The Rain Stops ... the Madness Begins

Saturday Events: Today dawned brightly for 'All Saints Day' ... the rain clouds had parted at last and the morning ws fresh. It was a promising day after so much rain. We had discovered only yesterday that our accommodations came with breakfast, so we gladly had our yogurt, bread, fruit and cheese in the Sala Rosa (the Rose Salon) before we rushed off to our suddenly full schedule at the convention.

The great walls of Lucca has withstood any invasions in the past but would fail today. With the sunshine came the invading hordes of Comics and Games enthusiasts that could not be denied. The narrow streets of Lucca were wall to wall with fans and the gateways through the walls to the games tent were choked with bodies rampart to rampart. The firemen were actually in the tunnels trying to keep traffic to one side or the other (an organization of Italian group dynamics that was necessitated by safety concerns that would be otherwise ignored in favor of traditional 'Italian lines'). As we had a number of events today, we were in full battle-dress: I had my computer backpack with all of our seminar presentation materials in it, our camera case (containing both my HD camera and Laura's digital still camera), our coats and umbrellas and a will to fight our way through anything to get to our events.

We started with an interview for a games magazine. The man doing the interview was very astute and knew all the hard questions to ask. "What was the story behind the third Dragonlance book being canceled?" "Will there be any Dragonlance in forth editions?" We navigated the mine field adroitly and believe to have managed an escape without damaging anyone.

Following our interview was our official book signing of the day. We were to be in the Armenia booth but this proved impractical as the booth was directly adjacent to the main entrance of the show and doing an official signing there would have clogged the firehose of people coming into the show from the outside. They moved our signing to the booth space of an artist nearby who had vacated his booth for a couple of hours while he attended another event. The chaos of our own book signing was then punctuated by the occasional fan of this artists who wanted me to sign the artists artwork. This I gladly did because (1) I wanted to be polite and (2) I had no idea what I was doing and (3) didn't understand enough Italian to get what they were asking me.

Shell-shocked from the signing, we regrouped in the 'living room' -- the local equivalent of a 'green room' -- and examined our options. Our handler had brought us rations from the adjacent food tent; hamburgers and fries although as neither was accompanied by any condiments whatsoever it was a rather dry experience. Laura needed a restroom and, as we had already experienced the myriad of Italian porta-potties the day before, she declined that idea in favor of a retreat back behind the Lucca walls to the relative safety of our own hotel room. We had an hour before our next interview and she was determined. So, shouldering our field pack, cameras and gear, we set off.

It shall forever be remembered as the dreaded March to Universo.

The crowds had swollen to enormous proportions by the time we set out. I cannot estimate how many people there were but accounts by those who had attended before placed the number well into six figures. Merchants claim that the attendees who would have come in previous days had held back and then all rushed the convention today. Three days worth of business is rumored to having been done in that single day.

The immediate and more personal result was that Laura and I found ourselves blocked at every turn. We had long abandoned any American notion of personal space in favor of something of a sort of semi-permanent mosh-pit environment. The crowds strongly reminded me of a group from our new 'Drakis' book ... the mud-gnomes ... whose social dynamics were more like watching a bee-hive operate without really knowing what was going on or how they were communicating their intent to each other. Italians seem to stop and stand in groups wherever it suits them regardless of the surrounding dynamics. They tend to choke access points and just expect everyone else to flow around them. They will stop at any given location, plant themselves and just wait for things to happen. Occasionally if the situation gets very bad, they will get someone official to stand up and organize the traffic in their own way.

The result was that we were unable to find our way OUT of the tent. We stepped into the aisle and tried to merge with whoever was there. Crushed hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder, my backpack like an elephant on my back, we found ourselves at an intersection blocked in all directions. Pushed through (literally) to the food exit we were outside but fences in by the Game Tent perimeter (no guard towers, just fences). We tried to circumnavigate the exterior of the tent but were blocked by the main entrance. We had no choice: we found ourselves back INSIDE the tent. We tried to leave by the main entrance but it was a firehose of people and there was an official person there warning us that -- for now -- the main entrance was one way only and that we would have to leave by another exit. We plunged back into the tent's interior searching for some avenue. We forced our way again outside the tent at the back, this time managing to find a break in the fence. We could see the walls of Lucca now calling us but all around the base was a solid mass of humanity breaking against its stone. We pushed into it as well, pressed and compressed as we were funneled into the close quarters of the ancient gates. We were carried more than anything else through that narrow tunnel and at last erupted into the first piazza of the town. The avenue before us was just as choked so we broke right. One of our interpreters from Australia explained to us that when dealing with Italian lines it is better to think side to side rather than front to back. We broke right down the street behind the Lucca wall and then left again. Our hotel was in sight.

What usually was a five minute walk had taken twenty-five minutes. We had barely staggered into our hotel room when it was time to leave if we had any hope of making our appointed interview. Fortunately, the firemen had taken control of the main Lucca gate and our return only took us fifteen minutes.

As it turned out, Nicola had accidentally scheduled us for TWO interviews at the same time. I went to one interview with an internet radio station while Laura fielded the second interview. My publisher acted as my interpreter and we had a pleasant radio experience. Being in front of a microphone is a natural habitat for Hickmans.


No time to think about that much, however, as it was now a rush to once more escape the tent and teach our writing workshop. This was being held at an academy across the street (crosswalks are only suggestions in Italy). We found ourselves in what appeared to be an elementary class room filled with people. Some were film, some were writers, some were game designers. We gave them the full up workshop through our interpreter. It was a fascinating experience in communication. Each of them got an elaborate certificate which we signed.

No time to think again. We had promised our publisher we would return to his booth after the workshop. Cross the road (wherever ... only a suggestion) and plunge back INSIDE the tent. We signed a number of books, had our photograph taken with everyone who had a camera (read 'everyone') and then another fight back to the hotel. This time the firemen had decided on a different tactic for the Lucca gate ... they would let people go only one way at a time. We were held up on our end while the crowd streamed OUT of the city then that tide was stopped and we were allowed to stream INTO the city.

We were glad to be back in our room for a couple of hours as we had a dinner appointment at the Restaurante Giglio (next to our hotel) with Chris and Gretchen Peterson. Chris is the president of 'Fantasy Flight Games' -- a company whose games I absolutely love. His wife had just arrived a couple of hours before and I had wanted to talk a little business with Chris hoping that he would be interested in taking on the games for our 'Dragonships' series. It turned out to be a fabulous evening: both Chris and Gretchen are our kind of people and we hit it off right away. We talked well into the evening -- nearly closing the Italian restaurant which is NOT an easy thing to do.

It turns out that we are about as much in accord as possible over games. It is a promise end to a well fought day.

Musings: Story transcends language. Here we are in Italy telling stories to Italians. I can barely manage hello in their language and yet we are connected. It is a powerful thing.