As you set off to enjoy the Tucson Festival of Books today, I know the No.1 question that is haunting you: “What should I wear?”
The TFOB website says you should wear comfortable shoes, sunscreen and a hat. This seems to me to be poor advice, because if you show up wearing only shoes and a hat, a little dab of strategically slathered sunscreen isn’t going to conceal the fact you lack pants. Festivalgoers lacking pants will be asked to leave by TFOB volunteers.
If you don’t want to drive, you can get there by bus, streetcar or rickshaw. The rickshaws, pulled by self-published authors desperate to hawk their books to trapped passengers, are not a bargain.
Here’s my advice on parking. Arrive early. In fact, it’s probably best if you arrive yesterday. Yesterday it wasn’t this crowded. Once you score a parking spot, file a claim under the Homestead Act of 1862, plant your bookmark and enjoy your short stroll to the Tucson Festival of Man My Feet Hurt.
You will walk a lot. To prepare yourself, you may want to read “Killing My Feet” by Bill O’Reilly and Brian Williams. It’s a harrowing account of their survival of the Bataan Death March.
Will there be books? No. However, Nathan Detroit, from “Guys and Dolls” will be taking off-track bets on Sunday’s horse race inside McKale. The Tucson Festival of Bookies regrets the typo.
Of course, there’ll be books. Or as your kids call them, “quaint artifacts from the pre-digital era.” And don’t bother to bring a dinky, empty book bag. They’re way too small for your hoarding habit, you wretched dust-jacket-inspecting, pulp-sniffing book addict. I’m bringing a wheat combine for my spring book harvest.
Experts estimate that more than 100,000 people will be waiting to use the same restroom in the Student Union. I recommend the restroom in the Modern Languages building. It’s a clean, well-lighted place, an ideal nook for catching up on a chapter of your favorite book or spelling your favorite mystery author’s name on the mirror backwards with lipstick.
Attend your favorite writer’s talk! As soon as the yammering is over, elbow your way to the signing area like a roller derby queen on fire, squeal like a bobby-soxer meeting a Beatle, and then ask the poor hermit to sign his or her bestseller. Authors appreciate specific instructions such as, “Write, ‘To my beloved Tabby, Mr. Pumpkin: This here be my name.’ An ‘X’ will suffice.”
It’s exciting to talk to a real live author! Because I’m the moderator for Dave Barry’s talk, I asked Dave if he had any talking points, he wanted me to emphasize during our interview.
“I have no demands, other than the usual virgin giraffe in the dressing room. Also a helicopter.”
Much to my surprise it was easy to locate a virgin giraffe. I went to our Reid Park Zoo and asked the nice lady selling admission tickets if I could borrow a virgin giraffe. “Wait right here,” she said. I shouted, “Make sure it’s a virgin. Authors can be fussy!”
After my release from police custody, I revised my approach and spoke directly to our mayor, noting this was a request from the world famous Pulitzer Prize-winning humorist and colonoscopy authority, Dave Barry. Mayor Rothschild said, “Well, why didn’t you say so? In that case, the answer is no.”
Not to worry! Craigslist to the rescue!
Finding a helicopter, however, was a problem. TPD said, “No.” Alan Kath said, “Yes,” in spite of the fact he had no helicopter, simply to lure me to into buying him lunch at Eegee’s. The commander at Davis-Monthan suggested I try a pawn shop on Craycroft. He was right! I didn’t know this, but UA students start to lose interest in their helicopters in the spring and, hankering for jetpacks, they pawn them. I got my Sikorsky S-67 Blackhawk for a steal.
On Thursday I learned a valuable lesson: Never load a virgin giraffe onto a helicopter while the rotors are spinning. Thanks to an excellent taxidermist, Mr. Barry should not notice anything unusual save for the surprised expression on the giraffe’s face.
We want our visiting authors to be happy, so if anyone has a live virgin giraffe please bring it to the Student Union Ballroom at 2:30 p.m., knock three times and ask for “Ramone.”
I hope what I’ve shared with you will add to your enjoyment of the fabulous Tucson Festival of Books or, as we natives like to call it, the Tucson Festival de los Book-ohs Fabuloso.
One more thing. On Sunday at 4 p.m., I’ll be hosting a literary game show at the Star pavilion. The bad news: This column will not be on the test. The good news: The winner will receive a giraffe and a nifty helicopter.
