Tales from the trips… after these stops below, Hotlanta, GA (otherwise known as Atlanta, for DragonCon)…

You know its wild and you’re moving way too fast when you can’t remember what day it is or what city you’ve been in, LOL! I got behind on my shout-outs because I hit Baltimore, then Vineland, NJ, and then Detroit while trying to finish book 10 of the VHL series (The Darkness) in between—wha… was I craaazaaaay? LOL!

But I MUST give props where props are due. Baltimore was fabulous! I bow to the good, good sister, Stephanie Wilkerson, and her entire crew there at Urban Knowledge Bookstore (a chain of seven fantastic stores in the MD area), as well as to the folks who came out and hung with me for that entire, gorgeous Saturday afternoon. They opened up the back room, a great space for book club meetings and author presentations, brought out the munchies, and we kicked back and laughed so danged hard till it didn’t make good sense! Y’all… I just wanted you to know that my spirit needed that in the worst way that particular day—THANK YOU!

Then, I doubled back, came home, and was on the grind in complete hiding while finishing the book. CONFESSION: You know, when I read some of it to edit it, I realized that each book is getting worse and that I’ve gone straight-crazy, LOL! Shaking my head. I e-mailed my book to my editor at 4:45 p.m. on 8/16/07 (before the close of business on the deadline date in NYC), and then immediately drove to Vineland, NJ on two wheels. There, again, readers kept mental fuel in my tank, regardless of the “gotta finish the book” challenge. (All right, I admit, I asked for an extension while biting my nails, and I was given 1 day grace, hence why I had to turn it in on 8/16, not 8/15—dang!) The hospitality there at the Vineland Public Library was beautiful, BIG HUG for the love, New Jersey!

On 48 hours of no sleep to get to “the end” on that book, I schlepped to the plane in Philly the next day, 8/17, and then sat on the tarmac for a thunderstorm delay. You know what? I didn’t even care, LOL. I was so beat and so glad that I’d met my deadline that, I dropped off to sleep, lightening strikes and all. I felt the plane in the air and heard people cheer that we were finally moving… all this was being processed within a very remote place in my mind. If they had hijacked that sucker, I wouldn’t have known—but if somebody had woken me up with that mess, trust me, I would have been ready to fight—I was that tired, oy!

So, I get to the airport, and bless Sheri Brooks, organizer of the MDLCollective Conference. (Metro Detroit Literary Collective.) She had her brother (a fantastically nice college student, Engineering major, with the patience of Job) pick me up. He and his friend—poor young gentlemen—then had to not only wait for my bags that never came, but also wait for another author who was in-route and delayed. Can I tell you these young men suffered with me through a five hour ordeal? If I say the American airline industry—US Airways in particular, has gone to hell in a hand basket, will anybody get mad at me? Every plane was late… okay, weather creates that issue… but half the flight’s freaking bags to be lost, too?

One can reach the point of fatigue, I finally learned, where you just don’t care. We left the bags that they kept promising were coming in on the next flight with the waylaid author. She never came in, her connector or whatever must have been cancelled—and the young guys didn’t want to drive an hour to Detroit downtown from the airport, only to turn right back around and drive back to get her, then come back again… so we waited. It just made sense, since the airline lied and told us the bags were on the next thing smoking.

Then, I get to the hotel and customer service, or the lack thereof, being what it is today (smile), the person at the front desk can’t find the reservations, and not only cannot find them, has AN ATTITUDE that I’m standing there bothering him. I laughed because if I didn’t, I was about to reach across the desk and choke the fool. Tired, evil, wet (yeah, it was raining and my umbrella was in the luggage!), hair standing on my head like a banshee… I knew I was at my personal limit. I’d been in airports since 11:00 a.m. EST, and it was almost 10 p.m. Detroit time at night. My shero, Sheri, came to the rescue before I had to go to jail. She called the hotel staffer on his line and blessed his soul, made him find whatever paperwork she’d put in months prior, and without further drama, I got my room.

Ahhh… but now would come the tricky part—I was keynoting an event in the morning with no clothes and no curling iron—hmmm… was destined to look like a hot mess. Time for “old school” methods. They had a box of tissues in the room. Excellent. MacGyver training kicked in. Take out a tissue, fold it lengthwise, and roll your hair the old fashioned way—on paper curlers. Next up—hygiene… call down and see if they have spare deodorant and toothpaste—check, check, good—I scored that and they were nice enough to bring it up. Next, re-run the clothes, but gotta go guerilla… use the tub as a washing machine, use the blow dryer on the wall the old fashioned way, and iron your stuff out crisp, girl… yeah. All right, I was ready to keynote—had lipstick in my pocketbook and could put on “my face.” Game plan was in full effect, all I had to do was wear a toga to bed, aka, the sheet off the other bed, and it was all good. I refused to let the airline madness steal my Zen… and it was not as bad as the poor man in tears because they lost his bag containing his fiancée’s wedding dress for the wedding that was to take place on that next day. Damn, the airlines are screwed up! (Did I mention the blasé attitude everyone had toward that poor man’s pain? But I digress.)

Anyway, I got myself together, got dressed and pulled my thing together the next morning. Oh, well, I’d have to do my speech wearing sneakers—but I figured if I kept people laughing, folks would understand…

However, about a half hour before I was due to leave the room, they informed me that my bag had finally arrived. I hope it worked out like that for that bride whose name I’ll never know (way before that poor child jumped out a window or something crazy—stress will make you do that.) Only thing was, the airline had ripped my luggage to smithereens. I couldn’t focus on that, had a gig to do and people had paid the conference fees to that organization… and my word is always my bond. Regardless, I was showing up on time and ready to rock.

As expected, I got there to the COBO Hall Conference Center (rode the People Mover—very cool thing to try if you ever visit Detroit), and things were fine. We had a ball! Again, my hat off to Sheri who labored under very stressful conditions—because ALL her authors were going through some major madness trying to get to her, as well as venues flaking on her… but she held her head up like a true pro and pulled her conference off with aplomb. THANK YOU, Detroit! I had a wonderful time in your city… and the most positive side benefit was that I got to spend a lot of one-on-one time with my home girl and Street Team member, Alicia. I thought we were gonna get put out of the banquet, cutting up and clowning. But after all that mayhem, you just become irreverent. Our bad.

Shout out to author Sylvia Hubbard, too—don’t forget you own me that research on that Catholic Church with West African symbols on it in downtown Detroit. Yeah, you’re gonna see that in the legend for sure! BIG SMILE! Alicia took me to a several block long African Festival, where I got my Caribbean jerk chicken, plantains, and greens on—plus some shopping I didn’t need to do. But who can resist the street vendor prices, BIGGER SMILE! Then I got my praise on at Second Ebenezer Baptist Church, whew! My soul needed that probably more than anything else… airlines had me about to loose my religion, LOL! Seriously, though, that church is awesome!

So, by the time I got back to Philly at almost 11 p.m. that Sunday night… I really didn’t have it in me to fight the airline because they said, since I threw the old bag out and didn’t fly with the ripped one to show them the damage (so, therefore, ergo, I’d voided my claim, sigh.) I just got in a cab, said, “Whateva,” and was glad to be on my way home.

When I got to my house, let out on the curb in pouring rain, and finally put the key in my door—my dog did the happy dance and put muddy paws on my already wet linen shirt and skirt. Two seconds after greeting me, my kid wanted to know what was for dinner, since she and her girlfriend (my paid house/dog sitters) had run through the money I’d left them for pizza while gone. Defrosting food and actually cooking it had never crossed the teenagers’ minds. Mail was stacked up, dishes were in the sink, the trash can was overflowing, rap music was blaring, the message light to voicemail was blinking, and I closed my eyes and smiled. Yeah… as much as I love the road, it was good to be home. My chaotic place in the universe was still standing.

Such is the glamorous travel life of an author on tour. The thing that makes it all worthwhile is the people I meet along the way. Putting faces with screen names, seeing old friends, or even just meeting someone for the very first time (some of those are the best.) Therefore, when I give you a BIG PHILLY HUG and say, “Thanks so much for coming out,” know that I mean it from the heart. You folks keep me going on days when I otherwise wouldn’t have felt like it—you really do! Bless you all so much for that!

BIG PHILLY HUG and Much, Much love, Leslie!

PS: Dyanne–forgive me for spelling your name wrong, lady! See what happens when one assumes–dang! I coulda looked on the book, DU-UH, Leslie! BIG HUG!

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