My apologies for not returning to finish my comments regarding Tactical Assault: Fantasy Cards. He-who-must-not-be-named and I went to my brother's house to watch the Super Bowl. Alas, neither Da Bears (my favorite team), the Chiefs (my favorite AFC team), nor the Broncos (our Denver team... with Tebow, my favorite player since the late, great Walter Payton... ah, Sweetness, we miss you) won this year. I can only say two things positive about the Giants' win... first, at least the Patriots did not win. Secondly, the Giants' victory has thrilled George Martin. Having Mr. Martin in a good mood is always a good thing. Now, I'm not saying he's usually in a bad mood, heck, I don't even know the guy. But mayhaps (mayhaps is a favorite word of the Freys of The Twins), the championship will give him extra inspiration for writing The Winds of Winter.
I've never formally met Mr. Martin, but he did sign two copies of A Dance with Dragons in July. The Tattered Cover, the largest indie book seller in Denver, announced that Mr. Martin would sign all copies of ADWD that they sold. Even though the main store opens at 6:30 am, they decided not to sell any books until 9 am when their suburban stores open. To avoid the rush, I arrived in LoDo (Lower Downtown) at 5 am. I was the first one there... After wandering the store, putting coins in the parking meter, and getting breakfast, I found myself fourth in line at 8 am. I chatted crackpot theories with the other nerds, err, I mean customers. I bought my two copies and hurried off to work. When Mr. Martin showed up a month later, I went back down to LoDo and found the building was under siege. A saleslady asked me for my ticket number and while I fumbled for them I asked her how many people were there... she told me there were over twelve hundred people there for autographs. I set my mind to the fact that I had to go to the end of the line when the saleslady exclaimed, "You have number seven! You're supposed to be at the front of the line.... Follow me!" I felt slightly self conscious as I was led to the actual signing room. The lady did not let me actually get to be number seven, she dropped me off at the door and said, "This is all the further I can take you." So I cut into the line and asked the guy in front of me what his number was.... "112" was the response. Have you ever cut in front of eleven hundred people? It felt great... except for the fact that my Nazarene upbringing kicked in and I felt guilty... but, not guilty enough to go back to the end of the line though.
So I watched the first hundred people approach Mr. Martin. I listened to all the conversations around me...
"Jon's not gonna die. I just know it."
"Loras is sooo sexy. You should dress up like him for Halloween."
"Baby, Loras is gay."
"Why don't you like him?"
"I didn't say I do not like him. I said he's gay."
"What do you mean?"
"Uh, honey... have you actually read the books?"
"Who would win a fight between Arya and Hit Girl?"
"Hit Girl, but only until Arya finishes her training."
"I feel sorry for Joffrey."
"What?!?! I feel sorry for you!"
"My favorite part was when Tyrion shot..."
"Wait! I'm still in A Game of Thrones... La, la, la... I'm not listening... la, la, la..."
And when I got closer to Mr. Martin, I could hear what people were asking him...
"Who's your favorite character?"
"Where can I buy Dornish Peppers?"
"What did you think of the HBO series?"
With over twelve hundred books to sign, poor Mr. Martin could not even take time to look up at his fans. Next time, I'll bring him some gloves to prevent blisters on his fingers.
"How did you dream up the Kingsguard?"
"Are there Unicorns in Valyria?"
"Are you writing more Dunk'nEgg tales?"
"Is Renly really dead?"
Then it was my turn.
"Mr. Martin, may I ask you a personal question?"
"Sure," he responded as he scrawled in my first book.
"Who's your favorite..."
Mr. Martin sighed, "Well, Tyrion is my ..."
"...football player?"
"What?!?!" As he finished his second autograph, his head whipped up and he studied me for a second. "Current players or all time?"
"All time."
As the store worker shoved a new stack in front of him, he said, "That's easy, Lawrence Taylor." The worker shot me an annoyed look because I was holding up the line.
"Thank you, sir." And as I walked away, George stared at me, and I knew that for a few seconds I'd delivered him from thinking all of his fans fit the stereotype.
I only fit the stereotypical nerd when I feel like it... the problem is that I feel like it more and more.
Holy smokes... I still did not comment on Fantasy Cards. Uh, maybe Azeal or He-who-must-not-be-named will do that.
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