which is a medium girly-high. But my singing/screaming voice is quite high in pitch. I have a bit of a natural whistle register. This is why I can do such a good impression of a seagull and such a very bad version of this song. And when I scream when I, say, see a three inch cockroach climbing down someone’s shoulder, it is both VERY HIGH and VERY LOUD—enough to cause everyone at the table to leap out of their chairs and ALSO start screaming and to bring all activity in the restaurant to a temporary halt.

Scott, of course, has a deep man-scream and was mostly just screaming because we were all screaming at him and staring in HORROR, and mostly everyone was screaming because I was screaming, and he was looking around for whatever it was that was about to DEVOUR him (as he later explained, “I thought it had to be some kind of a rat, a dog, a rat-dog, something about to, you know, eat me in one bite”). Justine flicked bravely at the roach and it went away, and Scott was still looking for the source of the screaming when I saw it had merely flown around and on to HIS BACK, which made me scream AGAIN.

So, Katie, what I am saying is if this kind of thing can take place AT THE VERY HEIGHT OF CIVILIZATION, just IMAGINE what horrors await you at a campsite. Even at Disney World, which IS the world’s most controlled environment, camping is guaranteed death. The Disney corporation wants you to think they can control the environment through their ridiculously clean and manicured parks where music comes out of rocks and nothing ever rusts or even loses its shine, but they are lying to themselves and to you.

I mean, when the snake armies come and the ground goes soft and swallows your tent, do you think MICKEY MOUSE is going to come running out of the bushes to save you? Do you even WANT that to happen if that’s an option? Because I wouldn’t. Can you imagine it, Katie? There you are, insects swarming, rain pouring down on you, beating your pathetic excuse for a shelter into a new and sinister form . . . because that tent of yours will be about as useful as a paper boat when the Rains come, and come they will, Katie, because Florida is hurricane country . . . and then, as you sink into the fecund earth, crashing out of some freaky bushes manicured in the shape of giant mice comes a REAL, MASSIVE, HUMANOID MOUSE with ears the size of dinner plates, screaming in a keening voice that is neither male nor female but distinctly toonish, “I’ll save you!” And then, it will be reaching for you with those big, white, mitted hands, which are the last thing many children see before they descend into the Caves of Madness. Because nothing can hold back the forces of chaos, Katie. Nothing at all. Except, perhaps, the walls of a hotel.

Have a good trip!



The last thing many children ever see.


Starlysh asks: I'm a paranoid person. I think people talk about me. How do I become less crazy?

It’s difficult for me to say for sure, Starlysh, because I don’t know for a fact that people AREN’T talking about you. But there are ways to find out. Have you witnessed any of the following behaviors?

When you enter a room, do people stop talking?

Do they start talking?

Do they continue talking as if your entrance didn’t change the way they talked at all?

Do people look at you?

Do they sometimes not look at you?

Do people sometimes take phone calls around you and then go outside or a few feet away to talk?

Do you sometimes hear your name mentioned?

Do you sometimes notice that your name has NOT been mentioned?

If you have seen any or all of the above, then I think it is pretty safe to say that all your worries are valid. I don’t know what they’re planning, but whatever it is, you need to get out of there before they hatch that plan. They will probably strike when you are least expecting it, using some innocent ruse. For example, they may all gather together by a phone and call you, trying to lure you out. One person will be assigned the task of making the call, and they’ll say something like, “Hey, Katie, want to go on an awesome camping trip to Disneyworld?”



They may be gathering now.

Now, if you’re smart and you’ve read the above, you’ll know to turn that down. You’ll use some clever excuse, like, “Sorry. I’m taking place in a highly experimental treatment for my compulsive homicide disorder. I just can’t seem to fight the urge to chop everyone into TINY, TINY PIECES with a GIANT AX and I am running out of places to put the bodies. But thank you for asking!”

In some cases, they won’t be this obvious. They will never call and make their demands known. They’ll just lurk . . . talking, not talking, looking, not looking, saying your name, not saying your name. They are doing this to test you, to try to weaken you. Don’t give in. You have to throw them off guard.

For instance, you could make up 200 fake Facebook profiles, using stock photographs of people. Make all these people friend you AND each other. Create a group called “The Army of Sekrits.” Spend several days having your new, fake friends write on your wall, leaving messages like, “Last night was best one EVER. I can’t WAIT until the BIG EVENT!” Or, “Yeah, it got out and bit three people but that won’t be a problem for long, lol!” Or, “The injection stings but you know, it is SO MUCH BETTER than YOU KNOW WHAT! CHOMP, CHOMP, CHOMP! <3 YOU!”

When your “real” friends ask you who all these people are and why they keep leaving these creepy messages on your wall, just smile enigmatically. At this point, your phone will ring, because it goes without saying that you’ve gotten a second phone that you have programmed with your number, which you keep in your pocket at all times so you can just hit a button and dial yourself whenever anyone comes near you, and then go off and have mysterious conversations with yourself during which you laugh a lot and look over at your “friends” sadly, like you know about some terrible fate that is about to befall them and there is simply nothing you can do about it.

Or it could be nothing.

Cortney asks: As a very soon to be college graduate, what do you suggest I do to get myself ready to live in the big, scary, real world?

There is no way of avoiding the real world, Cortney. Sure, the collapse of the world economy might make it a hair tricky to do things like eat food that is not from a trash can and live in an apartment, instead of an old refrigerator box or in a van down by the river, but where is your spirit of adventure, anyway? We Americans are a plucky people. We made our country based on nothing! Nothing! Why, when the American Revolution started, we were a simple tree-dwelling people with nothing but a dream. Our forefathers hired someone to make a piece of paper, and on that single piece of paper, they wrote the Declaration of Independence. Then we fought off the evil British (sorry, British people) by throwing anything we had at them! Sticks, bricks, tea, cats, pineapples . . . we gave all we had. And look at us now!

So think of that and be INSPIRED! And then lie on your resume! Tell them you went to Harvard AND Yale AT THE SAME TIME where you majored in EVERYTHING! Tell them you’ll do anything! Wait for your competition to turn their back and then shove him/her into the nearest closet/stairwell/tar pit and GET THAT JOB! It’s what George Washington would do.


The competition needs to get out of your way!

I hope this has been helpful. I look forward to answering more of your questions.

CATCH SCARLETT FEVER!

When I wrote about the LONDON GATHERING yesterday, I said that my next blog would be an advice blog. But I didn’t know that when I woke up this morning, the advance uncorrected proofs of Scarlett Fever would be READY TO GO. It was a huge shock.

I have them here.

Scarlett Fever, as you may or may not know, is the sequel to Suite Scarlett. These Scarlett Fevers could not be ANY HOTTER OFF THE PRESSES. No one has these. Reviewers don’t have them. MY AGENT doesn’t even have hers yet. And I just finished going over the corrections and page proofs YESTERDAY.

I am offering COPY #1. A hot ticket indeed!

And what do you have to do to SCORE THIS AMAZING PRIZE?

Well, I am going to have a little contest. I need you to make some GUESSES about what happens in this book and e-mail them to me.

“What do you mean?” you may be asking, because you are always asking clever questions.

I mean, take what you know about Suite Scarlett, and TAKE A FEW STABS AT WHAT MIGHT HAPPEN NEXT. I will choose the MOST AWESOME GUESS.



Unlikely things may happen.

“Wait,” you are probably saying, because you are also very good at choosing moment when I should pause and clarify. “Define awesome. Do you mean crazy? Do you mean accurate? EXPLAIN YOURSELF.”

I mean awesome. Awesome may mean that you guess correctly. Awesome may also mean that you’ve just cooked up the most insane thing I’ve ever heard. Awesome may mean that you’ve written a scene you think should be in the book, and that scene turns out to be awesome. Or maybe, you will DRAW what happens. Or make a video. I do not know what YOU will do because YOU are full of wonders. All I can say is, you must make some kind of guess, and do it in whatever format you want, and make sure I get it by THURSDAY (the 11th) at 8PM, NYC time.

That's:

1AM in the UK
5PM in California and PARTS WEST
6PM in Denver, where my agent is
7PM in MIDDLE US
8PM in New York City, where I AM

I will then REVIEW the submissions and give the book to one of you.



How will I choose?

Copies of the book are currently rare, but I will give away some more as the summer goes on. But only one copy can be copy #1. Just imagine that. The very first one.



People will covet what you have.

“One more question,” you say, because you are nothing if not thorough. “Do I have to have read Suite Scarlett to enter?”

Well, technically no. But the book will mean more if you have, because it’s a sequel. And your guesses will probably make more sense, because you’ll know who the characters are. If you haven’t read it, you can do so NOW.



Why not read the book now?

The next blog, I promise, will be AN ADVICE BLOG. Now, GET TO IT!

THE LONDON GATHERING

HELLO FRIENDS! This post differs from the norm in that it is specifically about the London Gathering on June 27th. I will return, probably tomorrow, with MORE ADVICE. So you can leave QUESTIONS in the comments.

A year and a half ago, in January 2008 . . . practically a LIFETIME AGO . . . Charlieissocool (otherwise known as Charlie McDonnell, the most famous person on the intertube) and I convened a UK Nerdfighter gathering.

Now, we are doing it again. We are simply GATHERING on a summer’s day in London. To what end? BECAUSE WE CAN. And I’m doing it because 13 Little Blue Envelopes is FINALLY out in the UK. By a complete coincidence, the 27th turns out to be the day that the book will be available all over. Until the 26th, it’s only available at Waterstone’s. This is something I did not know when the date was first picked, so ISN’T LIFE FUNNY?

Here is how the day is going to go:

The first activity is optional! We are planning a trip on the LONDON EYE. You don’t have to go to this. You don’t have to go AT ALL. I’m just saying, if you don’t want to go on the London Eye with us, it doesn’t put you out for the day! If you do, you will need to purchase a ticket, and probably soon. Each pod on the London Eye holds 25 people. We will try our best to cling together as a group, but there is a chance we could be split. Still, you will be with OTHER PEOPLE FROM THE GROUP. But we will try.

So, first, you get a ticket for the 12 noon flight on June 27th. Then:

11:30 at the LATEST: Gather at the check-in area of the London Eye. Check in. Shuffle over in crab-like group formation to line. Attempt to talk them into putting us into one pod.

12:00-12:30: Go wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee! over London. Point at things.

If you do not want to come to the London Eye, THIS IS WHERE YOU COME IN. Because we will meet all who do not want to come to the London Eye NOW.

12:45: Meetup along the river side of the Southbank Centre. (Extremely precise location TBA, slightly dependent on weather. I hear it sometimes rains there.) We will then find a SUITABLE LOCATION for our group.

Now, the last time we did this, we started at the National Gallery and ended up going all over the city, climbing things, going to secret magic shops, playing video games, having lunch, going to the Apple Store . . .

We could do the same this time! But the one lesson learned is that we need to give people time to get to the location. So we PROMISE to stay in the area of the Southbank Centre at least until 2:30. We could stay there all day! But we will stay there AT LEAST until then. And after that, we will Twitter our locations, so you can always find us.

And perhaps we will have an adventure. Maybe we Charlie and I will take off and TWITTER YOU SOME CLUES and we can have a LONDON-WIDE SCAVENGER HUNT. (Like 13 Little Blue Envelopes, but WITH PEOPLE!) Or maybe we will sit on the grass or a coffee shop and chill THE WHOLE DAY.

We just don’t know. That’s the way the Gathering rolls. Anything could happen.

At 7, the Gathering will break once again! From there, some people will continue on to another optional activity! Namely, Julia Nunes’s show. You will also need to get your own ticket for that separately.

Here is the info:

The Luminaire
311 Kilburn High Road
London NW67JR
UK
+44 (0) 20 7372 7123
Price: 10.00 GBP
http://www.junumusic.com/londontshirt.php

So that’s the deal. Here are our disclaimers:

We think you should be at least 15 to come. This just seems sensible. We also assume that if you are under 18, you’ll have gotten whatever permissions you need from whatever life form you take orders from. We think you should come with a friend, if you can. No matter what, be safe. Tell people where you are going. Secure safe passage to and from your place of residence. The entire day will be spent in public places, with all kinds of people. We, of course, are cool, and we think everyone else will be too. But just be aware that this is a random group of people, however cool, in a city, and we don’t know everyone. You will probably make some friends that day, and people will watch out for each other. I’m just saying all of these things so that you are aware that YOUR SAFETY is our concern. Not that this is in any way a DANGEROUS OUTTING. We’re just saying, be smart, and tell people what’s going on. That is all. You get the point.

The last Gathering was awesome, and we expect this one to be MORE SO.

Other things you might ask:

“If I bring a book of yours, will you sign it?” With more pleasure than I can express.

“Will Charlie sign stuff?” That’s up to Charlie, but he is a nice guy. I am guessing yes.

“Do you have to be 18 to go to Julia’s show?” I don’t know, but I think the answer to that is yes. That’s sort of the “adult” part of the day, and I’m guessing people will be having drinks at the show. Just FYI.

“Will you love me more if I purchase a 13 Little Blue Envelopes before this event?” It is hardly possible for me to love you MORE, but every copy of 13lbe purchased in the UK adds to the potential that they will publish my OTHER books in the UK, and that will lead to my ENDURING HAPPINESS.

Because it will be interesting to know who’s coming, why not drop me an e-mail, letting me know? This is especially true if you are coming with us on the London Eye.

ASK MJ: COUGH SYRUP EDITION

Oh hello, friends. As many of you know, I have been recovering from the flu for several days, and my doctor has just prescribed me a massive bottle of codeine cough syrup to help alleviate this rib-shattering cough that I’ve been enjoying so much. He has also ordered me to rest for a few days, so here I am, at my desk, resting.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t answer some of your questions, now, does it?

Itokro says: I was at a largish UK bookshop today. They had half a shelf devoted to 13 Little Blue Envelopes.

This is NOT an advice question, but something I wanted to put in because I am SO EXCITED to finally be out in the UK. It has been my DREAM to have a book out there, and now, that dream has been realized. 13 Little Blue Envelopes will be available exclusively at Waterstone’s until June 26th (where it is part of an awesome 3 for 2 promotion, so it is practically FREE!), and after that, it will be available EVERYWHERE. (Well, everywhere with books. Not at Argos or Tie Rack.) And I'll be having a LONDON GATHERING, location TBA, on June 27th.

ON TO THE ADVICE! Off goes the cap! Glug, glug, glug! Medicine taken!



I am now ready to advise.

Neil asks: How to do I, a math nerd from Scotland, survive a summer in Canada?

Here’s a math problem for you, Neil. 78% of all the meat consumed by Americans comes from Canada. 56% of all UK tourists who go to Canada are never heard from again. Pieces of British passports are found in 17% of all burgers served in the United States. Mathematically speaking, how do you think you’re going to taste when you’re served up with French fries? Good luck with your trip!

McChrista asks: How can I figure out if the guy I like likes me back if we don't talk that often?

The first thing you have to do in a case like this is ascertain whether or not the guy in question actually speaks English. Because this could be your whole problem. The way to get to the bottom of this is by going up to your love interest, getting close into his face, and saying DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH? really slowly and loudly. If doesn't react, then your problem is essentially solved, and you should just start making out at once. Wherever you are.



Making out starts now!

If he says, “Yes” then things are a bit more tricky, because he’s probably wondering why you asked if he speaks English. He’ll feel like you don’t know him as well as you should. Start laughing IMMEDIATELY. LOUDLY. Like it was all a joke. He won’t get it, of course, because there is nothing to get. This will make you seem clever.



The laughing makes you seem smart.

Follow this up with something smooth, like, “What is your favorite flavor?” or “Do you follow the shipping news?” or “Would you like to see my calendar of adorable kittens dressed in people outfits?” Any of these questions should get you on an even conversational keel for a few moments. You should use this time to search his pockets for pictures of you. I realize that this can be hard to pull off, so this is why you knock him out with a lamp while he’s answering you. If he has a picture of you, feel free to make out with him the moment he looks even remotely conscious. If he doesn’t have a picture of you, plant one and run away quickly and hide. Approach only when he seems to be regaining consciousness. Say, “I can’t believe that man hit you over the head with that TIRE IRON! Let me NURSE you!” If he appears to remember that you hit him with a lamp, hit him again and keep repeating until he doesn’t remember and then get in there with the nursing line, which always works.

Or just send him an e-mail asking him out for coffee. Whichever.

Anonymous asks: I need advice on how to steal Snape back from the magical frogs named Elmond who are using him in their evil plot to mesh headphones with Twinkies and use it to infect the entire printer force with Frolic Disease.

Someone had better give me back my codeine syrup!

Sarah asks: How should I make money without doing anything?

Sarah, this question has haunted me for years. I like to think I’ve come pretty close, but this is an elusive prize. ABBA, of course, explores this question, because ABBA thinks of everything:



Shrieky asks: There is a girl (who we shall call GirlWhoMakesCoffee) who bugs me. She is in my German class and she comes early EVERY morning and makes COFFEE so my teacher doesn't have to. (Our teacher lets us have coffee and tea in class because she is made of win.) When we were in middle school, GirlWhoMakesCoffee learned the first names of all the teachers and would refer to them in conversation ONLY BY THEIR FIRST NAME. That is the kind of person she is. Not one single teacher sees through her, they all luuuuuuuurve her and think she's the best thing since Scantron cards, etc. Now, unfortunately, my German teacher thinks my friends and I like her, so we are stuck doing our final project with her. There is no way out of this situation. It wouldn't be so bad (well actually it would be), but she keeps looking up literal translations for things in the dictionary. THIS IS BAD. We cannot trust her to write anything because we would have to do it all over again. We're going to have to put up with this situation next year too. What should we do?

I’d switch to French.

Anonymous said: I secretly love a small Asian boy who is moving away next year. Any ideas?

How small? Because if he’s as small as you seem to be implying, you could just CATCH HIM IN A SHOEBOX and keep him forever, like a talking hamster!

I hope this helps! I’ll be answering MORE questions later, after I talk to these NICE BUTTERFLIES that have just come in. Please leave yours below.

Oh, and if you follow me on Twitter, here are the answers (in CODED INITIALS) to today’s BLIND GOSSIP ITEMS: C.C, K.N., S.W., L.B., H.B., J.L. C.C., J.L.B.

HOGWARTS REVEALED

I have seen Hogwarts.

No, I am not making this up. I HAVE SEEN HOGWARTS.

“Unpossible!” you exclaim. “You are telling tales, mj. Tales made of lies interwoven with untruths.”

Oh, except it IS possible. Listen to my story. It starts . . .

OVER A YEAR AGO

Many of you have asked me why I go to England so much. There are actually loads of answers, including, “I went for the food but stayed for the weather.” But ONE of the reasons is that I worked on the Harry Potter 6 video game. I was the scriptwriter for the PSP and DS versions. The story of how I ended up being the scriptwriter for the Harry Potter 6 videogame and the GLORIOUS THINGS I SAW is a story for another day—specifically, a day AFTER the release of the film and video game. Until then, I am legally bound to keep quiet.

But I can tell you that I saw Hogwarts—the full and awesome virtual version. And I thought then that that was the last time I would be so immersed in the world of Harry.

I was wrong. Flash to . . .

LAST THURSDAY (WELL, LIKE A WEEK AGO THURSDAY)

So there I was, sitting at table, writing with The Others*, when I noticed many people Twittering about Leakycon, the big Harry Potter convention in Boston. I had known about this for a while because my friends John and Hank Green were speaking there, but didn’t think I would be able to go. “I’m too busy,” I thought. “I have THINGS to do.” But as the day went on, more and more people asked me if I was going, so I wrote that I would go if my “Accio Leakycon pass and hotel room” spell worked.

A half an hour later, Melissa Anelli, author of “Harry, A History” and one of the main organizers of Leakycon, wrote to me with passes and hotel room.

I looked to Robin Wasserman (one of The Others) and said, “What do I do?” And she said, “Clearly, you go.”

I was scheduled to be out late that night, and the train I would need to take was early in the morning, which meant no sleep. But still . . . I had asked, and I had gotten the answer.

“Okay,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”

FRIDAY

I boarded an Acela express train from New York City to Boston—a zippy 3 hours and 40 minutes. It was so freakishly beautiful that I decided to walk to the convention center. I got there just in time to hear John Green speaking with Cheryl Klein, one of the U.S. editors of Harry Potter. During the presentation, I started to realize I hadn’t eaten that day at all. As soon as it was over, I had to get up and get food. But when it was over, I found myself surrounded by several people, including the band The Luna Lovegoods.

“Let’s go get food,” I said. So we all went down to Au Bon Pain, where I bought every snack I could get my hands on and ate so fast I got cheese spread on my forehead.



My escorts.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. There was a massive Nerdfighter gathering, and then we watched a screening of “We are Wizards.”

At some point, I began to the feel strongly that I needed to claim a house as my own. But this didn’t seem like something I could do by myself—I needed help. So, I turned to what has become my source of all information. I went to Twitter. “Twitter,” I said, “what house am I?” Twitter was pretty sure I was either Ravenclaw or Slytherin. I decided to go for Slytherin because I actually RAN INTO THE MALFOYS in the merchandise room.



HOLY CRAP IT’S THE MALFOYS

Once I had my house tie and my Harry Potter glasses, I felt a lot more relaxed and ready for the big Wrock show that night. I was told that this was in The Castle. And I was all like, “What castle?” Imagine my surprise when I turned the corner and actually saw A CASTLE behind our hotel. I have no idea why there is a castle in the middle of Boston, but there is. Part of it is taken up by a Smith and Wollensky’s steakhouse, but the rest of it can be rented out. It had been made up to look like the great hall at Hogwarts, with illuminated banners from the four houses, and a huge stage, and a big clock. I saw The Whomping Willows, Gred and Forge, and Tonks and the Aurors . . . and they were all AWESOME.

John, Hank, Katherine and I hung out at the show. I ended up meeting LOADS of people—people I’d been corresponding with for ages. It was like THE INTERNET CAME TO LIFE. I spent some time with Alex “Nerimon” Day and Kristina Horner. I met bloggers and vloggers and Twitterers and Facebookers.

I noticed many things in the crowd, like this girl, who has the Harry Potter call numbers TATTOOED ACROSS HER BACK in Harry Potter font. (The other tattoos are of the state of Texas and some Care Bears sitting on a rainbow, so you know SHE has some good stories to tell.)



Hardcore.

For some of the night, I realized I was standing next to Paul, aka Harry 7 from Harry and the Potters.



Harry and the Potters WROCK OUT.

“Hey,” he said, “do you guys want to be our dancers for the big final number?”

I didn’t have to be asked twice. When Harry and the Potters ask if you want to come on stage with them and do awesome backup dancing, you go.

There were five roles up for grabs in the backup dance: sexy Santa lady, 2 hip-hop wizards, and rubber chicken and rubber owl. Katherine and I passed on sexy Santa lady because the skirt was about two inches long. (This was eventually taken by Lauren from 5 Awesome Girls.) John and Hank took the hip hop wizards. Katherine and I took rubber chicken and rubber owl, which were large rubber masks that went over your head. Katherine was the owl. I was the chicken, which I didn’t really understand. Where is the magic chicken in Harry Potter? But I do not question Harry and the Potters. I am sure there is a magic chicken in there somewhere, perhaps in the epilogue.

Anyway, once Katherine and I had on the rubber chicken and owl heads, we realized we could not see AT ALL, because the things were so big they immediately spun around and blinded us completely. We might as well have had bags over our heads. So we each took a wizard escort. She went with Hank, and I went with John. In fact, I clung to John’s arm SO HARD that I think I bruised him.

So we heard someone scream, “Now! Now! You guys, now!” And I felt John move and I went with him. I made it up the ramp to the stage just fine, but immediately crashed into and fell over an amp. But I was so full of Harry spirit** that I felt no pain. I lurched forward and started jumping up and down while Harry and the Potters played “Smells like Harry Potter.” (I THINK this is what it was. It was a Nirvana cover, but at the end, everyone was screaming HARRY POTTER.)

Then I lost John, who was also pretty blind in his hip hop wizard glasses and bounced away in confusion. At some point, someone screamed, “Face the audience!” so I guess I was turned completely around and was rocking away to the back curtain. I attached myself to Hank, who had accidentally left Katherine to die by falling off the stage. (This was barely prevented.)



Katherine the Owl rocks out dangerously close to the stage edge, while I cling to a Brother Green.

When that was all over, we returned to the Leakysuite with something like 200 people. I remember falling asleep somewhere around 3am with a meeting going on right next to me on the bed.

SATURDAY

Saturday started three times. The first was at 4am, when we both woke to find a nice man from hotel security standing by the foot of the bed. He was there to tell Melissa that an attendee had just been taken to the hospital. She got up and went right to action, and I helpfully rolled over and went back to sleep. We woke up again right around 8 when the fire alarm went off and our floor was evacuated. This time, I had to get up as well. We dressed and picked up our laptops and stole glasses of ice water from a catering tray and made our leisurely way down to the sidewalk, where we were immediately told we could go back up again. I think I slept for a few minutes once we got back upstairs. Melissa, of course, was long gone, off running 25 events at once.

A little while later, I caught up with Hank in the Imperial Ballroom, and we sat around for a while, discussing the events of the day.

“Hey,” he said. “Harry and the Potters want to show me the best hot dog place in the world. Want to go?”

Having become a die-hard fan of Harry and the Potters the night before, I immediately agreed, even though I don’t eat hot dogs.

“I don’t eat hot dogs,” I said, “but I’d come to watch.”

So we all piled into the Harrymobile to drive around Boston in search of the world’s greatest hot dog, which was apparently in a very elusive cart in an industrial park. Well, first, Joe and Paul (Harry 4 and Harry 7) had to release the Harrymobile from the grips of the garage, which charged them billions and billions of dollars in Muggle money. After feeding a machine an endless succession of twenties, we headed out and almost IMMEDIATELY got lost. This is because Harry and the Potters usually travel by broom or flying car, and the streets keep them down. But we finally got back on track, and we got to the industrial park, only to find that the cart was not there.

There were sounds of despair from all around the Harrymobile. But Paul quickly changed plans and said that there was ALSO an awesome Vietnamese sandwich shop we should go to. So we did a few more laps around Boston and eventually took the Harrymobile back to the same exact spot we had started from and walked to the restaurant, which Paul described as having, “the dirtiest door you will ever see on a place where you would actually want to buy food.”

They took us to Boston Common and showed us their favorite sights, including a monument to anesthesia.

By this point, I was supposed to be on a train home to New York. But Hank said, “You can’t leave. You have to go to the ball.” And Paul said, “You have to stay. I’ll play Ghostbusters for you.”

So I missed my train and stayed on for the ball.

I sat around with Hank Green in his hotel room for a little while, telling the story of how the “in your pants” got started. We also noticed that one of the sessions at the conference was run by a psychologist who specialized in helping people overcome their obsessions with fictional characters, and in the last few years, she has focused her practice on people obsessed with Snape. We noticed this just too late, as I would have gone to that IN AN INSTANT.

We went to dinner with Chellie and Monica The Short Sisters, Paige, and Rachael. Then we met up with Joe DeGeorge of Harry and the Potters in the lobby and went over to the ball. Joe was so ready:



Joe DeGeorge was ready for the ball.

The ball, dear readers, was an epic, epic thing. I can barely describe it. There was so much dancing. Paul, Hank, Melissa, and I broke into the restricted area and got up into the clocktower and danced for the crowd. Melissa did some major dance numbers. Hank and I did a tortured romantic number to “Total Eclipse of the Heart” that ended with Paul pinning Hank down on the floor. Then we once again returned to the Leakysuite, this time with I think 500 people.

I took my place on the enormous bed and decided that I wanted to have a “lounge party,” which was just me being lazy and a party forming around me.

“I’m having a lounge party,” I said. “People should come in and lounge.”

For the first few minutes, it seemed like this idea might not take hold, but I am a persistent person. I invited everyone who even poked their head in to “come lounge.” And when I say “invited,” I mean, “ordered.” Pretty soon, the bed was completely full. I remembered seeing another rollaway bed in the main room, so I left my spot and went and got that bed and ADDED it to the big bed.



The lounge party.

Pretty soon, we had filled both beds, and all the space around the beds. We had about, I’d say, maybe 35 people on or around the beds. I got up to do something and LOST MY SPOT, and didn’t get it back until around 3 in the morning. At some point, I entered into a texting feud with Hank Green. A brave man named Colin stood up as my defender, and a wondrous battled ensued.



A wondrous battle.

Having given up on the bed, I took a rogue party into the main room of the suite to build a fort out of chairs and sheets we stole from other beds. This went pretty well for a while, but then the fort fell down, largely because we were holding it together with drumsticks and bits of a Rockband video game kit we found, and too many people tried to get in, and we got lazy. And then we locked Hank Green in a bathroom.

At some point after that, there was sleep. Once again, I think there were about ten people on the bed. When I woke up the next morning, I stumbled over the sleeping form of Voldemort by our door, and saw the ragged remains of our fort.



A sleeping He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named and the ruins of the fort.

Though I caught Leakyflu, the virulent illness that overcame many people who were in the room that night, it was still 100% worth it. I may have infected many people at BEA (Book Expo America, a major publishing event) this weekend, but that’s just my way of KEEPING LEAKYCON ALIVE!

To see more scandalous photos, please friend me on Facebook. They are all there.

And next time . . . ADVICE POST. So if you need ADVICE, leave your questions in the comments.



* An unspecified gang of writers who will remain unspecified
** Butterbeer