I couldn't even legally DRINK in 1982, but when I got to Seattle Mystery Bookshop, they immediately plastered The Mighty Rack with STAFF PICK stickers and got me to stand in the display window so they could take pictures of me doing the robot, which is ABSOLUTELY circa 1982, and I REALLY think they should have given me a drink first, even though I was in 1982 a virtuous and teetotaling high school freshman. So, yes, there SHOULD rightfully have been cocktails, because I am CERTAINLY not a high school freshman NOW, even though I am SO sleep deprived and punchy that dog fart jokes seem TRULY MADLY DEEPLY funny in a way they haven't since I leapt the hormonal hurdle of 14.
TO BE FAIR... they only asked that I get in the window. They didn't actually SAY I had to do the Robot, but Fran HINTED that I should by singing DOMO ARIGATO in a Styx-ian, suggestive manner. SO their DESIRES were clear. I live to serve, but I DID wish I had had the drink. Irish Coffee. Because Seattle is a coffee town.
Digression: My discreet media escort would not tell me who, but she told me she once had an author get in on a ten am flight and when they got to the car she said, "Want to go by your hotel first and drop off bags" and he said, "No. I want to go by a bar and drop IN some whiskey." And this was BEFORE anyone gave him paper STAFF PICK nipples and asked him to, I dunno, Charleston his way down the stacks. Which I bet they did if he stopped by here.
This ain't your sainted Granny's bookshop.