We went out to greet Harry at midnight for the last time. Big bookstore bashes were booming at the two large book seller chains in
First stop, Barnes and Noble. Lines of people were stretched around the block away from the doorway in both directions. Apparently no one was getting into the store until midnight. That didn't look fun. We were looking for a party.
Next stop, Borders. We found a parking place and went inside.
First observation: Harry Potter's fans have grown up. I estimate the median age of the crowd to be 18 or 19 -- about the same age as Harry (who I think should be 18 now, but according to my daughter, is actually 17 in the last book; it must be because one of the books was a year behind schedule). Many wore assorted versions of witch and wizard costumes: capes, cloaks, wands and tall, pointed hats. They gathered in groups on the floor between the aisles, playing cards, looking at books, and socializing. One girl sat on the floor alone, working a Harry Potter word search puzzle.
"If I may please have your attention ...." the courteous voice over the PA system was not easy to make out from our location near the front door, but it continued, "Very soon we will be bringing out the books." The voice politely requested customers to clear the wide aisle down the center of the store, warning that, "the books are heavy, and once the pallets start rolling, they are very difficult to stop," and the voice did not want to be responsible for hurting anyone.
The three of us moved out of the aisle, but apparently the announcements weren't effective for some; the polite tone gradually broke down to grim threats of imminent smashings of small children that were certain to occur once the pallets laden with 700+ page Harry Potter books began to roll down the center aisle, squashing flat everything in their path! Those poor children would soon resemble the dead possum we passed on the highway today, and not even Harry's magic wand would be able to bring them back to life!
Across the soon-to-be-deadly aisle I caught the eye of a tall blond wizard I recognized as one of my students. He grinned and waved, then settled back to a conversation with the girl next to him seated on the floor.
While I was very interested in being witness to the inevitable violence that was certain once those books began their trek down the center aisle, I grew tired of the wait. With the knowledge that there would not be a book there for us (we had not reserved one in advance), we decided to take our opportunity for escape.
Next stop: Albertson's. Albertson's?? I remembered that the grocery store had Harry Potter books for sale in the past, and Heather and I talked Daniel into stopping there on the way home, much to his chagrin. By now it was just a few minutes before midnight.
There were few cars in the parking lot. Daniel waited in the car, expecting to soothe our dashed hopes with an I-told-you-so. Upon entering the store, Heather and I saw approximately 20 customers queued up -- we knew why! We smiled at each other, knowing who would be saying I-told-you-so this time! However, an employee at the head of the line was making a disappointing announcement: We have only six books, she said.
Only six? Yes, she verified. They sent us one case. When we opened it, there were only six books inside. They are big books.
Now things were beginning to get interesting. People at the front counted off. A tall middle-aged man who was approximately 7th in line insisted that he had been one of the first six to arrive and he deserved a book. He began to challenge the other customers and assert his right to buy the sixth copy.
The small, round, cherub-faced employee was now forced into the role of police officer/mediator. I wondered if her Albertson's employee training had prepared her for this role. Soon another employee, a taller and equally fresh-faced young man, came forth to the fray. He was obviously deeply troubled -- and provoked to resistance -- by the older man's angry demeanor. The two men dug in their heels and positioned metaphorical antlers in an age-old contest of strength and will.
Heather and I, having mastered the Buddhist principle of non-attachment, stood by in observance, with bemused smiles on our faces. I watched with some wonder as members of the crowd displayed varying reactions to the conflict, even those who were not involved in the dispute, and gave up their position willingly. One couple stomped out, the man saying, "Come on, this is Harry Potter! It's supposed to be fun!!"
After they had all determined their rightful places in line, at issue was the common economic problem of how to distribute limited resources. Should family members be allowed to buy a book for each person, or should they take only one to share until tomorrow, when the books would certainly be readily available around town? I casually threw in my 2 cent opinion for the latter solution, even though we weren’t in the running for a book. But the antagonist had now made himself so unpopular that it was impossible for anyone to rule in his favor – even if it would be the most fair and just outcome.
As we left the store, I saw the disgruntled customer scanning something at the checkout counter, and I thought I heard someone ask him if he was satisfied now. His response was not conciliatory: “I won’t be back anyway. Not to this store.” By his tone, it sounded like perhaps he had secured the book. We left not knowing whether or not he got the sixth copy.
Now Heather was in the mood to continue the hunt. It’s not that she cared so much about getting the book right then; if that were true, she would have reserved one during one of her frequent bookstore visits. She just didn’t want the fun to stop.
Daniel agreed to try one more Albertson’s store not far away. But this too was a dry well. They told us they had received 20 books and 15 had been on reserve. We decided to buy some cookies anyway. The young man in line in front of us had the book and was reading the prologue. He said, “I’m going to read the ending,” then seeing my horrified expression, he qualified it by explaining his plan to play a joke on his roommate. He would walk into the apartment with the book open to the last few pages, feign shock at the ending, and toss the book to the ground in disgust, saying, “So that’s how it ends!”
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July 21, 2007
This morning, Heather got up and asked us to take her out to get the book. On a whim, I phoned the store where Heather was scheduled to work at 1:30, to ask if they had any copies. Irony of ironies, they told me yes, so I hopped in the car and drove down there, only to find them sold out.
Later this afternoon we bought one at Costco. They had hundreds stacked on pallets 12 feet square and 4 feet deep. I also brought home two of the cardboard cases the books had been shipped out in; they are a good size for storage, and they're cool because they have the book title and release date stamped on the outside. On the box it says "10 books." It seems as if the people at Albertson's had not been completely honest about the scarcity of this resource. Perhaps they were hoarding some for themselves. Hmmm...
And that’s how the story of our family's search for Harry Potter ends, for the last time.
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