Two goth kids walk into the Borders in Lincoln Park, and, as one would suspect, head straight for the display featuring “Out of Sync,” the new book from Lance Bass, who’s scheduled to appear in the store shortly. They lean towards the rules of the event posted underneath Lance’s smirking face: “Lance Bass will be in the store for a limited time. A wristband guarantees a spot in line but does guarantee that you will meet Lance Bass; Books only please; Sorry, no personalizations.” A Borders’ staff lady approaches the duo, “Are you guys here for Lance Bass?” One responds, cordially, “Yeah, um, is he gonna talk?” “No,” she says. “He’s just here to sign. You’ll need to buy the book and they’ll give you a wristband. And he will not personalize.”
Even with the harsh rules, Borders is buzzing with Bass fever, and the store has divvied out those suffering from such an affliction into five groups, each with a different colored wristband, each standing in different lines dispersed throughout the store. Strangely, not a lot of people are wearing *NSYNC t-shirts (that is so 1999), but they do have plenty of *NSYNC merchandise, random cell phones play “I Drive Myself Crazy,” and one woman says, “I’ve never been in a strip club before, but I would’ve gone if *NSYNC was in there.”
Once Lance is seated, one woman approaches him with immense joy, spouting off an obviously rehearsed but clearly genuine line: “I’ve waited eleven years of my life to meet you, and it is a pleasure.” “Wow,” Lance says, forcing a laugh, making sure not to personalize. (Andy Seifert)
