Times Square Confidential

Ah, there's nothing like leaving your house when it's still completely dark, there's a moon hanging in the sky, and it's freezing out.

But one bus, two trains and three thaw-outs later, I made it to Penn Station in New York by 9 a.m., at which point I caught a cab to Times Square. (Lame, I know, but the train had arrived late, so I was running late, and... well, I did mention how cold it was, right?) If you've even been to Times Square, you know that ABC has their studio in full view, right on the corner of Broadway and 44th. I was instructed to report to a certain steel door on 44th Street. Security checked me. The show's producer, Christina, met me in the lobby, then took me upstairs to the makeup/green room area. We rode up in the largest freakin' elevator I've ever seen. The Cloverfield monster would have fit in this elevator.

I met the makeup team, and pretty much wished them luck. "I'm a writer," I explained. "They don't let us out much." They sushed me, and started to apply the goods, especially under my eyes. (I inherited these dark circles from my dad. We both look like we were born to be extras in George Romero flicks.) The end result? I didn't look quite as dead as usual. Kudos to the makeup team!

From there, I went back downstairs to watch host Gigi Stone interview the first female Iron Chef (or something like that; honestly, I was too nervous to really comprehend what the hell they were talking about). Next thing I know, I was being fitted with a microphone. Then they showed me how to face my copy of Dr. Watson towards one camera, while at the same time, keeping my eyes locked on Ms. Stone. Nervous as I was, this seemed like an impossible task, like, Okay, we need you to dismantle the nuclear device while looking up at the ceiling and performing these simple differential equations. I would have liked an hour to rehearse; I had 15 seconds.

But you know, once you dive in, you've just gotta swim. I don't honestly remember much of the segment. I think I made all of the points I wanted to make. I was told I did fine, and held the book towards the camera so expertly, there was no need to tape any pick up shots. Which makes me really proud.

I'm pretty sure I slipped a Cloverfield joke in there somewhere, because at about 4 a.m. that morning, I had dared myself to. So that was cool.

Then it was over. I thanked everyone, recovered my jacket, and headed out into cold Manhattan morning. I stopped by and met with my Marvel editors for a while, kind of forgetting that I was, um, still wearing makeup. (Honestly, Axel, I'm just that rosy-cheeked!) I stopped into the Empire State Building and picked up a few gifts, because my son is a complete Empire State Building junkie. He'd have pinups of that sucker on his bedroom ceiling if he could.

Anyway, the ABC thing should be online sometime next week. I'll link to it, unless I made a complete ass of myself and/or I still look like a member of the walking dead.

If It's Friday, I Must Be in Times Square

At nine o'clock this morning, if you were to have asked me where I'd be nine o'clock the next morning, I would have said: "Um, my desk? At work?"

Nope. Instead I'll be at the Times Square studio of ABC News Now, taping a segment about The Crimes of Dr. Watson. Surprised the hell out of me, too. But the book seems to have caught the eye of a producer, and she liked it enough to invite me up to talk about it. Which is awesome. The segment (as long as I don't completely botch it, that is) should air sometime next week, both on cable and online.

The only downside is that I have to report to the studio by 9 a.m., which means I'll be leaving Philly really really early. I don't even want to think about how early. Yes, they joke about Philly being a suburb of New York. But that's only if you don't have to commute from Northeast Philadelphia to Times Square on a cold Friday morning. Then, somehow, it feels much further away. Like, two states away.

So, no Hardboiled Friday entry tomorrow. But Saturday morning I'll catch you up on what happened at the taping. Wish me luck.