Day CXLI: Saturday-L-A

The title is supposed to be a play on "ALA," the conference I've been attending this weekend, but, I dunno, dear reader, I am pretty tired and that just might be an awful, awful attempt at a clever phrase.

Do you get it at least? Satur-DAY-L-A? Like Saturd-ALA?

No, you're right. It's terrible.

Saturday is the first full day of the conference, which means everyone is out of their minds. Reference librarians maul presenters for free shelving samples. Public librarians make mad-dashes for anything they can get their quaint, scurrying hands on. Dudes in black cargo shorts and decorated in anchor tattoos wear shirts that say "Guybrarian" and haul sacks of catalogs and zines back to their shuttle buses. Elementary educators ask "who's signing line is this?" and turn to the next best thing before they can even get an answer.

And exhibitors? Exhibitors stand on their feet, chat away the day, and charm the pants off of anyone and everyone that cares to lend an ear.

Well, that's what we were doing at least.

Nancy and I manned the Scarletta booth all four days with as much charm and gusto as we could muster. And while today, Monday, was a little more difficult to do with a smile, it didn't stop us from giving out all our books, sans three lonely copies of The Shark Whisperer by the end the show.

Saturday was an awfully entertaining experience at the booth, though. Our author, Paul Czajak, was at the table for an hour signing away copies of his books Monster Needs a Costume and Monster Needs His Sleep. The amount of people we went through--nearly 200!--was reason enough for celebration. Add that to the amazing reception we had from everyone in line and the amount of people we were able to add to our database? To quote my least favorite America's Next Top Model Winner, Lisa D'Amato, "That's pretty damn cool, man!"

Oh, and this happened:

See that boys and girls? Josh Plattner in a pair of footed pajamas to match our very own Monster. And if you haven't worked as a representative for a book signing in a pair of fleece pajamas during the hottest summer Vegas has had, like, ever: you have not lived.

I am not kidding: the button I had pinned above and off to the right of my chest was actually perspiring. 

Do you know what that means?  I SWEAT THROUGH FLEECE PAJAMAS.

But I would do anything for my books because, dammit, I believe in them. And if I have to look a damn fool--and receive some lovely compliments about how well I could pull them off--then so be it.

Saturday was a fun day at the conference. Everyone was excited, dripping with enthusiasm, and ready to face the eight hours on the floor. But for all the things that happened during the first full day, I don't think you could top a costume change like ours at Scarletta.

And, c'mon, I looked pretty freaking adorable.