Now I confess that I have not read a Series of Unfortunate Events. I haven't seen the movie in it's entirety. I didn't even finish the one book I did begin, that being the Carniverous Carnival. Not out of lack of interest or anything, but lack of time. My 12-year-old sister is nuts about the book though, and about a week an a half ago I was passing by Barnes and Noble in Union Square and there was a big sign that prompted me to call her, which in turn caused her to shriek ecstatically into the phone for about thirty whole seconds. Yes, on the Friday of October 13th, when the thirteenth and final book of a Series of Unfortunate Events was to be released, Lemony Snicket would be signing books at that very Barnes and Noble.

I'm sorry, that was really hammy. I kind of felt that it called for a little drama, since I'm fond of those big book release/signing gatherings (stemming from the early days of Harry Potter). Lucky for me I have Fridays off, and due to my sister being unable to come into the city by herself (let alone skip school), I promised her I'd get her an autographed copy of the last book. What could be a better 13th birthday gift? See, I can be a good sister, sometimes.

I woke up at 7:30, way too early for my school-addled self, and with maybe less than 5 hours of sleep under my eyelids. It was freezing but when I arrived at about 8, the line was surprisingly short. At least short compared to how many people showed up in total. They were doing a color-coded wristband system, and I recieved the red wristbands which allowed access to the seating area as well as first group to get books signed. So my early-birdedness was not in vain!

By the time the actual event rolled around at 4, I had managed to secure a 3rd row aisle seat. There was a half-hour performance by the Gothic Archies, featuring Lemony Snicket on percussions. Unfortunately, the elusive author had given us the slip, so some guy named Daniel Handler and the uekele player had to perform without him. But it was not at all a loss. Guess what Mr. Handler played that granted me a whole new level of respect and admiration for him.

The ACCORDION.

So they performed a few songs and got some volunteers up to help out with sound effects during a reading from the last book. This man was amazing in ways I can't even comprehend. When he demonstrated to one of the young volunteers how to properly hold and utilize the sand-tambourene, his instructions were to hold it "as if you were strangling a baby". He chided them for putting themselves in mortal peril by climbing up on the stage, and had they taken the safe way by the stairs it would've put them at far less of a risk. His wit was droll and gloomy, yet sharp, and when he launched into an accordion solo rendition of "Scream and Run Away", (complete with an explanation of 'vamping': playing the same thing over and over again which drives people crazy; and the book's illustrator drawing a picture of Count Olaf in tune with the music), the audience - kids and parents and smelly old adults alike - went absolutely bananas. Oh, does that man know how to command an audience!

My lucky seating granted me a quick wait in line to receive a page embossment and an autograph. I was surprised by how friendly and personal he was face to face. I didn't stay long enough to see everyone after me, but he made brief chat with every person in his dry witty way. When I told him the book was to be a gift for my sister's 13th birthday, he signed it "Hope you live to see 14". I told him what an honor it was to hear him play accordion and we shook hands. For someone who had barely read his books, I felt on the verge of having a fan moment and jumping around ecstacally, but I'm glad I saved myself the embarassment. The illustrator, who was also signing, drew a little birthday cake, which I thought was a very thoughtful touch. We shook hands as well, I thanked them both, and walked safely down the stairs (NOT stepping off the stage!) with a feeling of a once-in-a-lifetime mission accomplished.

That series is on my list of books to read before I meet my most grim and miserable end.