I don’t do it any more, but there was a time that I would go sign books at any store that wanted to fly me out. I didn’t care where or who it was. This led to some funny, scary, odd, and ugly stories.

The one that always comes to mind first was when I went to a Southwest city and was brought to a book store run by a bunch of, I dunno, definitely college age kids, and of a type I knew well. Sort of punk rock, but not exactly, more like Sublime-the-band types… they rode bikes at night in big groups. This was the mid-00’s. It doesn’t matter so much except to say that I was not being taken care of by adults.

Before I got a chance to see where I was staying, I was brought out to a bar by a big group of these people, friends of the bookstore, other people in their scene. They all started drinking alarmingly fast and heavy. My personality is such that I want to get everything squared away sooner than later. I wanted to know where I was staying that night. I triple check I have my keys when I leave the house.

I had a beer or two, and by then my hosts were completely out of control. Scary out of control. I had gotten off the plane maybe 2 hours ago. What did I get myself into? We all eventually got 86’d from the bar, or more accurately a couple of my hosts did and we all left with them. Outside, on the sidewalk, my hosts turned around and started beating up the bouncer.

This was a strange city. I didn’t know where I was staying. If the cops arrested me, then what? Call my wife on the other side of the country, I guess. I barely knew these people. I didn’t rent a car. I didn’t think I needed one.

Thankfully I did not get arrested, and that was due to me getting the hell out of the vicinity as soon as I could. I waited at the book store until one of those drunks came by and told me where I was staying, which was the shittiest motel I have ever seen in my entire life. The room had no windows. What it did have was insects, all different kinds of them, and about a quarter inch of water over most of the floor.

I stripped the bed to the mattress, laid down on a towel, fully dressed, and slept, somehow.

The next day was the signing. My hosts were like, hey man, what’s up, like none of this happened. My eyes must have been as big as dinner plates, I was so shocked and unnerved. I signed some books, they drove me to the airport, and I flew home.

I took off my clothes before walking into my apartment. It’s possible we burned them.

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