The post-convention blues are real, my friends. They can range from the blah’s, to the blues, to full-on depression. There are some very good reasons for that. In our everyday lives, we may feel marginalized or isolated. There are few people we can connect with about the things that light our fires. We may even live in places hostile to our skin color, gender expression, or sexual orientation. When we go to conventions we find Our People.
I will illustrate why it matters to find Your People in a series of Stock Photo Comics. (I can’t draw so this is my solution). Your People do not side eye you for:
Sexual orientation/gender identity...Particular combo of ethnicity and interests...Or we just found people we could bond with over the stuff that matters to us...Not saying conventions are perfect places where every human being is a rainbow farting unicorn. NOPE NO WAY NOT EVEN A LITTLE. But we do find Our People there. We go from isolated minority to a sea of people who GET us. It makes sense that coming back to our own realities at home can be a jarring experience. So the important questions is: how can you minimize the impact of that loss? Because I want you to be happy, my fangirl/boy/non binary darling!
Integrate your passions into your everyday life. First things first. Are you filling your everyday life with reminders of your passion and joy? If you are, DO IT EVEN MORE.
Think of how you played in your childhood.
The things that matter to us in our fandoms today, flow from the imagination, play, and whimsy of our childhoods. Whether our childhoods were lovely, traumatic, or all points in between, we just got on with doing what we loved. We connected without shame to the things that filled our spirits with joy. That could have been faeries, dragons, spaceships, robots, quests, magic, monsters, it could have been anything. But to a one, our worlds of imagination offered us comfort, solace, hope, inspiration, and freedom. Then we grew up, and became disconnected. FUCK THAT. It’s time to reconnect. Think back to when you were a kid. What did you play? What did you imagine? What did you read? What do you love now that fills you with those same feelings?
Then make a list of those things. That’s your to do list of life, my friends. Take the items on that list and let them inspire you to:
- Start a creative project. That could be designing a cosplay, writing a fanfic, making a piece of art, shooting a video, or recreating props. Some Supernatural fans have literally spent months fixing up Impalas to look like Dean Winchester’s Baby, and then they get to drive around in them every day! Bottom line, be the originator of your own badass life content. It creates a consistent thread in your life of imagination and creation.
- Don’t assume that no one near you can relate. Maybe not in your town or school or home. But check meetup.com, check social media, ask on your own profiles to be connected to folks who live in your vicinity. Visit your local comic book shop and look at the flyers they have up. You never know.
- Organize a local meetup for your community with a theme. Even if they live a few hours away, you might be surprised. They could be feeling the way you are and would welcome a day trip out to you. It can be as simple as a TV-watch party for Buffy with vampire themed drinks. It could be meeting at a local diner in Winchester and bringing your con photo op binders to swap stories. It can be a Wynonna Earp cosplay photoshoot near a dive bar that kinda looks like Shorty’s. I know it can be intimidating to plan events. What if no one shows up? But here’s the thing. What they do and it is fucking amazing? Plus, having it on the calendar will make you feel like you haven’t been dropped off into the deep end.
- Stay connected with your con family through binge watching together on Skype or rabb.it. Lots of folks have remote watch parties. I have not used rabb.it. but I have used Skype and google hangouts. You just say one, two, three, HIT PLAY and then watch together.
- Put fan art or merch everywhere at work or home. Looking at it will reconnect you with the things that matter to you. Whether it’s the love and acceptance of Sense8 or the optimism and sense of possibility in Star Trek, you will always have reminders. You can get mugs, candles, art prints, cutting boards, calendars, the fandom options are endless.
- Be creative with your style. Represent your fandom wherever you go. You can find low key fandom items to wear at work. You can also play with your hairstyle. Hell, tattoos are always an option. Rock it.
- Start planning your next convention. Buying those tickets, planning your photo op poses, or deciding what you want your fave to autograph will give you something to look forward to.
- Bring headphones to work or school if possible. Listen to fandom podcasts, audiobooks, or music associated with the things you love. Even if you are only listening on your commute, that is something.
- Start projects online with your fandom. In fact you can choose a fandom based on its level of activity and creative energy. For example, if you are a Misha Collins fan, you ALWAYS have a project to work on, whether it is doing a bizarre scavenger hunt, raising money for a refugee family, or creating a piece of art with a group.
- Make time for yourself to enjoy your favorite shows/books/movies. Don’t feel guilty for scheduling in time to do that stuff, even if you are a parent. (I’m talking to myself now.)
- Write fan letters or art and send them to the people who are making a difference to you. The time and love you put into that will be time you spend thinking positive thoughts of gratitude.
Make your life better in general.
Sometimes it is MORE jarring to return home because we hate our jobs, our partners are not supportive, or our families look down on us. Tackle those issues according to your level of emotional energy and your financial situation.
- If someone is being actively homophobic or racist at work, report it if possible.
- Start building the groundwork to leave your job, or to move somewhere better.
- If your partner or family belittles your interests, it’s time to have some come to Jesus talks and good healthy boundary setting sessions.
I know this is a whole lot easier said than done because I’ve had to do a whole shitton of it. I have had good therapists help me through it. And the impact on my level of happiness was incredibly positive.
Look ahead to next time.
Prevention is worth a whole lot more than cure. Being exhausted and actually sick with con crud when you get back just compounds the misery.
- Make sure you bring hand sanitizer to the con and wash your hands often while you are there.
- Make sure you eat and take care of yourself at the con.
- If you have anything you swear by like vitamin C or emergen-c, bring it to the con.
- If you DO have the option, make sure you ask for a recovery day off work ahead of time. You will need to rest, and you will thank yourself for the brilliant planning.
Lean into it.
Will having a cry make you feel better? It’s ok to do that! Share your pain with other fans. Let yourself feel it. As long as you are taking care of yourself and you try not to wallow toooooo long, honoring your feelings is a good thing.
Make sure that if you actually have full blown depression that you get treatment from a health care professional.
Know the symptoms of depression. Here is a handy reference list from the Mayo Clinic. https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/depression/symptoms-causes/syc-20356007
If things seem like they are slipping deeper from blue to depressed, get professional medical treatment. When in doubt, get professional medical treatment. (sensing a pattern?) Again, I know this is easier said than done. I say this as someone who has survived 25 years of major depressive disorder, PTSD, and anxiety disorders that have resulted in no fewer than five hospitalizations. Many of those years were spent with no health insurance, which, as an American, sucks donkey balls. I say this only so you know that I get it. I have called upon many different resources in my life – teaching hospitals, local universities, public health departments, free support groups at local nonprofits, I have tried and used it all. When I couldn’t afford it I’d call and tell them. They often came up with ways to help me. The important thing is that you don’t wait for it to get better on its own. I’ve done that and I’ve suffered for it. So I know for a fact that depression compounds upon itself. Depression is terrifying and traumatic, and having a full blown episode itself causes damage. The longer you wait, the worse the long term impact will be on your health.
So. Ask for help. If someone says no they can’t or won’t help, ask someone else. If a treatment doesn’t work, try another one. Keep doing that until you get the treatment that works. It is horrible and unjust that that you have to fight so hard for your own life, but your life is worth fighting for. I have been happy and symptom free for several years and I rate being non depressed a 15/10. I highly recommend.
And keep doing what you love.
In the end, attending conventions is worth the pain of coming back home, especially if you are taking good care of yourself in between cons, making space for joy, and if your life is nice to come home to! If you have any other advice for weathering the post-convention blues, please put it below in the comments!
And as a bonus for reading the entire article, enjoy a picture of babby 19 year old Rebekah after her first fan convention. It was the 1995 Star Trek Grand Slam convention in Pasadena and I was just a tad excited for the first female star ship captain. Can you tell? Once a nerdy feminist, always a nerdy feminist. At the convention, besides asking Kate Mulgrew to sign everything but my face, I got a 'Q' poster (you can see part of it in my hand) signed by the man himself, John de Lancie for my uberfan younger sister Michele. I also remember swooning over Marina Sirtis and Jonathan Frakes in person. (Troi and Riker, my first 'ship). Great memories! I can't wait to go out and make some more. See you at the con!
No matter what industry you are a part of, it can be an absolute bitch to get in. It makes absolutely no sense. People have to work to maintain the economy, and there are people out here that want to work. Yet and still, even entry level jobs want you to have a master's degree, 10 years of experience, and know technology that someone who is beyond entry level would know. People are refusing to take chances on people. It is frustrating and sad.
Marvel Studio’s latest addition, Ant-Man, came out this weekend. If any of you were like me, especially if you were also a Marvel Comics fan, you were pretty much on the fence with this one about whether or not to see it. This film hasn’t had the smoothest production.
The first issue I had when they announced that they were doing an Ant-Man movie was when they announced that Michael Douglas was going to be playing Dr. Hank Pym. There was probably a collective “huh” that escaped from the Marvel Comic fandom. Not that Micheal Douglas isn’t a great actor, but his presence states a certain age for the character that just didn’t make sense. While we were chewing on that for a bit, Marvel Studios announced that Paul Rudd would be playing Scott Lang and be taking the mantle as Ant-Man, not a surprising move since they clearly aged Dr. Pym, but it didn’t really make sense, still. Another shocker wasn’t so much that there wouldn’t be a Wasp character, but no Janet Van Dyne.
Dr. Hank Pym is one of the original Avengers in the comics. While he did fight alongside his fellow Avengers, Pym was a man of science, and not a soldier. There was many a time that Pym refused to go to battle. He was also a man that preferred to talk things out before using his fist. Unfortunately, the majority of Hank Pym’s stories throughout the comics also include if do not involve his wife Janet Van Dyne, also known as the Wasp. If you are going to create a movie and kind of do the basics of Pym’s life, you would think she would have a pretty large presence in the film somewhere. It became pretty clear that newly hired Evangeline Lily would not be Janet, but they didn’t really reveal her as Pym’s daughter until much later.
So yes, this film didn’t have Janet Van Dyne for us, but it was also the storyline of Avengers: Age of Ultron that caused a lot of concern for Ant-Man. Long before the Age of Ultron movie came out in theaters earlier this summer, we were very aware that Dr. Hank Pym would have no involvement. That to a comic book fan like myself was pretty unfathomable. Ultron has always gone hand in hand with Hank Pym and Tony Stark, but mostly Hank Pym. Ultron was originally a creation for peace, but Ultron turned out to be the very epitome of the sin pride. Every good intention of Tony and Hank went into Ultron. Tony built the technology that would make Ultron powerful enough to stop any if not all obstacles and challenges to protect the Earth. Hank made Ultron intelligent and made him think by creating a way to map his own brain and program it into Ultron as its artificial intelligence. They created him to protect the Earth, but forgot to have him protect humanity. Ultron calculated that Earth’s greatest threat was humanity. The point is that the faults Ultron had made it capable for the Avengers to stop him, was that he had Hank Pym’s faults. Pym and Ultron have always been very connected in every variation in the comics, but we were going to have a movie with Ultron and no Hank Pym.
The Ultron storyline for the second Avengers movie is truly the reason why I was concerned with how the Ant-Man movie was going to work, but you know what? It was Avengers: Age of Ultron that really gave me the reason to give it a chance. I got the mind stone aspect of the Ultron story. It made sense, and most importantly didn’t give Tony Stark power than he never had in the comic books. Tony’s a genius, but there are places in the scientific world that he may understand, but can’t compete. Avengers: Age of Ultron not only made me okay enough to chance the Ant-Man movie, but understand that the Marvel Cinematic Universe is very much its own beast.
What you will expect in Ant-Man is hilarity. It isn’t action focused. The origin story is very reminiscent of Iron Man. The first Iron Man movie had a lot more action scenes due to the nature of Tony’s origin, but it’s the same formula. Paul Rudd and Adam McKay took Edgar Wright’s original script and finished it. These are men known for their comedy, and it is in there. Paul Rudd was pretty much is usual sarcastic self, but Michael Peña was killing me in this movie. This is an actor that I consider a chameleon. Peña has terrified me, made me cry, and made me laugh on a variety of occasions. When he does funny, though, this man is funny. He had me crying.
So yes, this was a very different Marvel movie. One that showed its funny bone as opposed its muscles. It was still a story, it introduced both Scott Lang and Dr. Hank Pym and why they needed each other. It was very refreshing, actually. Marvel Comics have always balanced the emotional spectrum very well, and just as some characters may lean in serious or comedic direction, story arcs or issues can do this as well. I like seeing that the films are leaning on that formula as well. This could be considered the worst Marvel movie so far, but if I ever want to fail at something, this is the way I’d do it.
What Ant-Man also did for me was solidify that the Marvel Cinematic Universe is its own, and it will flip, play, and do as it sees fit. There will always be nods to the comics, and in some instances it will follow the heart of the comics if not pull directly from them. This world will do what it wants. It is terrifying, especially when Marvel Studios is gearing up to drop the Civil War story, which clearly has to be very different, since we don’t have many heroes nor any X-Men. It was kind of an all hands on deck storyline. I will just have to wait and see. The other one that terrifies me is the upcoming Captain Marvel movie, because I am a Carol Corps girl. Her character is fantastic to play with. She has been through everything, and is a very serious but fun character. She has so much to offer for a film, but we will just have to wait and see.
Continuing from Afterburn: Prologue
Sarah Meyers had a problem with fire. No, she wasn't afraid of it nor did she tote around matches to satisfy any psychological pyromaniac desires, regardless what her therapist thinks. Sadly, her problem was much crazier than her poor therapist could comprehend. Sometimes, if she was angry or scared enough, things around her tended to catch on fire. Sometimes it just happened to be a small trashcan, but other times it could end up being an entire barn. Outside of the possibility of being delusional, which Sarah doesn't buy, she isn't the typical teenage girl. The barn fire forced her father to move the family to his hometown of Sanctuary, Rhode Island, hoping the family name and history would be strong enough to dampen the actions of his delinquent daughter. Now, Sarah has to start the game all over again. New school, more people to avoid, and try desperately to keep herself from setting anymore fires. Sarah soon finds out that some of the kids are not quite like the rest of the others, either. No, there is an old secret in this town that may provide Sarah with answers, but what she may find could be more terrifying than high school, and that's pretty scary.
“Sanctuary, Rhode Island has been around since the first immigrants and pilgrims came to America,” My mother said as she hung the clothes she just unpacked into my closet. “There’re still a lot of books and artifacts that your grandmother left with the house. Your father always says that the museums have been hounding her for the collection for years. He’d sell them himself if he wasn’t so afraid that your grandmother would come back to haunt him for doing it. They’ll all be yours someday, since she has dictated in her will that they stay with the family.”
I just smiled and nodded, but continued folding clothes and placing them in my dresser. This was my mother’s daily attempt to try not to alienate me. My new therapist, she apparently went to the same school as my former psychiatrist, told them that in anger and confusion over my actions, there comes alienation, a compulsion to separate oneself from the problem. The psychiatrist then promptly assured me that I was not the problem, just my actions, which is why my mother has barely stopped to breathe in the last two hours as she has helped me unpack my room. I already knew that this house, though it should really be called a mansion due to its massive size, used to belong to my grandmother and has been in the family for several generations. My mother was excitedly telling me about my family history, excited, because, for once, she had something to talk to me about and something to occupy her, my room, during today’s anti-alienation attempt. My ancestors, the Brannellys, fled their homeland of Ireland to escape persecution, yadda, yadda, yadda. The family line has always been known for the boys they produce. Rarely is there ever a girl. In fact, my grandmother was the first female in five generations, making myself an anomaly as well. The men in the family, including my father, tend to be enigmatic, but the females seem to take a more recluse route, as with my grandmother, and so shall it most likely be for me. This mansion may one day be my only refuge, just as it was for dear old granny.
I never actually met my grandmother. I always got the impression from my parents that she wasn’t quite sane, something they never seem to forget during my therapy sessions. Dad was obviously left the house after she died six years ago, but was too ambitious in Maryland to ever want to leave. That was, at least, until I set a barn on fire. I think my father is hoping that the names Meyers and Brannelly have enough presence to overshadow my faults, and he and my mother can go about normal lives even with a crazy daughter. If the house is supposed to stay in the family, then that means I’ll always have a home, even if I end up a total recluse. After the barn fire, I don’t see a whole lot of other options for my future. It is a dreaded fate, but being a freak and forced to be a new girl at a new school is far more dreadful.
I had tried to talk my parents into hiring a private tutor, playing the crazy card, but my therapist told them that my obsession with fire has only been a threat to myself. No one has ever been directly a target. Emersion into a scholastic environment will only encourage socialization of some kind and will be a great benefit to my self-esteem. Apparently, my therapist was homeschooled, because high school is never a benefit to anyone’s self-esteem. I am especially not looking forward to school, because my therapist is forcing me to make a friend. I am stuck with choosing the better option of making a friend having them find out that I am either a freak who will possibly endanger them or continue to remind my parents of the failures they are for producing such a child with destructive tendencies.
The key to this decision is that the therapist said she would consider reducing and eventually quitting all medications that I am currently prescribed. The fact that I don’t actually take any of the medications isn’t important. It’s just that my parents also think I take them as well as the school I will be attending. It’s always easier to stay under the radar unmedicated as opposed to medicated, and it will give some peace of mind to my parents.
I cut my mom’s ramblings off when I finished putting away everything in my dresser to ask if I could take a bike ride around town. Most of the time my mother knew that she or my father had to force me out of the house. Since the anti-alienation started, I’ve begun feeling quite smothered, and my only option was to leave the house in search of a secluded, quiet spot. She was all too eager to allow me to leave and even gave me twenty bucks to spend as I liked. I was zipping up my hoodie and about to leave my room when she stopped me.
“Sarah, sweetheart, this is a fresh start for you. Try to make the most of it and find a friend,” she said.
“Sure, Mom. I’ll try,” I replied, forcing a smile.
She walked up to me reaching out to touch my cheek, a ghost of worry hinting within her eyes. “You’ve grown up so much. I hardly remember how little you once were. Mmmm…it’s funny, but you look so much like your grandmother. You should look at her portrait when you get downstairs,” she smiled brightly, hiding her fear. She probably put my grandmother and me together, thinking, just as I had been, of my fate and the possibility of following in my grandmother’s footsteps.
“Too bad I couldn’t look like you, huh? That wouldn’t have been so bad,” I smirked but smiled as my mother gave me a shy smile that reached her golden brown eyes, and withdrew her hand from my face to gently brush her chocolate hair behind her ear. It was a rare and modest moment for my mother that only my father and I ever got to see. She usually spends most of her time as the perfect and glamorous housewife. I think it was tender moments such as these that made my father fall in love with her, probably because it brought the same side out of him.
“Um, thanks again, Mom, for helping me unpack,” I said tugging at the strings of my hood. “And, I really think that I can make a change here.”
“I’m glad to hear that, sweetheart,” she replied. “Have a good time.”
I nodded and made my way downstairs. I stopped in the foyer taking the time to look at my grandmother’s portrait. The plaque beneath it read, “Gabrielle Linette Brannelly Meyers.” A mouthful, I know, but my mother was right about me. I did look like my grandmother. She must have been somewhere in her early forties when this was painted. Her hair was the same deep auburn as mine. The painter even captured the same natural gold highlights I had. I did not, however, have the flipped out haircut that I can only describe as the precursor to the “Farrah” hair phenomenon, a fact that I am most pleased about. Though the hair did match the dark green one shoulder ensemble she wore in the painting, pretty saucy actually. Go Grams, get down with your bad self! There was one major difference between us, my eye color. My grandmother’s eyes were the same shade of green as her outfit, just like my father’s. Mine came from my mother. They were the same chocolate shade as hers, except mine had tiny golden flecks that highlighted them, much the same as the highlights in my hair. Other than that small flaw, I was staring at what I’d look like in my forties, and well, if I was stuck in 1974. That began to creep me out a bit, so I bid adieu to Gram Gabby and headed outside to grab my bike.
Fall was just about to settle on Sanctuary, but the summer warmth still had a lingering grip on the air. I was glad I chose to wear a tank top under my hoodie. The mansion had enough land surrounding it to give it a private and secluded feel. It was going to take me some time to get used to the neighborhood that immediately burst forth as I exited the gate. Our property sat at the end of a lane, easily the largest, but the other houses could never be considered small. I headed up the lane towards Main Street where most of the businesses in Sanctuary resided. Just as I was riding along a brick adorned wall that framed the front of a mansion a few places down, a black, sports convertible, carrying four teens about my age, barreled out of the driveway causing me to break hard and lose my balance, falling to the ground.
“You better watch where you’re going, girl. I could have easily got fifty points for tapping that fine ass of yours!” the blond driver cackled behind his sunglasses. I’ve been ridiculed long enough to know when to pick my battles. As offensive as he was acting, I opted to just ignore him, too concerned with my current state on the ground.
“Nice one, man!” his friend guffawed, the sun gleaming off of the coffee toned skin of his bald head. The guy even stood up, seatbelts apparently eluding him, to get a better look at me as I scrambled to right myself.
There was a well groomed blonde girl sitting in the back behind the gawker that tittered. Yes, she was actually tittering, well poised hand at mouth included. The other passenger in the back was the only one not smiling. Concern seemed to spread across his strong dark features.
“Are you alright?” he asked, brushing a hand back through his long, shaggy hair, while I was attempting to pull debris from my hair. His voice was deep and masculine, stealing my apt attention immediately. Partnered with his celebrity dark looks, it would be hard not to call the guy attractive. They were the same features that got me into my last mess and ended with a barn burning down. The guy did manage to convey a lot more concern in three words, than Paul Stanton ever managed in any of his conversations. That was probably because Paul was lying to me the entire time.
I decided to reply back to the guy since he was trying to be nice. Apparently, the tool in the driver’s seat thought that enough time had been spent and floored the accelerator leaving me hacking at the dust kicked up by the car. Well, the locals were sure friendly.
I found the drugstore easily enough. It was part of the largest building on Main Street next to the grocery store. I locked my bike to railing located in the front of the store and headed in. The inside was a mix of modern and old fashion. The owner seemed to prefer the original feel and touches of the drugstore with the maintained, oak woodwork throughout the space and only conceded to make new changes out of necessity like a small refrigeration and freezer section. I set off for the magazines and books to restock my supply. I may prefer to be antisocial, but I like to stay on top of gossip and pop culture, Movies and books have been my way of staying connected and even allow me to escape from the world that I created for myself. I tend to favor “weird” books or movies, as my father has dubbed them. They sometimes allow me to think that I’m not alone with my burden. The newest novel by my favorite author sat on the shelf beckoning me. It was a “weird” novel of course, but it was excitement for me. I had just picked it up and was reading the back flap when a male voice spoke from right behind my shoulder.
“Ah, the new Beckman, just what I was headed over here for,” the familiar voice said, causing me to jump. I turned around to find the attractive guy from the car. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he smiled apologetically, while he reached for his own copy. “Um, are you alright from earlier? Blair didn’t give you a whole lot of time to answer. He likes to show off, especially with that car.”
The guy could have said more things to me, but I was a little too engrossed in staring into his eyes. They were a startling ice blue color and intense. I had never seen anything like it before. Distracting just didn’t seem like a strong enough word. I had to swallow hard before I answered, “For the most part. Just a little startled.”
“Well that’s good,” he smiled. Yep, this guy was going to be dangerous. “You’re Sarah, right, living in the old Brannelly place? I’m Alton,” he raised his hand out to me.
I took it hesitantly, because I’m not impolite, when what he said before his name sunk in. I snatched my hand back and demanded, “How did you know my name or where I lived?
He smirked clearly amused. “Easy, I’m not some stalker. It’s just the disadvantage of living in a small town. News like the Meyers heir moving back is the juiciest gossip the people of this town have had to chew over for a while,” he said sheepishly, raising his hand to run it through his hair absentmindedly. “Plus, it was outside my house where you almost got ran over. My mom stopped by yesterday to welcome your family to the neighborhood, because we’re neighbors,” he emphasized.
“Well, that’s a relief,” I said, hopefully convincing. I would have been happier if he came off as a creep, easier to ignore. I turned myself back towards the book rack fingering for the last book I wanted. “Damn, no new Calloway novel. I’ll just have to get it online,” I sighed.
“You like Calloway, too?” Alton asked. Yep, he was still there. “I am forever being criticized for reading that kind of stuff, nice to know I’m not alone,” he smiled.
“Not favorites of my parents either. That’s why I usually leave Jane Austen books lying about,” I said as I clutched my merchandise to my chest.
He laughed, “I do the same thing with Hemingway. If you want to get anything remotely decent here, you have to go to the library or as you mentioned buy them online. The library stays pretty well stocked. The librarian is good people and a fan of Calloway.”
“That sounds like a plan, thanks,” I replied. “Nothing sounds better than getting lost in some stacks with a book. Thanks again, Alton. It was nice to meet you.” I began to head towards the front when the warm gentle touch of fingers gently pulled my hand back.
“Look, I can show you where the library is,” Alton offered.
“I’m sure that’s not necessary. It can’t be that hard to find,” I smiled and turned for the register. Alton was fast at my heels.
“It’s cool, really, I have a few things I’ve been meaning to pick up there,” he smiled again as I handed the guy behind the counter a twenty. I should say no. Every instinct in my body told me that I should remember what happened last time. There was just something in his eyes when he smiled at me. Something that compelled me to trust him over everything which is why I nodded him a yes and found myself walking with him out of the store, directly in front of a black sports convertible with three people in it.
“You sure do walk better than you ride a bike,” the arrogant voice of the guy, I now assumed was Blair, rang out from behind the steering. His friends in the car found it just as amusing. This type of guy should be locked away in a zoo, because they have nothing to offer normal civilization. This was the same type of guy that made up most of Paul Stanton’s friends. I just figured out too late that a lot can be said about a guy by who his friends are. Not wanting to show any vulnerability this time, I replied, “I guess? It is what we learn first, so I’m just going to assume you walk better than you drive.”
“You’d be surprised to find out that they’re actually pretty even,” Alton smirked.
Blair didn’t seem to enjoy being made fun of by me, so Alton’s comment really got under his skin. “Always a comedian, huh, Alton? Get in the car. We’re meeting the rest of the gang at Cliff Pointe,” he growled, but kept his gaze on me.
“Nah, man. You go on ahead. I’m heading to the library. I’ll catch up with you later,” Alton said cooly.
“Oh, I see,” Blair replied slowly eyeing me with a smirk.
“Blair, you don’t always have to be an ass. I’ll catch up with you later,” Alton sighed, clearly frustrated.
Blair took this opportunity to start the motor and floored the gas pedal like a predatory growl. Before he began to maneuver the car back on to the road, he said, “Your loss, little cousin. Guess I’ll have to keep Handley warm for you. Unless,” turning to address the girl in the back seat, “You want to go to the library, too?”
This caused the girl, Handley, to grin like the Cheshire Cat. The sun practically beamed off her teeth threatening to blind anyone in the vicinity. “No,” she said, “there wouldn’t be any fun in that. Sorry, Alton.”
I swore I heard Alton mumble “I bet you are” under his breathe.
“Let’s motor, Gilk. I’m hungry!” the behemoth in the passenger seat cried out.
Blair floored the car in reverse before snapping at the guy, “You’re always hungry Terry!” The car took no time disappearing around a corner. I was just glad that this last exit didn’t leave me with more dirt to get out of my hair. I headed for my bike unchaining it and pulling it to my side. I turned to Alton to ask which direction the library was, when he gracefully took my bike from me. He rolled slowly down the sidewalk towards what I hoped would be the library. Once I got my bearings back, I ran to catch up, attempting to smoothly sidle up beside him like I’d been there all along.
Con time has come and gone. I am always left with regret. Regret for not buying tickets for the whole thing, and regret for not going to karaoke. Dammit, regret for not buying my tickets early enough. Lol! I some nosebleed seats. The whole adulting and responsibility thing always puts a damper on fun. There is also sadness, because this really is a blast for me. It’s this big Supernatural family reunion with all your favorite people and fellow fans that just get it.
I still made sure that I had fun, because Sunday was to be a special day for Supernatural fans. Our gracious host Richard Speight Jr. said it best. It was Father’s Day Sunday. That Sunday was to be the first ever appearance by Mr. Jeffrey Dean Morgan (JDM) who played our boys’ father, John Winchester. This was back in the early days of the show at a time when the thought of another ten years of a television show was pretty damn unthinkable. He was the first treat of the roster that day, and he pleased the fans as much as the fans pleased him.
JDM began his hour with a standing ovation and a declaration of wonderment of why it took him so long to join the convention band wagon. He answered questions graciously and enthusiastically. He even happily performed the odd request of reading a romance novel excerpt. That was some entertainment, I dare say. The house band even offered a little mood music, which really set the serious tone. JDM talked a lot about his life since Supernatural and his current projects. Most importantly he stuck to his desire to return to Supernatural, but added a new stipulation. He wanted to be there for an episode that Jensen Ackles had to direct. Who knows maybe it will happen someday. For a man that was only in maybe eight episodes, some of those the briefest of cameos, he sure has a soft spot for the show and his fellow actors Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki. It not only touched my heartstrings to hear him refer to Jensen and Jared as his boys, but the rest of the fans alike as well.
Being the oblivious person that I am pretty much most of the time, I was too intent on JDM to really laser focus in on the happenings around me. I did notice a group of people walk past and clocked the black sports jackets long enough to process that they were security. I just dismissed it thinking they were heading to throw some poor soul out on their ass, but no they were escorting Jensen and Jared to the stage to crash JDM’s panel. I had to laugh at this because, I honestly didn’t even see Jared. He was wearing a white sock hat and is freakishly tall enough to make that eye catching in a mass of black clad security guards. Didn’t even see him.
It was cute to see our boys interact with their television father. They were joking around with the familiarity of longtime friends, which was great to see. One of the most epic moments of the evening happened during the transition between JDM’s panel and the boys’ panel. Jensen called up Samantha Smith, who plays their mother, Mary Winchester, to the stage so that they could have a real Winchester family reunion. They even posed for an awkward family photo that I was sadly unable to get a picture of. It was still pretty fantastic though, and for a Supernatural fan, damn near religious.
Of course then it was Jensen and Jared’s panel, which went as well as it always does. Horseplay, joking, and wacky antics that pretty much only get them through maybe four total questions in an hour. I’m exaggerating, but I have seen it happen before. Not that we fans don’t love every bit of it. They told fun stories about their kids, awkward guilty pleasure moments in music, the hilarious time they got confused as a gay couple when they needed a hotel room to catch some zzz’s before their flight, you know the usual topics. One answer that I personally found interesting was Jared and Jensen talking about their own paranormal experiences. They have probably been asked about their own paranormal experiences a lot over the years, but this is the first I have heard them talk about it anywhere. True it was in the usual nonchalant, joking fashion that they both have become known for, but still relevant. Jared had an unusual romantic getaway to a hotel with his wife that left him laying down some ground rules with an unknown and potential entity. Jensen talked about the first house he bought and the ground rules he also laid down after his friendly Casper decided to open and close his front door. They ended their hour with a show of their hula-hooping skills, with all the hilarity and dignity they could muster. Jensen even came out and helped sing a cover of Your Love by The Outfield.
The last panel of the evening was for Tahmoh Penikett. I may have not jumped into the world of Battlestar Galatica yet, but I loved him in Dollhouse. BSG is on the to do list. I promise. When he showed up on Supernatural, and his stay with that ending, I was pretty upset. I really enjoy him as an actor, and even thought his character could have gone a long way. I am hoping they bring him back, because I would love to see him, but I think he’s character needs a real second chance. Of course someone asked him what it was like to work with Joss Whedon, which would have been something I would have asked him. His love and admiration of Mr. Whedon just solidified why we fans loved Whedon so much. Once a part of the Whedon family, always a part of the Whedon family.
It was another great year! We bought some stuff from the vendor’s room. I bought the revised edition of The Essential Supernatural: On the Road with Dean and Sam Winchester. This is a very fantastic book filled with all sorts of facts and mementos. My friend bought us a water tumbler as well as an adorable little handmade bag for herself from The Subtle Geek. I got to meet some new friends. Shout out to Michele and Chelsea. I also made time to share this fantastic Strawberry Shortcake made with a biscuit. I know, random, but it was so damn good.