The Outlandish Companion - Diana Gabaldon [148]
The Ladies (and their consorts) are a worldwide (and rather extensive) group of fans who maintain a Web forum; that is, a site where members can exchange messages, bulletin-board-style. It’s a very lively site, with a good deal of book discussion, including a regular “Quote of the Day” feature, in which a short passage from one of the books is chosen for discussion.
I’ve met a few of the Ladies in person, and very nice they are, too. Now and then one of them pops up unexpectedly at a book signing, to present me with the Order of the Golden Thistle, a collection of thoughts and poetry assembled by the Lads and Ladies, or some other token of esteem.
Since we were acquainted collectively, if not individually, one of the Ladies whom I did know personally wrote to me in the fall of 1998, saying that she understood I would be doing a writers conference in Vancouver, and that since several of the LOL members hailed from that neck of the woods, would I consider meeting with them sometime during my stay?
I said I should charmed to do so, and arranged to meet with them in their hotel suite (they being in the same hotel as myself) after an evening book signing, to be held the day of my arrival in Vancouver.
First off, though, I spent about ten hours in the airport trying to get to Vancouver. My husband dropped me off in the morning, and I strolled up to the gate for a 10:45 flight, only to discover it had been delayed to 12:25. They handed out lunch vouchers and told everyone to go and eat. Came back, the plane had come in from Houston, they were busily vacuuming and restocking—then they announced the mechanics had found something they were “looking at” in the cockpit, mechanics’ advisory due at 1:40.1 went and had a Coke, came back to discover they’d canceled the flight, and were handing out boarding passes for the 6:00 P.M. flight to Vancouver.
Given that I was meant to be doing a book signing at a store in Surrey—an hour’s drive from Vancouver—at 7:00 P.M. … I called the store, and—to be sure I’d got the right one—asked, “Are you having the book signing for Diana Gabaldon tonight?”
“Yes,” the woman answered, “just a minute, I’m telling someone else about it.” She proceeded to put me on hold, and I could hear her telling somebody else all the details. Then she came back, brightly saying, “Yes! We’re having a signing tonight for Diana Gabaldon at seven P.M.!”
“Actually, I don’t think so,” I said, staring out at the defunct plane on the runway.
Now, the Ladies of Lallybroch had arranged to come to this signing, then back to the hotel for a convivial evening. I didn’t know most of their last names, so didn’t try to call the hotel; they’d hear from the bookstore that I was delayed.
Which I was. More, I mean. The flight left at 6:30, not 6:00—but it only got as far as the middle of the runway, where it sat until 7:30 before taking off.
Okay. I got there, at last. I met the kind person who always comes to get me—a good friend named Elva Stoelers. We got to the hotel at 11:30 or so, and she asked whether I needed a drink or something, after this ordeal. I replied that I did, indeed, but perhaps we ought to go up to the Ladies’ penthouse suite and see if any of them were still awake, if only to assure them that I had finally arrived.
So we did, they were (awake, I mean), and a fine time was being had by all, when suddenly there came a knock on the door. Well, we weren’t having such a fine time as to have attracted the attention of hotel security, I didn’t think, but it was quite late. The door opened, and in swaggered a long-haired young man attired in a … kilt.
Um …
Ever seen a Highland stripper?
Elva hadn’t, evidently. (Neither had I, if you get right down to it. I mean, I saw The Full Monty, but it’s sort of more immediate in person.) The hostess rapidly handed out dollar bills to the assembled ladies, and the gentleman … er … set about earning them.
At the conclusion of the performance, when he’d reassumed a few basic garments, I said to him, “And what do you really do for a living?“ He said he was a personal trainer,