Phoenix Comicon: Part 6 -- Photos or it DIDN'T HAPPEN!

So, as is customary with Awesome Things That Happen That Are Unbelievable, I present to you pictures that my friend Tanya posted from Phoenix Comicon 2010, as well as some of my crappy phone pics!

"HOMFG WE'RE AT PHOENIX COMICON!" is our reaction here.

There were many strange costumes.... but these guys were by far the strangest things I saw... pretty unbelievable...

I met the Green Power Ranger! (He needs to lay off the corn chips and mojitos)

Me, after I got offstage after dancing Bad Romance. Sad I can't find any pics/video of the actual happenings.... oh well.

LOOK AT THAT SPREAD AT GEEK PROM!! I mean, come on! Normal proms don't even cater flavor of this magnitude! #RobotChickenStarWarsQuote #AckbarIsATrap #TwitterHashtagsInBloggerLAWL!

Me and Spock dancing it up at Geek Prom! Oh yeah, look at our geeky threads!

A drink at the Hard Rock Cafe!!! 8D

Water at the Hard Rock Cafe!!! 8D (Oh man, was I dehydrated by that point....)

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(Crappy phone pics time!)


My favorite part of the WiL's SouR CReAm -- KePp You HaNz oF iT o ElS!


Are you READY to RAID?! ROCK?! (Cuz I was ^_~)


After Rock Band -- the label on my badge that says I played drums in the second band, and you can see my brand spankin' new Wil-Wheaton-gave-it-to-me-himself Rock Band t-shirt! :D


This is the picture I ended up giving to - and signing for - Wil.

----

And.... of course.... the pieces de resistance.

I MET FELICIA DAY! (and did not smell her hair)


AND I MET WIL FUCKING WHEATON!!! 8D And just look how happy he is with one of his most awesome fans EVER!! He knows I'm awesome.

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Oh, and you know how "If there aren't any photos, then it didn't happen." Well, "If there are any videos, then HOLY SHIT IT TOTALLY HAPPENED!!!" Cuz seriously, pshawr, anyone could photoshop a photo. XP




That's. Right. That is me on the drums. And I was the one who had to make Wil sing this song. I'm such a BAMF. xP

Phoenix Comicon: Part 4 -- Saturday Evening - or how I went to Prom with Spock!

The wait for Geek Prom was similar to that of Rock Band -- though the basic line situation was much more figured out, the convention staff still didn’t quite know what was going on, still didn’t communicate with one another, shifting the line here and there. They assured us that those of us who had tickets would definitely be going inside, and that being first in line wasn’t all that much of an advantage, but we were hard to persuade. The line for those-with-tickets ended up outside the doors to the lobby of the ballrooms, and I took a moment to run to the bathroom and to the car to drop off my purse and get a 5 hour energy. On my way out, I noticed a guy being led down the escalator from the Atrium, in handcuffs, forced ahead on either side by some security guards. I didn’t think much of it, just curious what had happened, and continued on my quest for caffeine and load-lightening.

When I came back, there was a weird terseness to the air. I approached Tanya, who looked at me in a wide-eyed expression I couldn’t exactly recognize.

“You’ll never believe what just happened.”

“What??” I asked, smiling expectedly. I half-thought she would say something like “William Shatner just walked in, unannounced, and accompanied by a choir singing a bebop version of Hallelujah, true story!”

She frowned angrily. “You better not be smiling! It was terrifying!”

My smile vanished, and I looked at the other people around her. What? I didn’t know. I’d only gotten there. Why shouldn’t I automatically assume good news, not bad? I felt a little embarrassed and awkward.

“So, what happened?” I questioned.

“This guy came in and just flipped out! They tried to restrain him, and he was all ‘Let me go! Let me go!’ It was scary!”

I remembered the guy being led down the escalator, and I did an internal facepalm.

What kind of moron security personnel brings someone obviously disturbed and in handcuffs into the middle of a huge gathering like a frenzied line of nerds waiting for something?? I don’t care if that was where the security office was, it was a stupid move on their part... I was grateful no one got hurt, although honestly, if shit had gone down, I would not have been surprised if there had been at least one black-belt anime geek in the throng who could have put an end to things easily.

The rest of the wait was pretty much noneventful. The line of ticket holders moved closer to the door (there was a line of people in a kind of ticket waitlist, too -- they didn’t save any, or very many, for the door, when they should have, since they’d advertised “tickets will be sold at door”) I got to talking to this girl dressed as Spock, who was from Tucson, and another Comic Book Guy, also from Tucson. We talked about many random things, the only one of which I remember was computers and my awful luck with them. When I mentioned my Gateway computer, the Comic Book Guy snorted. “Well, yeah. Um, GATEWAY!” I told him it was the most reliable of my computers, honestly, and I would still have it if my boyfriend hadn’t clumsily dropped a bunch of textbooks on it.

I thought of my boyfriend. I thought it would have been awesome for him to have been there, to dance together, to get a picture under the Geek Prom Arch (Pacman style, oh yeah), but at the same time, I wasn’t sure he would have enjoyed it. He’s not much for these kind of events (although, being geek-related, he probably would’ve enjoyed it far more than other dances I’ve forced him to). I also was okay not hearing him arguing computers with the geeks around me -- it would’ve gotten bad. He’s very opinionated on the subject, with good reason. But these guys, they were very opinionated too. Shit would have gone down, and I don’t like conflict....

Finally, at long last, tickets were handed over, IDs were held out and wristbands or marker markings given accordingly (oh yeah, there was a bar -- awesome prom, even though I didn’t imbibe), and we entered the ballroom, the same one from the previous night. The same stage, but a new setup on it. The chairs that had made up an audience were now situated at the far perimeters of the room, and people had already begun to seat themselves. Near the door was a table catered with desserts and popcorn, along with another table with cups and big kegs of water, that was almost always out of water (ah, prom). I made my way close to the stage, brimming with excitement, my new friend Spock aside me, Tanya disappearing into the chairs. I looked around and grinned.

“It would be so funny,” I laughed, “if we ended up with boys sitting at one side, girls on the other, and no one dancing. Totally befitting a Geek Prom.”

This didn’t come to pass. As the Master of Ceremonies (who’s name or identity I don’t remember, but I’m pretty sure he was famous) and the spokesperson for the charity came out and introduced the first band, a local teen band named No Big Deal, we got into the groove, and danced. I don’t remember if they did any original songs, but their covers were fantastic. I specifically remember them singing “In The Middle” by Jimmy Eat World.

And sitting? That was for quitters. I danced. I danced like crazy, surrounded by geeks who danced like crazy. We danced as stupidly as we could, on purpose, because, seriously, who dances well at Geek Prom?? Spock and I did the whole V-in-front-of-the-eyes move, but with the Live Long and Prosper gesture. We did the swim. We did the YMCA. I did the Macarena even though they never played the Macarena. I danced the way my ex-boyfriend had at Winter Formal, just to make fun of him, to kind of get back at him for ditching me before prom.

At some point, I sought out Tanya, and found her sitting out in the chairs in the corner (hilariously enough, beside the girl who woke me up to Star Wars). She was unhappy. She had told me she hadn’t had any intention to go to Geek Prom, and that she was really only there because I’d bought her a ticket.

“Just the word “prom” brings up bad memories for me,” she told me.

I recognized the look in her eye. It was the external portrayal of an internal scar, much like the ones I had of forgotten birthdays and friendship betrayals.

“I had a bad prom, too,” I told her, thinking of the night. The music had been good. The decorations had been good. But I’d spent the entire time crying, since my ex-boyfriend had decided the day before that he did not want to go, not even giving me the opportunity to get a pity date out of one of my guy friends. But I could tell maybe her hurt went deeper than mine. I turned to her, and put on a grin. “Come on! This is supposed to be our night! This isn’t just any prom -- in fact, throw out that word! Let’s not use the P-word! This is just a social geeky gathering that happens to include dancing and desserts! And I guarantee almost every one of us in here either had a bad P-word experience, or no P-word experience at all. This is our night, to be ourselves, to be geek, and to have fun!”

I don’t think she was completely persuaded by my talk, but I was determined to make her smile and enjoy herself. And she tried her darnedest not to smile as I tried my best to make her. I put on the Birdman face, failing the first time thanks to my glasses, and succeeding the second time, after removing them. “Birdman is prejudiced against glasses,” I said aloud to myself, in annoyance.

I don’t know if this made her smile - I think it did. I know for a fact I eventually did something to make her smile, if not laugh, before I ran off to dance more. And I do know that by the end of the night, she was much happier than when she walked in. I felt proud of myself. I made someone feel better, not worse.

I went back to dancing, house right of the stage, with Spock and Danielle. At one point, the band ended one song, and one of them turned to the mic.

“Hey! We prepared this song just for you guys!”

They take a moment to situate themselves, count off, and then, a blaring guitar note.

And we all glance at one another, eyes wide.

No way... it couldn’t be...

A drum beat. More guitar.

No fricken way.... could it.... is it...?

“I wanna be the very best--”

We all break into a squealing torrent of fangasm. It was perfect for us, the majority of us, those 20-somethings of us who grew up on the show. We danced like maniacs and screamed the words to one another.

“--like no one ever was!
To catch them is my real test
To train them is my cause!!!
I will travel across the land
Searching far and wide
Teach Pokemon to understand
THE POWER THAT’S INSIDE!!!
POKEMON!!!
Gotta catch them all--it’s you and me!
I know it’s my DESTINY! POKEMON!
Oooooh you’re my best friend!
In a world we must DEFEND!” At this point, we stood back to back Team Rocket-style, pulling tough guy poses.
“POKEMON!! Gotta catch em all- oh so true!
Our courage will pull us through!
You teach me and I teach you
POOOOOKKKKEEEEEEMOOOOOOON!!!!
GOTTA CATCH ‘EM ALL!!!”

I honestly can’t remember if they ended it there, or did the proper thing and continued, because there IS more to the song than what was in the opening for the show....

....yes, I’m a geek and I own two copies of the Pokemon 2. B. A Master album SHUTUP I WAS TEN WHEN THAT CAME OUT AND THEN I LOST MY COPY AND HAD TO GET A NEW ONE AND THEN FOUND THE OLD ONE AND WHY ARE YOU JUDGING ME?!?!

Ahem, anyways....

Not long after that, the band finished playing, and we applauded them loudly and feverishly, for being appropriately geeky with their song selections, with their appearance, everything. Hell, they even had guitars modeled after Rock Band guitars! Such win. Perfect for Geek Prom.

After they cleared the stage, Wil Wheaton and Felicia Day showed up, and talked a little about why they were there, why this was going on, and they both admitted to us that they honestly never went to prom themselves. I was floored. Their first prom was Geek Prom? I had to admit, I was pretty jealous, but very proud to be part of the experience.

After some more words I don’t for the life of me remember, they cleared the stage, and pop music began playing over the loud speakers as the band broke down their set, so another one could set up. We danced to more appropriately geeky songs. I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t care if I had stitches in my side or that I was thirsty or any of it. I spent as much time on the floor dancing.

And then.

Lady Gaga played.

Not just any Lady Gaga selection, mind you.

It was “Bad Romance.”

Here’s a fun fact! My roommate (okay, former roommate - it’s just weird to refer to her as such) is a huge Lady Gaga fan (otherwise known as a “Little Monster”). And she not only knows the “Bad Romance” music video dance by heart, but ended up teaching it to me and some of my other friends so we could shoot our own music video of it. Although honestly, I didn’t need much teaching -- I had seen her do it so many times that I had it pretty much down.

So, I’m at geek prom, where everyone is dancing and having a grand ol’ time, when Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” comes on.

So naturally, I would do what anyone with a roommate like mine would do.

I effing danced that dance.

...but no one else did. I looked around and everyone was just.... dancing.... as they would to any other song.

Clearly they did not have roommates like mine.

I resigned myself to being the only one who knew it, and just enjoyed it. It was kinda cool, you know? Even if no one really understood why I was dancing so weird...

But then, we get through the first half of the song, and it falls into the “Walk, walk, fashion baby, work it, move that bitch crazy” segment... and this guy jumps up on the catwalk. Not just any guy, but a kinda chubbier appropriately flaming guy. He starts doing his little turn on the catwalk in time to the music, pulling off his jacket and getting into it. I clap for him, and squeal, but in the back of my mind, there was a little tickling voice, once again.

Maybe he’ll manage to stay up there, it says.

Maybe he wont get kicked off, even though you know he should....

Maybe he’ll know the moves....

And maybe...

I hold my breath through the whole “I want your love and I want your revenge” part -- it’s a long portion of the song. I wait... and wait... Lady Gaga sings in French... and he lipsyncs them perfectly.

He knows the French. How can he not know the moves? He has to!

I don’t want to be friiiiiends.... want your bad romance....

Want your bad romance!

There’s not even a moment’s hesitation. I knew this was my chance. I knew that he knew it. I knew it would work. I leaped up on the stage, another girl leaping up from the other side, and we do the dance, together. (The other girl realized she didn’t know it as well as she thought, and ditched out, leaving just me and the first guy, who, I might point out, was off by at least one beat).

And we danced til the end.

On stage.

In. Front. Of. Everyone.

In fact, Wil and Felicia may even have been behind the stage, watching.

But I could only think of the following things as it was happening

1) Oh my god why isn’t my roommate here? This is practically her dream, and I’m living it out.
2) Oh my god. They’re going to kick us out, aren’t they? I just know it. We’re going to finish and there will be security guards there to grab us and chuck us. I know it.
3) You know what? Screw them -- I’m kicking ass here!
4) Why isn’t my roommate here?!

We finished to the sounds of a roaring crowd and a very official-sounding voice over the loudspeaker. His words are warbled and foreign, but I assumed he was telling us to get the hell off the stage and don’t come near it again. I jumped down and stumble, my friends, both new and old, cheering for me and telling me I’m both crazy and awesome. I was shaking. I was amazed at myself. And I grinned from ear to ear, and after a moment, ran out the door, whipping out my phone. I didn’t care that it was past 11pm -- I had to call my roomma-- er, former roommate.

“Why aren’t you here?!” I demanded in a squeak after securing knowledge that I didn’t wake her. “I just danced Lady Gaga in front of hundreds of people and you weren’t here!!! I’m not allowed to do the things you want to do! It’s not fair! Why aren’t you here?! I miss you!!!”

And it was the truth... I could only imagine how insanely epic it would have been if Alyssa (who no doubt would have shown up to Geek Prom as Gaga ANYWAY), and my friend Eric, in his gorilla suit, had been on stage with us....

And Rock Band, too. I’d learned to play Rock Band with those two. I had missed them while onstage the night before (although Alyssa most likely would have sang, which meant no Wil Bon Jovi, but STILL!).

(I had tried very hard over the months to convince at least my roommate to come to PhxCC with me, but she was moving out of our apartment that weekend -- I’d moved out earlier in the week).

We talked a little more over the phone, gradually talking about simpler things like moving out and her trip home and how her cat was and how awesome con was for me, basically allowing me time to get the edge off and calm down from my strange lapse in judgement into awesome. I didn’t want to be gone from the prom too long, so I bid goodbye and ran back in, feeling like a superstar.

I made my way back to where my friends Danielle and Spock (okay, this was what I was calling her, but her real name was Catherine) were dancing. More songs to dance to. YMCA. The Cupid Shuffle.

Then, at one point, Danielle grabbed my attention, and pointed it behind us.

I paused in my dancing, and gaped.

Somehow, Felicia Day and John Scalzi and Aaron Davis had appeared. On the dance floor. Dancing!!

I couldn’t believe that they had actually decided to dance among us, the fans. I kept trying to move closer, be part of the crowd that surrounded them, to just dance next to Felicia Day, cuz seriously -- come on! FELICIA DAY!!!

And not just Felicia Day.... well, and John Scalzi and Aaron Davis...

At some point, a flash of dark and denim, and Wil Wheaton leapt into the fold, and danced his brains out next to them.

Danielle and I push our way gently past John Scalzi to Wil’s side, grinning as we danced together close to him. It felt like we were now part of the coolest club -- the geek club!

As we danced, there were tons of flashbulbs igniting -- tons. You could see their faces, especially Felicia’s, grow more and more stern and less and less “I’m having fun.” Finally, Felicia frowned completely, and kinda turned, shouting something I couldn’t hear at the others but I correctly assumed was something along the lines of “Come on, guys! Stop with the photos and DANCE!”

It really was douchey of them, I thought. There were so many. Imagine this as a bulls-eye -- in the center danced Felicia, Wil, John, and Aaron. Around them, a small ring of people like me, who simply wanted to dance near their idols and have fun, because honestly, what are the chances of it ever happening again? And then, around us, an ENORMOUS RING of people with flash photography and video cameras, swinging them around and into their faces. (Beyond that were random scraggles of people who either didn’t know that these famous people were there, just didn’t care, or didn’t want to be a part of the paparazzi insanity.

But apart from the pictures, it was a blast. It was so fun to see them dancing - especially Wil. He REALLY got into it, especially when a song came on “Just for him.” He danced like a maniac, twisting and waving his arms and being every bit as geeky as the rest of us. He bumped into me a few times... just saying....

After awhile, the dancing finished. They were called up onstage, where they were to announce the Geek Prom Royalty. They had everyone “In proper costume” do a turn on the catwalk while they commentated, and I debated, so long, about going up. Did a cape count as a costume? I felt like a hack. In the end, I decided to do it, because honestly, when do you get to? But this time it was a little against my better judgement. I reprised Lady Gaga, and I felt lame for doing so. I just didn’t know what else to do. When I jumped off, though, Danielle, at least, was smiling and clapping. “I was hoping you’d do it!” she told me happily. “I would’ve hated you if you hadn’t!”

“I almost didn’t... I mean, it’s not like I’ll win...” I told her. She told me not to be so sure, but I was right. The winners were Princess Chess Girl, Prince Sheldon Cooper, and Prom King and Queen Matching Sock Nerds. It was amazing, and we all cheered and clapped. The famous people disappeared with the royalty winners, to take pictures under the arch.

After that, a new band mounted the stage - a loud heavy metal band I didn’t really care for. I stepped out of the ballroom to catch my breath, get some water, and save my ears. They were ringing, and I probably smelled of sweat from dancing. I looked around at the others who were milling about. People were still getting their pictures taken under the arch (I wanted to get one with Spock, but lost her before I had the chance). Groups of people from both Geek Prom and the neighboring Anime Rave stood around the lobby, talking. Convention members were signing people up for Rock Band, which would happen later that evening. I hung around Danielle, who was playing doorman and making sure only those with the markings or the bracelets were let in.

Danielle was lucky. I mean, I had my round of luck, but she had gotten some of her own. At some point during the night, she had been at the door, doing her job, when Wil walked by. He stopped, and held his arm out for her, to help her in. She hesitated a moment, looked at her supervisor who gave her the okay (“She told me she would have killed me if I hadn’t,” Danielle said to me later with twinkles in her eyes), and Wil Wheaton effing escorted her into the dance hall, like a princess. Not gonna lie, I wanted the same to happen... and that may have been an ulterior motive for me idling by the door, aside from hanging out with my new friend. (I’m a geek....)

After a long time, though, I decided to go sign up for that night’s round of Rock Band. However, I found out that not only did it cost money this time, but unlike advertised, it was in no way “Celebrity.” It turned out that after the royalty crowning and subsequent picture taking, the celebrity in question had all left for the night. I was a little disappointed - I mean, it felt like no time at all they had been there before leaving... and they hadn’t even said good-bye to us all...

We stuck around long enough for Tanya to try and win some free stuff in a raffle. After hanging out with Danielle awhile longer, I went and sat in the lobby, surrounded by other con-goers, many still in costume and grouped together. I pulled out my phone. At the time, I wondered if the reason Wil and Felicia and them had left was because of all the paparrazzi bullshit that had happened earlier - I knew it really irritated them, and I felt bad. I went to twidroid, and tweeted to Felicia and Wil.



(Note: I figured out after the fact that they left because that was how long they were supposed to stick around Geek Prom. They left to go have a fun time by themselves, away from the fans. They were all friends -- what friends don’t want to hang out by themselves?)

Five minutes after sending my tweets, I checked twidroid again.... and I found this....


....wut....?

....She.... responded... to my tweet??

....they actually do that????? Famously awesome people with millions of subscribers actually read @replies.... and actually @reply back?!?!

Well, of course they did. I always knew this.

But.... they actually @reply back to ME?!

If I had the physically ability to let my jaw drop ten feet to the floor, I would’ve let it.

Of course, I ran to my friends and showed them, brimming with excitement. It was yet another thing on the list of my personal lifetime achievements that I was able to cross off thanks to Comicon.

Finally, it was time for us to go. That night we were staying a cheaper Super 8 motel about a mile and half down the road. We walked to the garage that held my car.... to find the entrance locked up tight.

Uh oh.

Before panic could set in, I saw a sign saying something to the extent of “Car trapped in here? Call security.” So I did. My good luck prevailed, and in less than twenty minutes time, I had my car, and we busted on out of there (not even a ticket, wewt!) and checked in to the other hotel. I took a shower, and crawled into bed, but was completely unable to sleep because Tanya insisted on keeping the light on while she did stuff on her computer. (I am so light-sensitive at night that I will often put post-it notes over little lights on my electronics).

As I lay in bed, staring at the illuminated ceiling, I found myself feeling considerably less awesome than I had only an hour or two before.

There was a voice nagging me -- a different one from the one that had been accompanying me the last two days, but one that I knew much better.

why did you do that dance again, huh? you’re so lame. that was the lamest thing you could ever have done. people are laughing at you. don’t even start thinking people like wil and felicia, or even catherine and danielle, give a damn about you. you’re just a blip to them. a non-presence. they’ll never remember you again. you’re a loser to them just like you’ve been to every other friend you’ve ever had the last four years. you’re so lame.

“Would you just shut up?” I spat at that stupid little voice I knew so well: the voice of self-doubt, my normally ever-present companion. “Seriously, what are you doing here? Why did you have to catch up to us? Why couldn’t you have just stayed at home and away from me?”

It merely laughed, a small but spine-crushing giggle of spite. I groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over my head. I remained wide awake, with it tormenting me all the while, until the moment Tanya finally put out the light and I could fall into the silencing throes of sleep.

Phoenix Comicon Part 1: The Beginning

This weekend was Phoenix Comicon.

It was also, coincidentally, the best weekend of my life.

You have no idea how honest I’m being here.

It was an act of fate, I think, that I did end up going. I’d been going back and forth on it for months, not sure if I could go, based on my financial situation. Fortunately, tickets were only thirty bucks for the whole thing, and my cousin offered to pay for a hotel room for Friday night, for Wil Wheaton’s rock band thing, as a graduation gift. How could I refuse that? It’s not like I don’t own two of his books, two of his audiobooks, and all of his Radio Free Burrito podcasts...

I was also not sure if I could handle going, based on my mental health situation. Four years at a terrible school had shattered my self-esteem and confidence. The idea of spending time around a bunch of strangers, largely on my own, was terrifying. I’ve had shitty time enough making friends and not making a fool of myself everywhere I’ve gone -- class trip to Europe, college, work.... I expected it to all be same-old-same-old, and I had a panic attack a night or two before con started. My childhood friend Tanya, who was hitching a ride on my hotel ticket, told me not to worry, that I would bond with people over our mutual love of Wil Wheaton, of the Guild, and other things nerdy. I was still skeptical, but knew this was my chance, and so, I went for it.

===FRIDAY===

Friday morning, Tanya and I drove the two hours to Phoenix. We parked, obtained badges fairly quickly, and the moment the exhibit hall opened at noon, I made my way through the bustling sea of Comic Book Guys and cosplayers to the farthest right side of the hall, where I knew Wil Wheaton’s table would be. I wasn’t sure I was ready to face him, yet, but I just wanted to see him, in person. Maybe walk past a few times to be absolutely sure I wouldn’t lose my shit when I finally did meet him.

I patted my red Build-A-Bear shoulderbag every five seconds, convinced gnomes were going to steal its contents, or bustling crowd movement would jar it and cause damage to the secrets within. I didn't want anything to happen to it. There was something very important in there for Wil. Something I knew he would like. Something that I knew I had to create the moment I came up with it. John Scalzi, who had gone through a similar creative process when he created the famed Velvet Wesley, described such a moment as an "epiphany," with the word emphasized by springing up onto the balls of his feet. This epiphany (springy-foot) had come from nowhere, as epiphanies tend to, and I went ahead and acted on it. And the result now hid in my bag, lying in wait, ready for its chance to be unleashed on poor, unsuspecting Wil Wheaton. But again, I was doubtful I was ready...

I rounded corners, weaving my way past forests of booths laden with stuff that just did not interest me one bit. I took my time, my geek jitters at such a frequency that I was sure the slightest fandom provocation would make my skin crack and shatter from the force of my fangirl squeal. I rounded one last corner, making my way down past a military line of tables, bare, gray, cold, and ruthless with the absence of any of the celebrities that should have accompanied them, according to the signs above. LeVar Burton. Jonathan Frakes. Aaron Davis. ...and Wil... Fucking...Wheaton....

...was not there. His table was empty, no sign of life, neither headshot nor book. My shoulders sagged, and a dejected yar left my throat. He wasn't there? But he had books to sell. He had fans to see. ...he had gifts to receive... I patted my red bag protectively, not sure what to do. Maybe return in a little bit? Wander the rest of the hall and see what else the con had to offer? He would be here soon... I knew it...

I looked away from his table, only to realize there was a small assembly of people not a yard away from his assigned place. Eyes travelled up. Recognition registered. A hand snapped to my mouth to silence the geek squeal and the subsequent skin-shattering that would have resulted... and to keep people from staring.

It was Felicia Day. In all her redheaded witty perfect geek queen glory. Right. There. Adjacent to Wil's spot.

I staggered around, reassuring the line patrol people that I was just observing a little and not trying to sneak into line, trying to contain the new explosion of jittery excitement in my veins. I sunk into the far corner, unable to believe my eyes. I'd never really met anyone famous before.... okay, Jeph Jacques is extraordinarily famous, but not recognizably so... but Felicia... after much consideration, I moved towards the line, only to be apprehended and pointed towards the nearby door. ...the line was already out the back door into the hot desert sun outside... I teetered on my heels, glancing around. What should I do? It would be a way to wait for Wil, but....

I glanced at Felicia, and then back towards Wil’s vacant spot.

My mouth fell open in total disbelief.

It was Wil Wheaton.

He'd just appeared in the empty space behind his table, out of nowhere, like he’d just Apparated straight from his hotel. I nearly cried out, I was so startled. I walked past, just to be sure. It definitely was him, setting down his backpack, wearing a Wootstock shirt, gripping the handle to a rolly cart full of books and other consumer goods for him to autograph.

I swallow hard. Felicia, or Wil? I mean, I had to do both -- I HAD to... but which one first?

Somehow, I learned that the line out the door was there for both of them. You could go see Felicia, and then go see Wil. So I charged out the door and to the line awaiting me outside. Some people called it long, turning around with a huff back to the air conditioning of the convention center, but after San Diego, I knew it was nothing. Honestly, I’d seen longer lines to get food at my old high school. (Okay, maybe not...)

I waited... and waited... I don't know if I ever got bored. I most likely preoccupied myself on my droid phone, listening in on conversations, enjoying the fact that we were on the north side of the building so we got shade from the harsh Phoenix elements. Beside me stood the parents of some entertaining kids playing before us. The two of them held copies of Just a Geek and Dancing Barefoot... I glared jealously at the latter. I still glare even now. I don't have that book yet... and it’s such an old book that Wil doesn’t bring any with him to cons anymore.

I turn my attention away, the line slowly edging forward. I ponder my present, reaching into my bag to make sure it’s still there. Will he like it? What will his reaction be? Is it perfect? Should I maybe shoot a short video of it, because I added onto it since I took the last one? (The answer here? YES! FUCKING YES! WHY DIDN'T YOU, NITWIT?! Sorry, that was current me being angry at former me. This will happen frequently.) I think about the video I took the night before, while creating it. Should I maybe take a video of it when I give it to him? ….oh my god, that would be so rad… would that be okay with him? …but how to? I only have so many hands… and my cell phone camera isn’t the best and…

It dawns on me. Oh no. I don’t have a very good camera for taking pictures. Pictures of me! With my idols! With the geeky icons of icons!!

But Tanya did.

I realize with horror at just how short the line has suddenly gotten for me, turning to the phone that was probably already in my hands, and desperately send a stream of messages to my longtime friend, who I knew was in a panel. I check the clock, I fidget with nerves and concern. Another group of three go back into the hall, moving us closer to the front.

It was going to happen, wasn’t it? It would totally figure that I would reach Felicia before Tanya gets there, that I wont get to have a picture taken… and what to get her to sign?! Ugh! I didn’t have Dr. Horrible with me! Why didn’t I think this through?!

The amazing thing? The bad luck that has lingered in my life for years, destroying computers and causing many problems and regrets, left me alone. The line control guy finally waved for a group of four to come in, and just as I enter, and twist my ankles in the direction of Felicia’s pale but smilingly beautiful face, my phone rings in my hand. I manage to explain to Tanya how to reach me as the line control guy gets visibly irritated as he tries to direct me. I make my stand as a member of the Felicia Day line.

When Tanya reaches me, only one person stood in line between me and the brains behind The Guild. Those familiar nerves jerked into brilliant life beneath my skin again… oh god, it was going to happen. I was going to geek out, wasn’t I? Forget to talk, lose my cool… I would. I just knew it. I mean, how do you even greet someone as awesome as Felicia Day??

Turns out, you say “Hi,” and she says “What’s up?!” and then you respond “Oh, you know, not much. Just hanging out at con, meeting my idols.” Then she’ll compliment your shirt, and you will thank her while secretly wondering why she would compliment the Yoda t-shirt you’d gotten from Hot Topic six years ago. But you’ll feel relieved, your wobbly geek nerves completely silenced. Turns out… she was just normal. A geek, like everyone else in that room. Someone like your theater major roommate. Someone with an idea that worked out. Not really any better than the rest of us, just someone who worked hard and had it pay off.

For me, the rest of the encounter is a bit of a blur. I know I said she was awesome. I know I bought The Guild Season 3 and asked her to sign it, and pointed out that I could get Wil’s autograph on it, too, since it was the season he’d been in.

“Oh yeah!” she laughed as she pulled the cover from its plastic casing, uncapping a silver sharpie. “That’s right, Wil’s here!” Yes he was, and I was going to him next.

I took a picture with her, sincerely thanked her with everything I could for her awesomeness, told her how excited I was for season 4, and stepped away, into the line for Wil. I immediately shoved my phone into Tanya’s hands, begging her to please record me and Wil, quickly explaining to her how to operate my phone and praying she didn’t screw it up. I dip my hand into my bag, feeling for my gift. Its silky plastic is hard to mistake against the grooves of my fingerprints, and I carefully pull it out and into my arms, hiding it as stealthily as I could behind my copy of Just a Geek and The Guild Season 03. Didn’t want to ruin the surprise….

I’d rehearsed it over and over in my head… I knew how I would present my gift to him. I knew what I would say, how I would move. But his reaction, I didn’t know…. Would he laugh? Would he be completely flabbergasted? Would he love it? Or would he just be all like “WTF?”

Turns out, it was all of the above.

First was “WTF?” when we asked if it was okay for us to record the encounter. He seemed very unsure, probably wary that we would try and pull some kind of douchey shenanigans that would end up on youtube, but we reassured him that it was totally worth it. He gave the okay, Tanya rolled the digital equivalent of tape, and I sprang into action.

“I brought some sour cream for your burrito,” I announce, whipping my hand around and setting a sour cream container in front of him, heavily decorated with blue permanent marker.

There was a moment of perplexity, a delay as his brain connected the dots. When all the dots had connected to create the big picture, he burst into laughter, loud and boisterous, as hard and full as any I’d emitted while listening to his podcasts and audiobooks.

“That is awesome!” he declares, picking up the container - one I had lifted without permission from my mother’s tupperware cabinet. The “Shamrock Farms” branding, an Arizona company, was crossed out and altered every place I could think of. The cow logos bore a Starfleet uniform (“Poorly drawn Starfleet bovine uniform” I wrote apologetically beside it), a kilt (“I wonder what’s under THIS kilt.” (answer: udders)), and a cow spotted with binary code and nerd glasses. Two cows holding tacos looked unhappy with their entrees, and demanded to know “Where’s My Burrito?”, a Simpson’s quote that had inspired the title for both Wil’s original blog and his subsequent podcast, Radio Free Burrito.

Radio Free Burrito is a sporadically-updated podcast that he does for fun on his own time. He reads excerpts from his books, relates stories of recent adventures in his life, shares fun music and hilarious old commercial spots, and at the end of every show, he takes a moment to thank all of those who have donated to the continuation of the podcast, an action referred to as “feeding the burrito.”

In one of his more recent episodes, he’d mentioned that someone had fed the burrito in person. That had implanted itself in my head, and as a result, this sour cream container was now in his hand.

Very little of the surface of the plastic was left untouched, a whole mosaic of words and phrases that directly relates to him, his writing, his podcasts, the things he has shared with me and the rest of the world. Wil rolls the container around gingerly in his hands, his expression shifting with each nerdy reference, each permanently written or drawn item, reading them aloud as he went. “Shameless Fangirliness... Scottish...? Fawkes!” he shouted happily, pointing to one of the “Farms” in “Shamrock Farms” that had been crossed out and changed, like proofread homework. He shook his head incredulously as he read more things. “ ‘Great for Podcasts’… ‘generous helping for great burritos’ This is great!” I tell him to check the bottom. He turns it over. “ ‘WiL’s SouR CReAm’ ” he reads from the childlike handwriting. His eyes light up and his pace quickens as he realizes what’s coming, falling back in his seat in amazement as he quotes his own childhood words, this time on the underside of a sour cream container rather than his old toy land speeder. “ ‘KePp YoU HaNs oF It o ELS!!’ You’re AWESOME!!! “

Now, pause a moment here, and realize what is just going down. Here is Wil Fucking Wheaton, someone who has inspired me and profoundly influenced me over the last five months, completely freaking out over what is essentially just a plastic sour cream container that I had laboriously and not-entirely-thoughtfully decorated with permanent marker. And he hadn’t even gotten to the best part, yet.

I tell him to open it, and he obliged swiftly, pulling the cover off in one quick movement. He notices little folded-up pieces of paper inside – “Dude!” he gasps, shoulders hunched like a kid a Christmas, sticking his fingers in. “Look at it- it’s little presents! It’s—oh my god, look, it’s PI!” His voice cracks a little as he holds out the first little package out for his assistant to see, his eyes still twinkling like a child as he points out the pie I had drawn on it, with the symbol for pi on it, with a piece missing. He opens it up as I explain to him that all of the presents inside are “Geeky denominations of money” - in this case, $3.14.

“It’s all folded up and everything!” he squeals. “Thi-this is great.” His head shakes in further disbelief as he carefully refolds the paper back around the bundle of money.

“Check out the ‘Less than Three’,” I advise him, grinning broadly, proudly.

“There’s a less than three?!” He pulls out the next one, turns to find the message and make sure he has the right one, and exhales incredulously at the way the envelope is folded. “Dude, how do you remember how to do all these awesome envelope folds?”

“Google,” I admit honestly.

“You did these in school, though, right? I mean, we always did the folding, um, the, you know, who you’re gonna date things….” He makes kind of a pinching-then-stretching motion with his hands, which I immediately and warmly recognize that as the fortune teller/cootie catcher hand motion, sans the paper apparatus. I tell him I know what he means, as he hungrily unfolds the envelope. I pause for his reaction, grinning mischievously, knowing what’s to come.

“Oh, get OUT!” he gasps as he pulls out an intricate heart created from a dollar with a quarter in the middle (the heart, for those of you not savvy enough, is what <3 src="file:///Users/Megan/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/moz-screenshot.png" alt="">