As I rifled through my backpack trying to figure out what would be my first book to read on this Arizona trip, I realized that my appearance was probably not what someone would suspect of a book reviewer who writes for two metro newspapers.
This is me in my wonderful, beautiful Arizona hotel room that has a view of both the 24-hour jacuzzi and mountains. I’m not very good with the mirror picture yet, so you’ll have to cut me some slack. I hope you’ll cut me even more, too, since I got up at 4:30am to catch my flight this morning, and didn’t get to Arizona until 11am EST.
When I whipped a stack of self help books out of my bag, the gentleman in the adjoining seat must have thought I was a sad sack case. There I was, traveling alone (I’m here for work — promise) in a disheveled get up made of too-big sweat pants, too-big t-shirt and too-big hoodie, my carry on bag a back pack that looks like it’s been in use since high school (all true, except for the sad sack part). The only company I brought was my iPod and self help titles. I was very tempted to “accidentally” leave the galley on the seat between us so he’s see the “preview copy – not for sale” stamp so that he’s realize I’m not a schlub but a writer who happened to be woken up two hours before her normal start time, and if I’m getting up before the sun, I’m going to be comfy dammit!
Then again — who cares? He was no Prince Charming himself. Such is the joy of flying.
So here’s my question to you: what would YOU expect a book reviewer to look like?
P.S. And to the person in front of me on the flight from Philly to Atlanta — I know you have long hair. I have it too. But it’s not cool to flip it over the back of your seat so it’s hanging in my face. Yuck.