Now, there's definitely some back story here. I didn't even know this event existed, until one day I saw an advertisement for Leonard Nimoy doing a Skype there. Leonard. Nimoy. Leonard. Freakin'. Nimoy.
The same Leonard Nimoy who had retired from the convention circuit several years back. The same Leonard Nimoy I'd just resigned myself to never being able to meet or see. This was big. Huge.
After I got over my excitement (seriously - I danced around my office), I decided I had to go. I live in Upstate NY, so, Canada is like right...... There. Driving distance. (And yeah, I've never really gotten over the fact that A WHOLE OTHER COUNTRY is driving distance from my house.) So I opened up Mapquest... Ottawa was only 5 hours from my house by car. Five hours was totally doable!
There was only one problem: If I wanted to go, I had to drive it myself. Alone.
And yeah, that doesn't *seem* like a problem, until you figure in my driving phobia. But... but... Leonard. Nimoy.
I drove up on a Friday. I won't lie, I had a couple panic attacks on the drive up. And I became far more acquainted with truck stops than I ever had expected to be. And I may or may not have sobbed my eyes out to a couple William Shatner songs along the way. (The man gets to me, okay?!) And I may or may not have freaked the heck out when my Check Engine light came on an hour away from Canada, in the middle of nowhere. Oh, and who forgot to mention that the US is attached to Canada via a BRIDGE? Did I mention my sheer terror of bridges? No? Well. There was that. I may or may not have called my husband and screamed "OMG THERE'S A BRIDGE!!!!" By the way, it's literally called "The Bridge to Canada." Like, literally. The sign actually says that.
And Customs Agents? Totally no sense of humor. None. Zero. I had a dog kennel in the back seat of my car. What? I have dogs, and my lazy rear didn't feel like taking it out and folding it down, so I just left it there. This happened:
Agent: Do you have any animals with you? (looking at the cage)
Me: Just a sock monkey!
Agent: (scowling)
Me: (holds up Caesar the Sock Monkey and laughs nervously)
Agent: What's in the cage?
Me: Oh - it's empty.
Agent: There's a blanket in it! (angrily)
Me: Oh. Um. Yes. There is. It's um...devoid of animal life.
Agent: (scowls) Pull over and go inside.
Yeah. Inside it didn't get any better.
Agent at counter: Are you American?
Me: Yes, Sir.
Agent: Sit down!
I sit down. This other dude walks in, gets the same treatment. He sits down by me and starts talking to me and I'm like "Don't talk to me! I'm not with him!"
I got quizzed on all sorts of things.
Agent: What's your occupation?
Me: I'm actually unemployed right now.
Agent: What do you do for money?
Me: Oh. Well, I'm on unemployment, and my husband has money.
Agent: Where does he get the money?
Me: Uh... he's disabled...so....disability.
Agent: How are you going to pay for your time in Canada?
Me: Um...I brought money with me. And I have credit cards. So. Um. Yeah.
Agent: (scowls) Go sit down.
::lip tremble:: After being there for 45 minutes, yet another agent came out, called my name, handed me my passport and cheerily said "You're all set! Have a good time!"
Seriously? Seriously?? Seriously.
The hotel lost half of my reservation. But my check engine light turned out to be my gas cap. Oh - little side note: Canadian Pepperoni Pizza. Don't. Just... don't. You're welcome.
After getting the hotel(s) figured out, and the check engine light off, I set out the next day for the convention. There's no host hotel, because the event is at a convention center. Which, tiny tip - if you go to this, and you drive, make sure you get up early and get there in time to park *at* the event. Because the overflow lot? Is a field about 500 miles away. Not really. It's walking distance. Well, I'm sure it's *someone's* walking distance. It's not fat New Yorker walking distance.
Anyhow.
I get there, and find out Karl Urban's going to be there! Holy crap, right? At this point, I have to confess I didn't get past Leonard Nimoy in terms of who was going to be there. Like...who cares? But Karl Urban? Yes, please. So I decided to buy a photo op, but the photo op guy only took Canadian money. (No, I didn't get Canadian money before I left America. Pfft - Canada's practically America!) I ran over to the customer service booth.... No, actually, I dodged, wobbled, wiggled, and inched over to the booth. Did I mention the place was *packed*? Yeah. That. Anyhow, I begged and pleaded and convinced the guy to do an even $100 exchange for me. I'm pretty sure one of us got screwed on the deal but ::ahem:: Karl Urban.
The event itself was awesome! Many cosplay. Much vendors. Shiny!!
I got to the Karl Urban line an hour early, because that's how I roll. This really cute chick was there early too. I don't remember her name, but we chatted and she fretted over her hair. We were the first and second in line (she was first) behind the VIP folks. Our time came up, and we headed into the little booth. Things were going great. I checked my hair in the little mirror on the wall. I smiled and chatted with the wrangler, who told me to tilt my head down because of my glasses. And then I was next.
And this happened:
Me: (turning toward Karl Urban)
Karl Urban: (turning toward me) Hi there.
Me: .....
Karl Urban: (chuckles)
Me: .....
Karl Urban: What's your name, sweetheart?
Me: (mumbles something vaguely reminiscent of Marci)
Karl Urban: Marci? That's a pretty name. How're you?
Me: ..... O...Ok...Okay.
Karl Urban: (chuckles) You're adorable. Come here, sweetheart.
Now, there are several things to bear in mind here. I'd never met an actual celebrity before. So. Yeah. Plus, he's Dr. Leonard McCoy. Plus, he's tall. And handsome. And muscled. And smells delicious. And... and.... Um.... What?
Anyhow.
I made it out without fainting, though I did spend a good portion of the next hour alternately shaking and laughing hysterically because #KarlUrban.
I got to the Leonard Nimoy Skype on time, found my seat. The Skype music came on and then.... Then.... YOU GUYS! Leonard. Freakin'. Nimoy. On. The. Screen. Right. There!!! OMG. He was *right there*! I laughed. I cried. I stared in open-mouthed awe. I took 900 photos. (Probably more like 50, but still. 50.) And then Karl Urban came on the stage. You should've seen Nimoy's response! He had no idea Karl was there, and he was just *tickled* to see him. They chatted for a minute, and OMG. O.M.G. Just. OMG.
::sigh::
I spent the rest of the convention buying stuff. I bought books. I bought shirts. I bought action figures. I bought jewelry. I bought art. I just... Yeah. I spent more money than my unemployed rear end should've but...
This convention is definitely a good one for a first timer. It's big enough to seem like a big time convention, but small enough to not be too overwhelming. There's a lack of seating on the convention floor, but if you go to these things, you tend to expect that. There's plenty of places where you can just plop down along a wall. The one frustrating thing is that, like I said, there's no host hotel. If you do this convention and plan on buying anything, I'd recommend bringing along an empty roller suitcase so you can just stow your stuff and drag it behind you. They sell convention bags for $5, and while they're great, it's really no fund hefting a bag of 20 paperback books around the concrete floor for hours.
I hope I get to go back again this year. I hear Nichelle Nichols will be there!
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