Lisa and I went to hear Sarah Vowell read at the Lisner last night. It was supposed to start at 8, and our seats were way down in front, row F. We got there in time to have a quick drink in the lobby, then we went in.

And waited.

Around 8:10 or so, an announcement was made that Sarah’s train from New York had been delayed, but that she was on her way. They played a recording of an old NPR interview with her, with readings from The Partly Cloudy Patriot, and we all listened to and laughed at that.

Then (and this was adorable) a staff member brought her cell phone to the microphone, and we could hear Sarah on the phone. She answered a couple of questions and described how her Acela train had been stopped for two or three hours. If I were you I’d expect an essay called “Those Acela People” or “Rescue Train” (as these were phrases she enjoyed using) in her next book. As she was being driven towards us, she told us where she was. The phone call started at 1st and C, or thereabouts, making it clear she’d just gotten off the train, and when she hung up she was at 18th and Virginia. The auditorium is at 21st and H. She came running up to the podium only a few minutes later, with no introduction. I suspect she ran directly from the car to the podium.

She read from Assassination Vacation and from some columns she’s been writing for the New York Times, including the one that’s going to run this coming Sunday. It was all funny, including (or especially) the little asides, and everyone laughed at the right places. It felt nice to be in an auditorium of smart people who thought things I thought were funny were funny. Sometimes with writers like Sarah Vowell I tend to think “not everyone would get this” and feel sort of proud of myself, and while that’s true, I forget that “not everyone” is still a hell of a lot of people.

Of course, one of the longest readings was from the Oneida vegetarian sex cult part of the book, and that’d get laughs from anyone.

She took lots of audience questions. There was a cute story about her nephew going to kindergarten and telling his classmates “My Aunt Sarah was Violet in The Incredibles!” and having no one believe him (“Yeah? Well my dad is Batman!”). There were lots of little, slightly grumbled asides about the vice president shooting people, of course. Stuff like that is liberal comedy gold, you know. Someone asked who she thought the next president and vice president should be, and what may have been the night’s biggest laugh came when she answered, “Well … I’m a Democrat; we don’t really think that way.”

On the way out there was a mess as the staff tried to line up people for book signings back into the exit tunnel from the seats, simultaneously with people who didn’t know that trying to get to the line and people who just wanted to leave trying to get to the door … and at one point someone quietly said “excuse me” and squeezed quickly between me and Lisa … and of course it was Sarah. The staff made her go back into the auditorium and around the back of the line to get through, which was funny. We were all in line to talk to her, after all.

Once the leavers were gone and the herd had thinned, we looked at the book-signing line (I had Assassination Vacation in my hand) and decided, what with the late start (it was about 10:15 at this point) we’d be there until midnight. There were a LOT of people wanting books signed. So I decided (“she totally bumped into me”) what I’d seen was enough, and I didn’t need to be the 200th person to have my book signed, and we went home.