My First Date With Matt Gross, The Frugal Traveler

I have never been to a bookstore reading before
tonight.   My distaste has had
nothing to do with the author, who is most often simply whored out on a press
junket, kneeling in front of the genitals of potential amazon.com five-star
reviewers. I can swallow that concept just as fast as the writer can swallow
the ejaculation that comes in the form of praise.  Rather, my apathy seemed more rooted in the suspicion that
the audience would be a congregation of fucking dweebs.  Tonight’s little thingy at Idlewild Books
didn’t completely upturn this philosophy but it did help me turn a corner
towards coming to terms with my own little inner dork.

I should start by saying that Idlewild Books (12 W. 19^th
Street, New York, 212-414-8888) is to a travel writer what Al’s House Of Titty
Porn is to a porn addict. 
Mecca.  Devoted entirely to
travel, each section is arranged by location, as is custom.  But the kicker is that the owners have
gone to great pains to include reading beyond guidebooks for each territory,
allowing for a piddly brain like mine to understand the cultural magnitude of
places that my public-schooled-ass might not have known.  For example, Borges’ Collected
Fictions and Bruce Chatwin’s In Patagonia sit right next to Moon
Buenos Aires and LP Argentina.  All of this is housed in a loft that feels decorated
by real people and not architects who love to frolic in plywood.  It made me feel like I was in San Francisco
instead of New York City.  That’s a
huge deal.

The reason for tonight’s gathering of thirty-odd people was
a talk by Matt Gross, otherwise known as The Frugal Traveler from The New York
Times.  Something of a Menudo
scenario, Matt inherited the column from several other writers who have come in
and out of the section since 1994.  
He’s added a blog topspin that seems to have breathed new life into the
section.  As a travel freakazoid, a twice-weekly reader of
The Times and a person who reads twenty blogs a day,  I was surprised that I had not read his column before
and curiously tip-toed into the room, unsure of what to expect from him.

It must be a sensational burden to begin your day with a
word as un-sexy as “frugal” stamped on your byline.  The thing is, Matt Gross is kind of a piece of ass.   He’s got the geekchic thing down
to the button and could easily be a member of Weezer or Modest Mouse (granted,
most likely the bassist).   He
rocked a fresh new traveler beard, an early 90’s Gap sensibility and an
endearing sense of humility.  He
seemed (duh) very well traveled and mentioned the name of each country
with perfect pronunciation (“Oor-O-Gway”), yet pulled it off without a sense of
self-importance. He ended up being sweet and disarming from the get-go, almost
suspiciously so. I’m not suggesting anything terribly nefarious, but he might
be the kind of guy who secretly harbors anal beads in the way-back of his
closet.

Over the course of thirty minutes he read passages from a
few books (lamenting the recent suicide of David Foster Wallace in one reading)
and told a few tales from his recent Grand Tour of Europe, during which he
re-imagined the “classic European journey” on less then 100 Euros a day.   He covered everything from
solo-traveler-psychology to Cambodian brothels to Organic Apple Farms to The French
Riviera to the benefits of a Capitol One Visa card.  There was no annoying reach for an overall theme or
continuity, which went perfectly well for my ADD-riddled mind.  The time flew by but I still retained
some information, which is almost a lunar event for the vacuous space between
my ears.  I fucking loved the guy.

I have to admit that the crowd was not as bad as I had
imagined.   Sure, there were
the people who hung on every word and guffawed at even the weak jokes (nothing
must be more unsettling than to know that the words coming out of your mouth
aren’t as funny as planned, yet there is the one woman Kathy Bates-ing you with a massive “HA!” and knee-slap). 
There were the wine-grabbers, a couple of mid-thirties women who downed
thirteen (counted) glasses of free wine between them. Or the lady who
farted.  Or the man who repeatedly
licked the ghost of cheese from his fingers.  Overall though, this was a group of people that I would
probably like to hang out with.  In
fact, they might be the exact crew that I would choose if I could
cherry-pick the other passengers of a hellish, six hour chickenbus ride through
Peru (do you daydream about shit like this too?). 

Frugal Matt says that he’s been working on a book,
tentatively titled “Just Go”.  It
seems to be an inspirational kick-in-the-ass for mainstreamers who might be
wary of trying new places and new things. 
He seems to be more than just The Frugal Guy and I’m looking forward to
the day when he might be able to shrug off this title, no matter how far it is
probably getting him.  
There’s a hint of something else there and I like it.   With a baby on the way, he says
that he is not sure how intensive next summer’s big trip will be.   That’s fine by me – I’d be just
as happy to hear about a two week jaunt into the guts of a country that is new to
him.   He’s most alive and
vibrant when talking about the path that hasn’t been beaten that I wonder if
his best work might not be ahead of him, outside of this whole Frugal
thing. Or if The Times might give him the go-ahead to be a bit more of the person that seems to be lingering inside his brain.

Until then, I’m bookmarking his blog right next to
analbeads.com.