A Very Fizzy BEA

Hello my darlings!

I know I’m late with the BEA wrap-up posts, but I took a very much needed week off after I crawled home from my latest venture to NYC.

Now, people who are far better suited than I have done the official BEA round-ups and I will leave the technical aspects to them.

Instead, I will share with you my favorite moments from this magical trip.


I can’t even describe how much awesome was crammed into Javits this year. Much awesome. Everyone was an absolute delight. I went in thinking I would grab no more than five ARCs to lug home and left with like 20. It seemed like everyone I’ve ever known had a signing and I HAD TO GO.

Even still, I missed out on several which will haunt me always.

I had the amazing experience of everyone I knew from Twitter actually being more awesome in real life. I regret deeply not being able to hang around longer with so many of those lovely folks, but I’m glad we at least got to have a flail, a sweaty hug, and squeals of glee.

Speaking of glee squeals…

If you were inside the beast of a building that is Javits, you at times might have heard a noise reminiscent of a cat being stepped on but somehow being really damn excited about it. That sound was me. And I’d just come across someone awesome. (See topic 1.)

In case anyone I met doubted before, they are now quite certain, yes I do SQUEE in real life. Loudly.



I’m not a big drinker. Maybe twice a year I’ll have a drink at a conference or similar.

So, when I do go have one, that’s usually it. I’ll have one. Maybe two if it’s a long night out.

It’s been a good eight years since I have been actually intoxicated.

I went to meet a friend for drinks, and the bartender fella offered to create something fancy for me. I accepted. It was delicious. It was also fairly small, so I’d finished it off in about ten minutes.

I. Was. Smashed.

And I don’t mean tipsy. I mean, slow-blinking, slurry-speaking, improperly texting drunk.

Apparently that beverage was made for people who don’t drink once a year, and who were smart enough to eat more than watermelon for breakfast.


It was also a nice touch that my agent came to pick me up for dinner and found me cheering wildly as we made a boat and sailed it across the bar towards Garnish Island.

I’m a classy, professional chick, guys.


I tried to see as many folks as I could whilst in the city, and a friend took me to see their new apartment. During the visit, I’d asked to use their bathroom and became very confused by these two buttons on top of the tank. In a slight panic, I pushed them both, and ran just in case I’d set off some kind of nuclear launch.

After asking my pal, I was informed that button 1 is for onesies, and 2 was, well, you get the idea.

When I got home, I relayed this to my husband, and told him I’d stood there staring at the toilet a good two minutes wondering where the three seashells were…


I’ve been allergic to certain types of mint since I was a kid. Like, deathly allergic. (I know, that’s a weird one. I’m also deathly allergic to pineapple, because why not.)

After years of putting it off, I was given my very own EpiPen a few months ago after an accidental run-in with some pineapple. My allergies have chosen to grow more severe over the last few years.

Twice during this NYC trip I ran into a mint shitstorm. I’ve never had that much of a problem avoiding it, but I’m starting to think I’m more sensitive than I used to be.

Loooots of Benadryl was consumed during this trip. (Thank you again to my pal Ashley for being my Benadryl bodyguard!) The second one had me in dead terror I would actually have to use the EpiPen and that is a big goal to NOT.

Side note: My throat swelled so much and so close with the reactions, by the time I got home, I’d lost my voice. I spent the week squeaking out words and sounding like Lindsay Lohan.


I’d had a fancy dress picked out for a party I was attending but no matter what I did, the damn thing did nothing but make me look shorter than usual and kind of like a demonic baby doll.

My only other option was a TARDIS dress.

Yeah, that’s right. I was sashaying my ass out to industry shindigs dressed like a Time Lord’s BFF.

If you’re ever worried about people in NYC being scary, wear a freaking TARDIS. People will stop you on the street and flail with glee.

Someone even pulled over in NYC traffic, pulled up her badass pink and black motorcycle helmet, and was like, “That dress. That shit is cool.” and then sped off like it was a completely normal thing to do.

That may have been my favorite moment.


I was sharing a hotel/apartment thing with three lovely ladies, and we turned each night into a round of giggling, slumber-party-esque awesomeness.

My favorite night was convincing them to order pizza with me at 11PM (bless NYC and their delivery gods), and we sat, squealed, snarfed food, and watched Star Trek because WE ARE DELIGHTFUL.

We were all too damn tired for a pillow fight, but we gave the notion full consideration.


I have the WORST luck with NYC cabs. This is not an exagerration. The absolute worst luck.

Straight off the plane, I landed in the backseat of the angriest, most racist dude I have ever encountered in my life.

He hated everyone. For every reason.

Which would have been bad enough, but it was when he rolled down his window and started shouting ethnic slurs at every single group of people from said ethnicity we came across I was sure I was about to get shot or similar.

I finally abandoned cab somewhere not even close to my hotel just to get away from the dude.

The whole rest of the weekend, not matter what directions I gave, I ended up nowhere near I was meant to go. It was like I was giving them all a destination of Narnia and their GPS didn’t cover it.

Even when other people put me in the cabs and gave directions, I still couldn’t get dropped off in the right place.

It’s a gift, I tell you.


Keeping the curse of my cab-luck in your mind, one night after dinner, I’d decided to spilt a cab back with a friend, and somehow, we ended up blocks and blocks away from my hotel. The cab guy was like, “WE ARE HERE.” and just stopped driving no matter how we tried to argue I wasn’t staying directly in Times Square.

To save the fuss, I told my friend to carry on, and I’d walk or find another cab.

I was texting my now frantic friend who was sure I’d been dropped off, never to be seen again, and making my way towards my hotel when I walked in front of a club. There were three large dudes standing out on the sidewalk as I passed and one of them said, “Hey, give me your phone.”

I thought it best to ignore him and kept walking, but he said, “Hey, I said gimme your phone!”

I turned around with my most incredulous look, said, “Uh, NO.” and kept walking.

So, naturally, he came after me. BECAUSE OF COURSE I MEAN DAMN YOU GUYS.

I walked faster, he walked faster, all the while yelling, “I SAID GIMME YOUR PHONE!”

I was a block from my hotel, the sidewalks were now empty save for Creepy Phone Dude and myself, so I did the only thing I could think of.

I ran out into traffic.

A terrifying game of Midnight Frogger ensued, but I made it to the other side of the street to discover there was construction, and no rescuing sidewalk. I slapped myself against the wall, hoping to not get mowed down, and scurried the last block to the hotel.

This was also after my first mint attack, so by the time I got into the room, I could barely breathe, was sweating like a maniac, and gasping something along the lines of, “A GUY JUST CHASED ME DOES ANYONE HAVE BENADRYL OH HAI.”



On the plane into NYC, I was sitting next to a woman who was reading a book. I kept glancing over at the book, thinking the cover didn’t look like a normal cover. Finally, curiosity got the better of me and I became that annoying dick on a plane who strikes up conversations with strangers.

“Um, are you reading an ARC?”

Turns out, she was. And she was totally on her way to BEA as well. She was a book seller, and a writer, and as it soon came about, from my actual teeny little town in Indiana.

Seriously, she lives like three minutes from my house.

BEA, bringing the writing world together, one weird coincidence at a time.


So. I went to Javits on Saturday to brave the crowds of Book-Con. We were in the building a good five minutes before we watched a mass of people throw down on a poor Javits staffer for a panel being full. Like, swarming the woman, shouting, pointing in her face, etc.

That pretty much summed up Book-Con. My little group spent fifteen minutes being knocked around by people who were rushing around like it was ComicCon, but without common sense or manners, we bellowed a collective “FUCK THIS THOUGH.” and left.

I’ve been to NYC ComicCon. It’s chaos, for sure. But this was soooo far beyond chaos.

We did discover that the convention center had been sectioned off. Half was still BEA, half was Book-Con. The BEA side was glorious. The Book-Con side was the result of a clusterfuck and anarchy having a demon baby and setting it loose amongst 10,000 people.

I hear Book-Con is expanding to two days next year. I assume things will be either blissfully organized after this year’s experience, or it will be two days of madness in which I will be found, eating popcorn and muttering obscenities.

Basically, that’s my trip!

Lots of people to see, lots of food to eat, lots of squeals to be squealed!

It was a great time, and as much as I was THRILLED to get home, I miss everyone like crazy, and I’m already chomping to survive next year!

I hope you all are having the most wonderful of weeks, and I hope everyone who ventured to BEA made it home alive!

Until next time,

Peace, Love, and BEA



  1. That was the BEST WEEKEND EVAAARR *still flailing over all the fizzy fun we had*

  2. OMG I want your Tardis dress! I had fun at BEA too! And meeting you. But Sat was a cluster fuck. Pardon my french. I think it was chais. Glad you had fun!

    • You sooooo fall under the Awesome People category!

      I still can’t thank you enough for picking up LANDLINE for me! *SNUGS YOU FOREVER*

      And you are a DOLL. I am so sorry we weren’t able to spend more time together!

  3. Sounds like lots of fun, minus the racist cabbie and the scary phone man. So did BookCon have Cosplay too? People dressing up like thier favorite book caracters would be awesome!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.