Last night I went to David Walker's signing at the Portland Things From Another World: yesterday was the debut of his latest comic, Power Man and Iron Fist for Marvel Comics, and Walker's been busy enough lately that he's gotten all sorts of other good comics out, including his damn good revival of Shaft. (He's worked enormously hard to get to this point, and lately, finally, it's been paying off in more attention and praise.) He got a good turnout, and happily visited with a bunch of cool people as he signed their comics and trade collections.
One friend of mine who I haven't seen for a while showed up, not for the signing but because it was New Comic Day and they had books waiting to be bought. My friend and I saw each other, said hi, and started visiting in line while I waited to visit with Walker and have him sign a book of his. David, my friend, and I visited for a few minutes, then my friend and I...kept visiting. Or more to the point, my friend kept talking.
I felt button-holed. Not much chance to add my own thoughts and updates to what became a fairly one-sided conversation. Not much of the give-and-take you hope to have in a good talk. And I was more and more aware that friends and acquaintances I also wanted to say "hi" to were passing through the event, and I was missing them. And my friend wasn't wrapping things up. I tried sending some signals that I wanted to end the talk; I didn't want to bluntly say "Well, it's been good to see you, and now I'm going to say hi to some other people." Because I worried I'd sound like I don't want to visit you, because I meant I want to visit you and others.
Eventually my friend finished so that they could head to a late dinner, and apologized for how long and one-sided our chat had been. So, at some level, my friend knows that I'd felt button-holed; I didn't need to bring it up again. Unless, as I said in the other entry, it happens again.