Although I'm usually a weenie about leaving my comfort zone, I went to the Litblog Co-Op's Book Expo America (BEA) gathering on Thursday night. Levi of Literary Kicks had sent me an email about it, and I have wanted to meet him since I've been a longtime fan of his site. Despite what happened at the last blogmeet, Eddie agreed to be my escort and we squeezed our way into the bar after fortifying ourselves at a Thai restaurant.

Drinks in hand, our goal was to find Levi. At first, I thought it'd be impossible because A) the place was crowded, B) I had no idea what he looked like, and C) seeing trade show badges momentarily made me flash back to my first American Booksellers Association convention in the old days before Reed took it over and renamed it. It was not a pleasant experience and included repeatedly wondering, "What am I doing here?" This question became a mantra at every subsequent conference I attended, including our own biannual sales meetings. (Well, maybe not every conference. I always liked NJEA in Atlantic City even though "naughty" doesn't come close to describing what it feels like to gamble alongside a clutch of habited nuns.) It took considerable effort to shut off the mantra, which had automatically engaged and was running on autopilot, in order to push through to the back of the bar.

Luckily, Levi was conspicuously wearing a name tag. He gave me a warm greeting, instantly setting me at ease, and so the ice I had built up around meeting other litbloggers was finally broken. Thank you, Levi.

Eddie and I had stepped into the middle of a conversation between Levi and Miriam Parker, who surprised me when she said she worked at Little, Brown. Had I been in her shoes, standing among a lot of litbloggers, I might have said that I worked for Hachette (the parent company) and saved Little, Brown for conversation with dead tree media. Miriam, though, was lovely, certainly didn't seem to think litbloggers are "some sort of interstitial or synovial fluid," and restored my respect for her employer. She graciously said I should let her know if there was anything from Little, Brown that I wanted, so, in my usual tact-filterless style, I asked for Shannon Byrne's head on a plate. Poor Miriam.

This reminds me. I need to order a maggot totebag.

From there, Levi introduced me to Ed Champion, the one blogger I instantly recognized. Ed and I have a long history, which goes back pre-BookBlog in the days when I operated under my real name. He might not remember it since being nearly dooced forced me temporarily off the Internet as a step toward unGoogling myself. In any case, Ed and I have butted heads on more than one occasion so I said, after shaking his hand, "It's the slattern herself—in person." He is both taller and more affable than I had imagined, and I would very much enjoy getting to know him now that he has relocated to the East Coast.

I met C. Max Magee and his entourage from The Millions and Sarah Weinman from Galleycat. Bud Parr of MetaxuCafe looked uncomfortable when I introduced myself. He and I know why, and I'll leave it at that. On my end, though, there are no hard feelings. At a later point, I found myself in a group with The Written Nerd but the ongoing conversation prevented me from properly saying hello. I also met a handful of authors and other bloggers, and I wish I had thought to write down everyone's name immediately after the gathering.

Since Thursday was a school night for Eddie and things were going well (i.e. I survived making small talk.), we decided to cut out early. I found Levi to say goodbye and ran into Ed upon exiting the bar. He introduced me to Richard Nash of Soft Skull and then it all went wrong. Soft Skull was recently sold, and I curiously asked, "So at BEA, are you standing in your booth or Charlie Winton's?"

Before I explain what happened next, I must first point out that I meant nothing by the question other than to find out which booth he was physically working. When my publishing employer was a tiny house, we used Publishers Group West for left coast sales representation and I found myself—more than once—standing in a booth with Winton as he made nice-nice with us. (Me being in international sales, he very well may have been asking himself, "What's she doing here?" as I simultaneously wondered, "What am I doing here?") Later, when we were sold to a media giant on the eve of a Frankfurt Book Fair, I spent the show in a booth making nice-nice with the new bosses. So I know, from both ends, what it feels like to be in Soft Skull's situation.

My question caused Richard to gasp, "Well, I suppose it's my booth."

Ed next let out a hearty guffaw and said, "Now that's a ballsy question. I may have to blog this."

I was confused at first by their reactions, but I soon realized the implication behind what I had asked when Richard turned to the woman next to him and began a quiet tete-a-tete about the sale. I hung around for a few extra moments hoping to break in to explain where I was coming from, but it was clear damage had been done and I was being ignored. Sigh. [Update: Checking the comments below, Richard popped in to let me know that I totally misread the situation. Misunderstanding cleared; blogging rocks.]

Eddie and I made a quick getaway. I felt much better when we stopped for ice cream on the way home. However, he brought me right back to reality when he refused to let me taste his flavors despite repeated requests and offers of a lick from my cone. He shoved the last of his ice cream into his mouth with a smirk because nothing pleases him more than making my usually spoiled self pout.