Disapparate

Yesterday, Will and I were sitting around a hotel pool with my family in Santa Barbara, after a weekend that consisted almost entirely of eating and shopping, when our friend Zanon called to invite us to the Magic Castle. The Magic Castle is the world's most famous private clubhouse for magicians, is home to the Academy of Magical Arts, and is only open to members and their invited guests. Zanon, knowing one of last night's performing magicians, was able to get four guest passes.

It's not the first time that we had been invited to the castle, but it was the first time our schedules allowed us to attend, so we packed up our beach gear, said our goodbyes, and got on the road. And then we sat in traffic. And some more traffic. And some slower traffic. It became apparent that there was no way that we would make it all the way home with time to shower, get dressed in the required cocktail attire, and drive back into Hollywood to meet Zanon and Kelly for the 7:30 show.

So we did what any normal people would do in such a situation.

We pulled off the freeway into a shopping mall and dropped a few bones on some cocktail attire (dress, coat, tie, pants, socks, the whole bit). Will washed his hair in a sink. I put on my makeup and painted my nails during the remainder of the car ride. And, when we got to Hollywood, we stopped in an alley, stripped out of our beach clothes, and threw on our newly purchased formal wear. Presto Chango! We made it with five minutes to spare. I don't think I even have to point out how good we looked.

The Magic Castle was fantastic. There was wine and big desserts, which would have made me plenty happy by themselves, but there was also magic. As you might imagine, there were many tricks involving cards and coins, rings and rope, silk fabric and doves. We whispered "Open Sesame" and a bookcase opened up to a grand salon. We met Irma, the invisible ghostly pianist. We got reserved seats and a VIP tour from Zanon's magician friend, Eric.

Finally, we must have looked good enough, because Will and I were asked to be the assistants in one of the shows (sparkle, sparkle). We sat with the magician for the whole show and got to do very important tasks like check if the coins were real and choose a number between one and ten. I did a very official job, I think, considering the two large glasses of Pinot Noir, but I may have slacked during quality control of the long string which was cut up into tiny pieces and put back together before our very eyes.

It was all very Harry Potterish which was decidedly apropos considering that we had just been at the book release party two days prior, all dressed up as Harry and Hermione. Somehow we worked magic and were the 7th people to receive the book despite the some 3,000 people in line (magic having to do with knowing the party volunteers and Barnes and Noble employees). Will had the book with him all weekend, sneaking in pages when he could, and was avoiding the Internet, text messages, and phone calls for fear of spoilers.

Now, if we could only get a disapparate spell. Traffic would be so less of an issue.