Sign here

In pursuit of a photo for the highly anticipated Sigman Holiday Greeting 2006, I dove back into the shallow pool that is in-person autograph collecting in Manhattan last week. Herewith is a rundown of that evening:

6:10 p.m.--I arrive at NBC Studios in Rockefeller Center, where it all began for Young Me lo those many years ago. This is mainly a time-killing stop on the way to securing the Sigman Holiday Greeting 2006, but I am hopeful that I can get Artie Lange to sign a softball.

Things have changed since I started pursuing this ridiculous hobby in 1993, so I don't really know a lot of the collectors these days. I am eternally grateful for that, but I am a little nervous when I only see a few people loitering in the lobby, and only one has the desperate eyes of a collector. I'm thinking that maybe they've changed the time of the tapings for "Late Night with Conan O’Brien" and I've missed out on my target. Then some collectors I know from back in the day show up and all is well. Soon, more people I recognize pop up, and it's party time.

6:15 p.m.--Security instructs us to leave the lobby and go outside, a policy that ensures that random people walking through the lobby aren't frightened by the strange-looking folks clutching Sharpies and paint pens. This means that we have to watch the lobby from outside like expectant children, waiting for someone more famous than we are to appear. Doesn't this sound like fun? I don't know why more people in their waning twenties don't do this.

6:20 p.m.--Tracy Morgan comes through the revolving doors. Two people care. He poses for some pictures. He's not a scheduled guest on "Conan," so something else is obviously going on at NBC today.

6:25 p.m--For some reason, Steve Martin and Martin Short are in the lobby. Their car isn't outside, so they just wait in the lobby with the security folks. The collectors can't figure out if they want to break the rules and go inside. I decide that I like Steve Martin too much to bother him. I know that's bizarre logic, but, well, I'm bizarre. Plus, I get the impression from seeing him a few other times that posing for pictures with strangers makes him really uncomfortable. Imagine that.

After a few minutes, one brave collector goes in, closely followed by a few others. Martin Short leaves pretty quickly, leaving Steve Martin to pose for a few photos. When I see the flashes going off, I start rethinking my decision. It's Vincent "Tod Wilkinson" Antonelli, for Pete's sake. But I hold strong. I think he finally just gets sick of waiting and goes into a car that will take him anywhere that's not here.

6:31 p.m.--Alec Baldwin comes out of the revolving doors. His shirt is fighting a brave battle to contain his neck. And losing. Someone asks to take a picture, to which he responds, "I can't do more than one." And then walks away. Awesome. That takes its place next to Hank Azaria's response to a guy asking him to sign a rolled-up newspaper many years ago: "If I sign for you, I have to sign for everybody." The guy was everybody. And he was Hank Azaria. Good times.

One of my disinterested collector friends yells out, "How about that one, Alec?" as he heads to his towncar. I don't know if the heckling got to him, but he does pose for the one.

6:44 p.m.--Pandemonium erupts as John Mayer makes his way to his van. His music makes me want to jab my ears with a screwdriver, but he seems like a decent enough guy. He signs for a bunch of people, including some very appreciative young women. Then, once he's in his van, my reason for being there, Artie Lange, comes out. He signs for anyone who wants an autograph and takes pictures, too. I get him to sign the softball. Mission #1 accomplished.

As Artie signs, I think Mayor Bloomberg comes into the building. Or at least that's what I hear people saying. I'm caught in a crowd of people and can't see much. Then I move to the side of the building, and Zach Braff rushes by. He heads straight into his car while everyone else is distracted. A few collectors try to get him and are rebuffed. Then I lose sight of the collectors, which probably means that they went to go follow him. Sorry I had to miss out on that, but I had a Christmas card photo to get.

6:46 p.m.--As I leave, Jon Lovitz is standing outside in a white jogging suit, flanked by two security guys. People are taking pictures of him and imploring him to smile.

7:06 p.m.--I arrive at the "Colbert Report" studios, located on a dark block where I can't help but look suspicious. This is why I don't do this much. It makes me feel creepy. Well, that, and it loses its charm as you approach 30. There’s a fine line between collecting and social retardation.

7:21 p.m.--Some collectors arrive. I immediately wish it was just me here. They're loud, annoying, and armed with pick guards for the night's guest. The pick guards, once signed, are then attached to a guitar and sold for a lot. It's a hassle to bring six guitars out, but it's a breeze to carry six pick guards. But, inexplicably, one of them also has a guitar. And he's idly strumming it and composing songs about one of his fellow collectors, most of which consist of affronts on his sexuality and graphic descriptions of his alleged sexual proclivities. This goes on for about 15 minutes. I am apparently the only one who doesn't find it amusing. Well, unless you count the people walking back to their apartments who can't decide if the gay bashing was directed toward them. They didn't look too pleased. But luckily, the people who live on West 54th St. are not violent. Lucky for the collector, I mean.

7:47 p.m.--The guest emerges, and his security guy informs us that we can only get one thing signed each. But that just means that after one of the collectors gets one thing signed, they slide over and thrust another item out. If I cared about actually getting an autograph this time, I guess I would have been annoyed. But I just really wanted the picture for the Sigman Holiday Greeting. And, after a camera malfunction, I got it.

So, who will be on the Sigman Holiday Greeting?

December's only a few months away. Be patient. It might be my favorite one yet.

Of course, the journalists/amateur sleuths among you will be able to figure it out. I’ve given you enough clues, people.

7:50 p.m.--Another exciting night on the town ends. Let's hope that I don't feel compelled to do this again anytime soon.