Sitting on the train nervous.
For five years I've been writing to these people. Talking to them. Laughing with them, and making them laugh.
I've gained a certain measure of respect. My opinion is sought, even deferred to from time to time. They like me. Some of them, in one way or another, even claim to love me.
But we have never met.
They have travelled (though not as far as I), from all over the country, specifically to meet me. To be in a place they know I will be.
What if they are disappointed? If I don't measure up to their expectations?
What, for that matter, are their expectations? Is my persona really me? I think so, but I'm not looking with their eyes. Are they prepared for somebody ordinary?
Nearly there now.
Breathe deeply, deeply.
Oh gods, I hope they like me.
And here I am.
Breathe. Head up. Eyes forward
Enter stage left.
Smile, woman, smile.