Samantha: Seen in the queue line for John Barrowman's panel at about 10:30 a.m., April 14th, 2012
She’d spent hours getting ready this morning, tucking her hair into a short bob, ironing her dress shirt and pants. She wished her nose were a little straighter, her chest a little flatter. Still, when she looked at herself in the full-length mirror, it all seemed fairly convincing. She practiced flirting with imaginary men, women, aliens.
Now, waiting in the queue, she wonders if John Barrowman gets freaked out when he sees so many people dressed up like him at these things. It must be somewhat jarring at first. But surely he’s used to it. He does conventions all the time. And it’s not like he’s the same person as Captain Jack anyway. She tries to keep reminding herself of that.
She wishes he knew her name. She wishes he’d say it with one of his trademark cheeky smiles: “Samantha.”
Don & Tyler: Seen waiting for the Red Line to Howard at about 4:30 p.m., April 15th, 2012
“I think we could get a better one.”
“I dunno, Dad. This one’s so cool! I like how the pieces come apart.”
“Yeah, but if we find one in a box it’ll have a stand, buddy.”
Tyler sighed and put the toy back on the cluttered table. The greasy-faced old man running the booth glared at Don; luckily, Tyler didn’t notice. “Let’s look over here!”
Tyler dashed through the crowds of people down aisle 300, his head narrowly avoiding their hips.
“Tyler, wait for me!” Don chased after his son and brushed past two girls dressed like characters from Suckerpunch. Over his shoulder he heard one of them sneer, “God, watch where you’re going.”
Don had not been prepared for this torture. In fact, he’d been looking forward to taking his son to C2E2 for months. Tyler was on a mission to find a Carnage action figure, and Don was more of a comics aficionado than he typically let on. He could entertain himself and convince Tyler that he was the best dad in the world at the same time.
But he forgot about the women. All those beautiful, young, costumed women. The curvy Catwomen in slick bodysuits, the busty Wonder Women, the Jabba-the-Hutt-enslaved Princess Leias. Even the androgynous women dressed as male characters were fiercely tempting. The divorce from Tyler’s mother had been ugly. Don had been on a few dates here and there, but they hadn’t amounted to anything. He could barely remember the last time he’d run his hands along a woman’s body, the last time he’d gone to bed with anyone. And now he was bombarded with all these glorious hourglass figures. This convention floor was hell on earth.
When he finally caught up with Tyler, his son had found a different Carnage action figure, this one tied inside a clear plastic bag, suffocating. “I know it doesn’t have a stand, Dad, but all the pieces are there. And it’s bigger than the last one. Can we pleeease get it?”
Don caught sight of a girl dressed as Poison Ivy; his eyes followed one of her long, red curls down into her creamy cleavage. Her face morphed into an expression that was at once angry, disgusted, and nauseous.
“Sure, Ty. I think that one’ll do.”
Oh my, I could have written so many stories about people at C2E2--it was the best people-watching I've experienced in quite some time. But I was a bit preoccupied most of the time with going to panels, making unnecessary purchases, and fangirling. This is me and John Barrowman:
Um, yeah, as you can see he touched me and maybe I freaked out a little and maybe I'm still freaking out a little because I love Doctor Who so much and Captain Jack is so awesome and I'm in love and whatever.
Yeah, that's right. I'm an adult. Anyway, it's back to stories from the CTA tomorrow.