Mr Barker goes to Washington Pt 2

“Hi, Jim!!!”

I looked down. And down. Which was how I first met Judi.

“Hello, Jim”.

I looked up. And up. Which was how I first met Carleen.

Also seated on the couch (and I apologise if I miss anyone out... you’ll gather I wasn’t quite taking everything in...) were Ellen, Eileeeeeen, M’Lou, Mark, Sarah, Jon’n’Ruth, Woodstock and Jeff, Judi’s husband. Mark Alan Miller was also there as was Beth. Over in a corner new superstar author Karin Slaughter waved and said “Hi, Cartoon Boy”. There were squeals and hugs and introductions and I apologised for the voice and we all sat and talked for a while (they talked, I listened). Though I’d seen the RAM photocall on B’n’B, it was interesting putting faces to the names. Eileeeeeen facially looked very like an old friend of mine from
my newspaper days and reminded me of Elaine Stritch. Carleen was Patsy from AbFab. Judi was Barbara Windsor. Jon was Elliott Gould from the film version of MASH. Jeff was a dead ringer for the actor Jeffrey Jones (from Beetlejuice among others) Me... I was one of the zombies from The Living Dead. Since all they’d seen of me was my B’n”B cartoon, I was told they had expected someone older. And bigger. That dieting really works...

Around nine someone suggested going to eat. Jon’n’Ruth, who had been around for several days led us to Restaurant Row, a street a couple of blocks from the hotel which consisted of nothing but eating places. This involved crossing a couple of streets and panic set in while I tried to cope with which way the traffic was coming and which way I should be looking. I relied on closing my eyes tightly and running like hell.

We settled on the Stars and Stripes, a good ol’ Amurrican diner which served good ol’ Amurrican food. I had deliberately lost more weight than I needed so that i could relax the diet and enjoy myself and so ordered a Bacon Burger with Fries. Good ol’ Amurrican carbohydrates! While waiting for the food to arrive, I discovered that i was a pariah in that
i was about the only one of the fourteen there who DIDN’T smoke. (In fact, over the weekend it was quite remarkable how many RAMmers smoked - and they called my diet unhealthy...) Everyone pissed off to the bar for a cigarette, leaving Jeff (who wanted a cigarette really) to entertain me.

The food arrived. We ate. We drank. We chatted. We tried on Jon’s cowboy hat. And then we made our way back to the hotel. and I still wasn’t run over. Back at the Hyatt, at 10.30 and 27 waking hours, I decided to call it a night. Everyone else headed for the bar, which was beginning to fill up and I headed for the room. There I discovered that John Galt had arrived. I croaked a greeting, assured him that I’d be in better shape in the morning, crawled in to bed and crashed out.

I awoke at seven and lay for a while trying not to wake John. It turned out that John had also awoken early and was lying awake trying not to disturb me... In what was to become a morning routine, we washed, dressed and headed down to breakfast. I’d upgraded us which meant we could have the breakfast buffet - scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages - much like a UK convention breakfast. John tried his best to get me to try Grits, which were also part of the menu but I have an aversion to eating anything which looks like frog spawn.

After breakfast, I went down to the hotel lobby and people watched as the convention started coming together. People were arriving, greeting friends, congregating in groups. It was very like the start of SF conventions, but without Klingons. Jon and Jeff arrived and my voice had returned to a degree so we chatted for a while till I noticed that the guy standing in a group near me was Stephen Booth and cornered him before he realised who I was and ran away. As we were talking a large rucksack tottered past, turned and headed back towards us.

“Excuse me...” it said. “Where’s the registration?”

‘We replied “It’s downstairs, Mitchy.”

For it was she. Another RAMMer arrived! (Mitchy was Dawn French, by the way...) More squeals, more hugs, more greetings and Mitchy went off to register. We hadn’t the heart to tell her about the fifteen pounds of books she would have to carry as well as her rucksack.

I’d spotted a pharmacy when we went out to eat and went out in search of a throat spray, taking my life in my hands as I coped with the traffic again. On the way back, I went exploring in a small shopping mall in a building near the Hyatt, returning just in time to attend the opening ceremony. Here, I really started to feel at home being familiar with several dozen such ceremonies from SF cons. The four guests of honour, Edward D. Hoch, Peter Lovesy, Sue Grafton and Michael Connolly were interviewed by .... someone... anecdotes were told, insults were traded and the Bouchercon was officially opened.

More importantly, the bookroom was officially opened.

I’m not a great panel attendee. I only went to three panels the whole of Bouchercon. At conventions, you will either find me in the bar or in the bookroom. SF con bookrooms have lost their appeal since I stopped reading SF but this was a whole room devoted to mystery books! It was “kid in a sweetshop” time. Tables full of books. Boxs full of books, Wire stands full of books!!! Wide eyed, I waded in. In the middle of the room, I discovered the dealer selling the cheap second hand paperbacks and loaded up, filling gaps in my collection of S.J. Rozan, Edna Buchanan, William Marshall and Don Winslow. Because they were so cheap, I was able to try new authors like Wendi Lee and Charlaine Harris. I dumped the first of several loads back up in the room before attending my second panel, accompanied by Ellen and Judi. This was called “Kiss me Kate” and was supposed to be about the proliferation of ‘Kates” in mystery fiction. It was immediately subverted by Val McDermid and company and was probably entertaining. Unfortunately lousy acoustics made it impossible to hear and we left early.

I had another trawl round the bookroom then went up to the lobbibar and talked to several assorted RAMmers till it was time to eat again. This time thirteen or so of us invaded a small Thai restaurant, pushed several tables together and waited to be served.

And waited.

And waited.

Jeff, who had played hookey on a golf course and hadn’t eaten all day bailed out for a sports bar up the street. The rest of us bided our time. I took out a loose leaf menu from the sheaf in a folder and drew a quick cartoon on the back: A skeleton sitting at a table with a waitress
saying to it “ Been waiting long?’ Then I put the menu back in the folder. I’d have loved to have been there when the next customers opened the menus. Back to the hotel. More booze, more chat. I was introduced to Ian Rankin who admired my T shirt (“Not only am I perfect - I’m from Scotland) and the shortbread I was handing round. At midnight, all funned out, I went to bed.

At breakfast next morning, John and I sat with M’Lou. She was sharing with Carleen who had had A Late Night and was still sleeping. I’d enjoyed M’Lou’s posts on RAM and she’s even more delightful in person. An eight o clock convention breakfast was a concept was having trouble
accepting (at Sf cons, we usually leave it till just before they stop serving and descend en masse) but I struggled manfully on and managed to avoid eating grits again.

At eleven, RAM assembled to attend the TART NOIR panel and heckle KS. It was a very enjoyable panel, even if we learned more about dolphin penises than we wanted to know. M’lou demonstrated an ability to do Flipper impersonations, which had me rolling on the floor. M’lou and I went to the signing session afterwards to give Karin moral support and ensure that she had SOME people in the queue, even it was only a couple of RAMMERS giggling like twelve year olds... Happily she already had a line of people and deservedly so. That was the only signature I queued for, though I know that John had tracked several cases of first editions to get signed and was looking happier and happier.

Carleen eventually surfaced and joined a bunch of us in search of lunch, ending up at a deli in the mall I'd visited the day before. I couldn’t finish my sandwich, left it on the plate and covered it with my napkin. Eileeeeeen took me to task for this and whisked the napkin away on the grounds that the deli owners would think I hadn’t enjoyed the sandwich and was trying to hide it. I retaliated by trying to make a rude sculpture from the sandwich remains and failed miserably.

The afternoon was spent again wandering around the bookroom, more leisurely this time and I found an autographed copy of “Gun in CheeK” which I’d been looking for as well as a copy of “The Tragedy of Errors” the last book by Ellery Queen, who were responsible for getting me into mysteries. At six I joined what seemed like several hundred people at the RAM party in the lobbibar. I even managed to drag the shy and retiring John Galt down to bar to join us. Several other RAMmers came out of the woodwork including Bill Burgess and Keith Snyder. You’ll have seen the photographs and read other reports of this meeting so I won’t repeat them other than to say that It was nice to see so many RAM T shirts and bags. Thank you to everyone who contributed to the $70 spending cash. Oh, and while Anne contributed the mountain of Tim Tams, the barley sugars, soor plooms, shortbread and Edinburgh Rock was
mine...

Ellen dragged a bunch of us, including Mark, Brigid, Pat and Soren, off to eat at a Mexican restaurant called Chili's. We took the hotel shuttle which spent ten minutes driving round the block before depositing us at a restaurant two minutes walk way from the Hyatt. The food was great and I tried the “cartoon on napkin” trick again. I do this in the hopes that the restaurant will be so pleased with the result that they offer me complimentary meals. it hasn’t happened yet but I have high hopes...

The rest of the evening was spent in drunken conversation and hilarity. At one point someone passed around a mobile phone so that we could all speak to Katy Munger who couldn’t be there (A real big disappointment for me) and it was passed to me and we chatted for a while. The phone was then passed on and found its way to me again. I put on an English accent and said ‘“ello, Katy... This is John Baker” and I think she believed me...

At one o’clock they closed the bar, an unknown event CTASFC where the bar stays open a long as there are people in the bar. A few of us retreated to Jon”n”Ruths room where I stayed till 2.30 when I couldn’t take the cigarette smoke any longer and went to bed.

Saturday. Breakfast. Bookroom. Bar See a routine developing?.

At breakfast John mentioned that he had met a Scottish writer, Joyce Holms, the previous day. I was familiar with her work, a series of books featuring an Edinburgh lawyer and a streetwise law student and filled him I on the books. Naturally, half an hour later I stepped into a lift an met the lady herself. It was wonderful to hear another Scottish accent (besides Ian Rankin) and we spent a happy hour talking in the hotel lobby. I couldn’t quite get over the fact that, there in the heart of the American capital, two Scots were talking like sweetie wifes about “Taggart”. Joyce’s books aren’t published in America. They’re light without being cosies and I recommend them.

Todays T shirt was cream coloured with Oscar Wilde’s “ I have nothing to declare except my genius” on the front. Which attracted a lot of attention. A lot of RAMmers went into the city to sightsee. I had allowed another couple of days to do this after the convention. In the afternoon Judi, Jeff, Mitchy, Brigid, Mark and I spent fifteen minutes climbing a hill to spend five minutes watching various authors maim each other in the guise of basketball. Suitably impressed, we spent fifteen minutes climbing back down to the hotel. By now I was getting blase about crossing the road. I’d crossed or several times and survived though I
fully expected to flattened - like Scottish Coyote under a sixteen wheel Roadrunner. Meep meep!

In the evening I went out to eat with Brigid, Woodstock and Pam and ended up back at Stars and Stripes where, in a fit of homesickness I ordered fish and chips. Back at the Hyatt i changed into a black t shirt and my waistcoat covered in Snoopy cartoons. You can see why they call me “cartoon boy”... Down in the lobbibar I joined the RAMmers who had annexed a corner sofa and produced the last of the shortbread and the heather cream liqueur. Down in the main hall the formal banquet was on and we whiled the time away till the results of the Anthony’s were announced by playing charades, talking and getting shitfaced. Several incriminating photographs were taken and a spot of petty larceny occurred. Me, i didn’t see nuttin’ ,, but Brigid and Mitchy are a lot less innocent than they appear... At one point I was rolling on the floor laughing when I was sternly told by KS to get up and not get the Snoopy waistcoat dirty. Turn out she is the world’s biggest Snoopy fan and had been coveting the waistcoat all night. John’n’Ruth emerged from the awards dinner to report that Val McDermid’s “PLACE OF EXECUTION” had won the Anthony, a source of personal delight for me since I had been promoting the book as a gem since it was published. A well deserved
award. (Congrats to Stephen Booth as well, for his award). That evening I was also introduced to Lee Child, someone whose books I only discovered earlier this year and another nice guy. I went to another room party about half past midnight, emerged about half past one and headed back down to the bar in search of Fun. Again, they had closed the bar at one and the place was deserted... Miffed, I went to bed.

I can’t remember the last time I saw eight in the morning on a convention Sunday, yet here I was breakfasting and still avoiding the grits. Because I live a good five or six hours away from most UK convention venues, I usually stay on on the last day. The downside is that you get to watch while the convention disintegrates. Here, I was staying on one last night before moving into the city centre and playing tourist. Around nine I was in the lobbibar, waving bye bye to Carleen, M’Lou and Anne as headed off on the long drive home. Soren and Pat were
also making “we really should be going” noises but were having a hard time prizing themselves away. Around us, people were queuing up to check out and pay bills, waiting outside the hotel for cabs to airports and railway stations. Eileeeeeen turned up to say her farewells before
exiting, stage left. One by one other RAMmers headed back off into the real world. You could almost hear the con winding down.

Mitchy and Brigid, both of whom were commuting in, arrived and Sarah turned up from her overflow hotel. Mark was also staying and eventually there was a hard core of eight or so RAMmers left, occupyibg “our” corner of the Lobbibar. I went out to buy a Sunday paper, staggered back under the weight to the hotel and happily sat down to read the comix. Around midday Beth suggested a final lunch at the diner of a neighbouring hotel and we all trooped over there. We were joined by an Bev. DeWeese who was delighted that i recognised her name and that ofher husband, Gene, through a couple of books he had written about SF conventions and a few MAN FROM UNCLE books. The dines was patterned after a classic American diner and I annoyed Beth by bursting into “Monday, Tuesday... Happy Days” throughout the meal. To mark the occasion I had a Corned Beef Rubens and Root Beer

Back at they Hyatt, everyone dispersed except Mark and me and Jon, who was waiting for his limo and joined us till it arrived. We watched as they dismantled the huge Bouchercon display boards in the hotel foyer and the convention was well and truly over...

You’ll remember that at one point I was swithering about going to Bouchercon. Despite the jet lag and a two day loss of voice I’m REALLY glad I did. CTASFC It was bigger than a national eastercon yet smaller than a Worldcon. Proportionately there were more authors than at SF cons. I saw very little of the panels and met few of the authors but the main reason I was there was to meet the friends I had made through RAM. and they all lived up to their images. Ghod knows what they made of me, mind you... I had a ball and I can’t think of a nicer bunch to hang around with for five days. I’m looking forward to doing it all over again in Austin.

Mark and I stayed in the lobbibar talking until it was early evening and he too had to go. I had something to eat and went back up to the room to join John in watching American football and packing. The next day, I was going to be a tourist.