SOME OF US ARE WATCHING/WINTER 2004                                                                                                         ISSUE 6
He began by reading a new piece about a visit with his sister, Tiffany.  Being a subject most people can relate to, Sedaris often revolves his work around members of his family.  By the third line my eyes were watering and I think most of the audience had the same problem.  I heard a line and missed a line, straining to hear over the tumultuous roar of laughter.  He continued on with “Six to Eight Black Men,” a story about Christmas legends around the world, and then a story about shoveling every piece of chocolate Halloween candy into his mouth when he was ten, simply to avoid giving it up to the neighbors who were begging on the wrong day.  The visual made me gag but at the same time I cannot help but wonder, would I have done the same thing?

After answering some questions from the audience he promised to sign autographs in the lobby.  I had thought this might happen and after obsessive compulsively going over my 3-piece Sedaris collection, searching for the perfect photo that would compliment his signature, I decided to bring along the cover to the audio of  "Holidays On Ice. "  It was my favorite cover, Santa standing proudly in front of a urinal against a yellow background.  Unfortunately, I had left this cover in the car.  This is the story of my life. 
Jim skipped out a few minutes early to retrieve it and take a place in line before Sedaris was even finished.

The plan was perfect; we would be out and home by 10 o’clock.  I stepped into the lobby and Jim was nowhere to be found.  People had already started to accumulate around an empty table where Sedaris was to sit.  After about 20 minutes, the crowd formed into a long 2-hour line and I found Jim at the end of it.  It was dark outside, he explained, and unfamiliar with the area he walked 3 blocks passed the Mershon when he realized he had gone way too far.  We stood there quietly, watching the clock.

Once the line gets long, we break it into 
4 different lines because anyone in their 
right mind would leave if they knew it 
was going to take over 2 hours to see 
Santa.  2 hours.
You could see a movie in 2 hours.
~The SantaLand Diaries
I am not an autograph slut.  I really don’t care about a signature.  But I wanted to see proof of something that I had never seen before.  I had heard the voice, saw the few publicity pictures, but was there really a David Sedaris?  He isn’t like the guy you see every week on TV and in tabloids.  He isn’t someone you can buy a biography about because his writings, in essence, are a loose biography altered for our listening pleasure.  I would only do this for a handful of people in the world, David Bowie, Boy George, The Monkees, and this one being in my opinion, the greatest writer of all time.  I mean he’s radio, who ever sees that?

I am always very picky about what I wear in fear that it will make me look fat.  So, I chose my clothing carefully that day, knowing I would still feel most fat and hideous as my feet and back began to hurt from standing in line as we approached the second hour.  I stood there, imagining my hips swelling, and thought about what I would say if I actually got to talk to David Sedaris. 

“Oh, David,” I would declare like his best pal, “your writing is so great.  It makes me laugh until my eyes water.  You are so smart and funny; I feel exactly the same as you do.  My family is the same way.”  And then I would laugh, like one of those women with big hair and too much makeup, slapping him lightly on the arm and throwing my head back in a swoop.  Of course, this would be creepy and it would scare him. 

I thought of a more me approach.  I don’t really talk much to people I’ve never met before and this would be my only chance to say something very important and memorable.  “Mr. Sedaris,” I would say, very serious and intellectual, “you have been a true inspiration to me.  I hope some day that I can write as intelligently funny and honest as you do.  You have captured the true essence of the American life.”  But doesn’t everyone say that?

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