And lo, the days were accomplished when the book should be delivered

Credit for the unusual peace of the streets this gorgeous morning may be laid at the door of the fine book distribution network that ensured that Harry Potter and the For Finally It's Here has been pressed into the waiting hands of millions worldwide. I ordered previous books for day-of-release delivery, but I didn't do that this time; it just never seemed pressing enough. Dodging spoilers for a few extra days may be tricky, although the world won't end if I hear something at the wrong moment.

I did, however, visit the local Diagon Alley last night. Holy Fizzing Whizbees, it was grand. The downtown area was packed with people listening to the live music ("Ron Weasley is my best friend/ Even though nobody calls him The Weasel"), getting balloon broomsticks from a wizard in black and gold robes, and photographing one another's costumes--which were, by and large, awesome. There were bewigged Tonkses, Ministry officials identifiable by their top or bowler hats, students in some combination of school kilt/black skirt/white shirt/house tie/V-necked sweater/cape or robe (the few Slytherins looked particularly elegant), house elves resplendent in prosthetic noses or ears and socks pinned to their hats or shirts, dignified professors stroking long false beards, a tall lanky Draco with his dark hair sprayed silver and slicked back, a Death Eater with a glittery "The End Is Near" sign adorned with a Dark Mark, and many groups wearing custom t-shirts, my favorites of which read, in flowery script, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good" on the front and "Mischief managed" on the back.

The stores were in on the fun, too: Marimekko became Madame Malkin's, with a pair of mannequins modeling the latest in cloak fashions. McGinty's became Ye Leake [sic] Cauldron, its revised menu offering firewhisky, butterbeer, dragon bangers and mash, and elderflower wine. Potbelly's turned into the Three Broomsticks, Ben & Jerry's into Florean Fortescue's, and Borders into Flourish and Blott's. Places like the Austin Grill that didn't bother changing identities became havens for people feeling a little overwhelmed by all the crowds outside.

Borders itself, of course, was ground zero for all the parties, offering a Snape debate, costume party, and other events for the evening. I'm sure that all that stuff was tremendous, but by 9 PM there was not a chance in hell of actually getting into the store. They had given out line numbers starting at 10 in the morning, so the line snaked around the TV vans parked to capture the scene, and every inch of floorspace inside the store was crammed with costumed book fans. I left before midnight, the better to miss the surge as the books came out, doubtless an image that would haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights. This morning, the store windows are covered with signs advising that only people will reserved copies can pick them up; "walk-ins accepted after 4 PM." Maybe we could demand socialize book care rather than this literary HMO?

Good fun all around. To everyone who dressed up, worked late, or came up with a silly idea to make the evening memorable, here's to ya. It was a grand show.