strike that

deathly hallows and other friday night fun

Friendly and red-headed Celia’s customer Danny Concannon invited me to the Harry Potter party at Powell’s tonight. Back in the winter he asked me out to dinner and I accepted, but the night before this dinner Disaster and I had a talk about Really Giving Things A Shot – a talk followed by approximately no change in our relationship whatsoever, but I didn’t know that at the time – so I cancelled last minute and felt kind of shitty about it. It takes balls to ask a girl out, and a big part of the reason it takes balls is because of the unlikely but highly unpleasant chance that the girl might pull out the day before because of a different guy. I prefer not to be that girl.

Therefore last week when Danny said I’m going on Friday, clear your calendar, I’ll call you, I was psyched. I like Harry Potter and I’d like to know Danny Concannon.

Except he didn’t call.

So when Friday afternoon rolled around I was sitting alone in the Fresh Pot, sipping my Americano and looking out the big window at the kids lining up for the party at Powell’s on Hawthorne. These kids were so awesome I was doing more staring and smiling than sipping. They were geeky high school kids mostly, but so cool in their geekiness, wearing wigs and scarves and Harry Potter gear, being geeks together. From what I remember of high school, part of being a geek was being a misunderstood loner. Hanging out on a Friday night having fun with other misunderstood loners seemed by definition impossible.

I decided to stick around for the party. And right then Joshua called, and I explained my plans to go to the Harry Potter party because it’s the last one and it’s a cultural moment and other bullshit, except really I just like the books and I like celebrations and I like being up in the middle of the night. He said he was in. And he said as long as we were doing it we might as well do it right and go to the main Powell’s downtown.

Not long after that I decided that as long as we were doing it right we might as well do it Right, so I went home and dressed up. (Early Hermione, if that means anything to you.) (Everyone else: yes, I know how bad this sounds.)

It was a good party. It could have used some music but in its place were the conversations of thousands of Portlanders, all ages and many in costume, filling the streets and ignoring their bedtimes to anxiously await the midnight purchase of a book. Joshua and I stuck around the store entrance to watch the first buyers, who ran in past the camera crews and danced around with their hardbacks. Then we joined the rear of the line, nine blocks away.

My receipt reveals that at five past two I had my very own copy. Half an hour later we were eating breakfast at the Roxy. And now here I am at home, and it’s fast approaching five. Seven hundred fifty nine pages to go!

posted by tortaluga @ 4:41 AM