I was just passing through on my way home from the gym.
I love that. I would have taken a field trip to see glimpses of humanity like that. Now I see it on my brief commute home.
I gazed up one of my favorite buildings while I walked the ten blocks to grab the express train. The Empire State Building. (I have a good story on that one of these days.
There's a local stop right outside my gym, but sometimes I really enjoy the walk. Tonight I really did.
I passed by a bookstore and popped in to see if they still carried my book. I like keep their copies signed.
I was disappointed. Nothing in the nonfiction section. Three copies of Helter Skelter decades later, but Columbine is apparently finished.
Just in case, I asked the manager.
"Oh yes!" he said. "We are selling one and two every day."
They had a small stack face up on the bestseller table, on the first row, out front. Oh. Nice.
I signed them. I pictured someone coming through tomorrow, maybe about to board a train to Boston or Baltimore, still hunting for a last Christmas present for someone hard to buy for and thinking, "Hey, an autographed copy! He'll love that."
I hope so. The manager said come back Monday and they would have a new stack.
Have a nice holiday everyone kind enough to read this blog. If you're traveling this week, I hope you arrive safely, and return satisfied.
I fly into O'Hare Friday, to visit my family in Elk Grove Village. (Stalkers, take note. Haha.) That will be nice. But I've lived in about fifteen cities on three continents so far, and before New York City, I never ever found a place that feels this much like home.