The whole family in front of me had round glasses of some type—some Harryish, some real. 

We were in line, outside, in downtown College Park, Maryland.

For The Book.

Evangelists and snarky, too-cool passerby college students couldn’t spoil our mood. In front of me, mostly 10-year-olds, dressed in black cloaks and black wizard hats I’d see all evening. In back, mostly teens, sans stuff.

Darkness was setting. The Wait Had Begun.

I’m an Old School Geek, so this particular fetish took some time to develop. I mean, I just like the movies. But since this was the last one—the last book, the last Friday/Saturday midnight book release party—I had to go to Vertigo.

One little girl was going to make sure the Vertigo folks kept their word about the 10:15 p.m. opening. She stuck her face up against the window and announced, “Two minutes.”

The doors opened on time. Staffer Jennifer Cook was in full let’s-have-fun-kids mode—y’know, the way she always is with grownups who enter Vertigo. 🙂 Kids in tonight’s standard uniform, circled on the floor. She asked them how many have read all the books more than once. Most, if not all, raised their hands.

While looking at the long line, my eye caught something from my childhood: “Charlotte’s Web.”

(Jen to Kids: “Should we trust Snape?”)

That book spawned a great animated film and a live-action movie. But it never created its own culture. I wondered what it would have been like to have a “Charlotte’s Web” club, where kids would walk around dressed as pigs or spiders carrying signs saying “SOME PIG.”

(Jen to Kids, hosting a kind of Harry Potter version of “Jeopardy”: “The Weasley’s home is called THIS.”)

A palm reader was present, while a magician worked the crowd.

One beautiful young sister, looking about 10, not only had the full hood, but the Gryffindor scarf. You know the one.

Slowly, the line became a polite crowd. At least 100, including a tall guy who had on a trench and a “Mad-Eye” Moody eye.

The Bookstore Master Plan was also in effect: some of the patrons were looking at other books.

(Jen to Kids, announcing a Harry Potter quiz: “If you’re not careful, I’ll break out into a bad British accent.”)

Zero hour. Or, more appropriately, the Witching Hour.

My number was Four. I quickly squeezed my way out the store. Knowing now there would be no more.