CAROL
(First encounter!! Another one down below!!)
From Rossville, GA.
First met him at Wizardworld in Philadelphia 2002
(First encounter!! Another one down below!!)
From Rossville, GA.
First met him at Wizardworld in Philadelphia 2002
HOW-deeeeee!!!!
Meesa back! And boy oh boy was this past weekend a whirl.
Trains -- Well, if you really don't like airport security or you have a dastardly plan for mayhem and destruction, trains are it.
No security. None. No metal detectors. No searches. No nothing. There was a security camera in Atlanta's AmTrak station.
One. I would assume Philly's train station was somewhat better observed. I did see a cop there on Sunday.
The con -- Lots and lots and LOTS of comic books. Mr. Bulloch (Boba Fett) is a remarkably nice person. We talked about
Amazon.com as he's writing a book and intends to publish it himself. But of course the reason I went to the entire thing was
Ray.
Here's the timeline. Got on the bus in Chattanooga at approx. 2 PM on Thursday. 2 hours later, in Atlanta at the AmTrak
station. 12 hours on the train, made worse by a collossal case of nerves, plus I think something was wrong with the train car
as it was a very rough ride. So finally I gets to Philly, and the train station is overwhelmingly huge, it looks like a cathedral
in size, I've never been anywhere so big. I had reserved a rental car, but they don't take debit cards, even Visa debit
cards... like everyone else, these fraggin '$%*&(# want a credit history. So to Plan B, and taxis. I get in the first taxi I see...
Oy. Wrong move. You'd assume a taxi driver would know where they're going, right? They do this all the time, right? 3
hours -- Yes, 3 HOURS -- later and several wrong ways, I finally get to my hotel. I contemplated not going to the con Friday
night at all, as by that time I was having heart palpitations and I felt my blood pressure was somewhere several kilometers
above where it should be, but I got cleaned up and put on fresh clothes and said, "Damn it, I'm here to see Ray and he's
there right now and frag it all, I'M GONNA SEE HIM." So after a reccommendation from the hotel's front desk regarding
other taxi services, I was within half an hour of leaving the hotel at the con.
The dealer's room was another vast chamber of epic proportions, filled with people, comic books, video games... and in
the very back corner...
(cue the John Williams music)
There he was. With his latest partner in crime, Andreas. (Who is, himself, quite handsome, and by the end of the weekend I
was somewhat smitten with him as well.)
Mind you, this was probably a mistake to have gone Friday night. I hadn't gotten much sleep on the train, I still felt about
as overcharged as a cellphone that's sat on the charger too long... But bullheaded stupidity --- I mean stubbornness --
prevailed. So silly me gets in the line to see him.
My friends, I accomplished my mission. I did indeed speak to him. In fact I babbled. Poor Ray looked like he didn't know
what to think of me. (I don't blame him.) Andreas was grinning like a loon. But Ray asked if I'm into martial arts. I told him
no, I'd leave that to him. I told him I'm a writer, and that I'd written this book, and was thinking of him when I wrote two of
the characters. He said he couldn't accept the disk without some kind of waiver saying I wasn't giving him this for profit or
whatever, so I asked if such could be handwritten. He said yes. Anyway, I joked with him and Andreas about the fight
exhibition set for the next day and got them to promise to beat each other up. And promised that yes, I would be there
front row center to watch. All this time, Andreas is still grinning like a loon. He really is a nice guy. But I spoke to them. I
didn't stand there staring like I'd lost my mind. No, I babbled like I'd lost my mind. Probably I did...
So I floated back to the taxi and went back to the hotel and ordered pizza, most of which I didn't eat, and watched the
History channel until I felt like I could finally pass out.
7:30 next morning, I'm up. I'm in the cab by 9. At the con by 9:30. Standing in line to go in with about 500 other people.
(The con opens at 10 in the morning.) Found the spot for the exhibition. And until they arrived I wandered around the con
talking to comic book publishers. Hmm, maybe Machina Obscura could be a comic book...
Anyway, around about 11, I go to camp my place at the exhibition spot. I would have that front row center spot I promised.
12 Noon, they arrive with their weapons. Odd swords. The blades are made of some sort of soft metal, they bend very
easily. Safer, I guess. Anyway. So they look like twins, dressed identically. I half expected a herald from the SCA to yell
"Lay on!" before they started. Whackitty whackitty whack. Jumping and running. And yes, Virginia, there is a god... Ray had
put his weapons right in front of me, so when he came back to get his double-sided sword he pointed to his right arm...
Andreas had nicked him! I sent Igor to fetch the honey and fire ants. Why the nerve... Anyway, more whackitty whackitty.
But it was only a short show, since they hadn't sold tickets for the exhibition but the con had paid them for it... Nevermind. I
was content. I was mindless. I am and evermore shall be hopelessly besotted with this man, so why bother to fight it, eh?
He hung around answering questions and shaking peoples' hands... and said he'd be back in half an hour to sign
autographs again.
I was prepared. I had written the waiver thingy the night before (I'm a writer, I never go anywhere without some form of
notebook and writing utensil). So I got in line early. I am a faithful groupie. They arrive back and I try again. I'd put my
contact info in the waiver thing and told Ray if anyone had a problem with it, I'd deal with it. If I get anywhere with all this
crazy writing stuff it'll be on my own two feet and by my own actions. Got Harry's Darth Maul action figure signed... and got
a picture with them. And right after the picture... they both kissed my cheek.
AAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!
It's a wonder I didn't faint. I somehow walked away... somehow. Complete neural shutdown apparently doesn't extend to
the limbs...
So I got back to this guy I'd met and had been talking to, and he said he'd seen Ray kiss me, and I held up my hand, and I
was shaking like a leaf. So much for Jedi control!
And I spent the rest of the day wandering around the con and talking... somehow.
Who needs to eat, anyway? But I did. Across the street from the con was the Reading Terminal Market, which is this huge
space absolutely jam-packed with all these different food places from all over the world... I made myself eat some veggie
sushi and wandered around there for a while, the place is loud with so many people. Went back to the con. Wandered
some more. Then went back to the hotel and watched Discovery channel until I thought I could possibly sleep... (Cable
TV is a luxury to me, I don't have such at home.) One of the movie channels was showing X-Men. Oy!
Went to sleep, got up the next morning, and began on my trip home, which was a much better trip than going up there
was. I actually got some sleep on the train. But the bus from Atlanta didn't have an air conditioner and it was jam-packed.
Blech...
Anyway, I am home. Mission accomplished. Love and bravery prevailed. And now I shall proceed to live happily ever after.
Meesa back! And boy oh boy was this past weekend a whirl.
Trains -- Well, if you really don't like airport security or you have a dastardly plan for mayhem and destruction, trains are it.
No security. None. No metal detectors. No searches. No nothing. There was a security camera in Atlanta's AmTrak station.
One. I would assume Philly's train station was somewhat better observed. I did see a cop there on Sunday.
The con -- Lots and lots and LOTS of comic books. Mr. Bulloch (Boba Fett) is a remarkably nice person. We talked about
Amazon.com as he's writing a book and intends to publish it himself. But of course the reason I went to the entire thing was
Ray.
Here's the timeline. Got on the bus in Chattanooga at approx. 2 PM on Thursday. 2 hours later, in Atlanta at the AmTrak
station. 12 hours on the train, made worse by a collossal case of nerves, plus I think something was wrong with the train car
as it was a very rough ride. So finally I gets to Philly, and the train station is overwhelmingly huge, it looks like a cathedral
in size, I've never been anywhere so big. I had reserved a rental car, but they don't take debit cards, even Visa debit
cards... like everyone else, these fraggin '$%*&(# want a credit history. So to Plan B, and taxis. I get in the first taxi I see...
Oy. Wrong move. You'd assume a taxi driver would know where they're going, right? They do this all the time, right? 3
hours -- Yes, 3 HOURS -- later and several wrong ways, I finally get to my hotel. I contemplated not going to the con Friday
night at all, as by that time I was having heart palpitations and I felt my blood pressure was somewhere several kilometers
above where it should be, but I got cleaned up and put on fresh clothes and said, "Damn it, I'm here to see Ray and he's
there right now and frag it all, I'M GONNA SEE HIM." So after a reccommendation from the hotel's front desk regarding
other taxi services, I was within half an hour of leaving the hotel at the con.
The dealer's room was another vast chamber of epic proportions, filled with people, comic books, video games... and in
the very back corner...
(cue the John Williams music)
There he was. With his latest partner in crime, Andreas. (Who is, himself, quite handsome, and by the end of the weekend I
was somewhat smitten with him as well.)
Mind you, this was probably a mistake to have gone Friday night. I hadn't gotten much sleep on the train, I still felt about
as overcharged as a cellphone that's sat on the charger too long... But bullheaded stupidity --- I mean stubbornness --
prevailed. So silly me gets in the line to see him.
My friends, I accomplished my mission. I did indeed speak to him. In fact I babbled. Poor Ray looked like he didn't know
what to think of me. (I don't blame him.) Andreas was grinning like a loon. But Ray asked if I'm into martial arts. I told him
no, I'd leave that to him. I told him I'm a writer, and that I'd written this book, and was thinking of him when I wrote two of
the characters. He said he couldn't accept the disk without some kind of waiver saying I wasn't giving him this for profit or
whatever, so I asked if such could be handwritten. He said yes. Anyway, I joked with him and Andreas about the fight
exhibition set for the next day and got them to promise to beat each other up. And promised that yes, I would be there
front row center to watch. All this time, Andreas is still grinning like a loon. He really is a nice guy. But I spoke to them. I
didn't stand there staring like I'd lost my mind. No, I babbled like I'd lost my mind. Probably I did...
So I floated back to the taxi and went back to the hotel and ordered pizza, most of which I didn't eat, and watched the
History channel until I felt like I could finally pass out.
7:30 next morning, I'm up. I'm in the cab by 9. At the con by 9:30. Standing in line to go in with about 500 other people.
(The con opens at 10 in the morning.) Found the spot for the exhibition. And until they arrived I wandered around the con
talking to comic book publishers. Hmm, maybe Machina Obscura could be a comic book...
Anyway, around about 11, I go to camp my place at the exhibition spot. I would have that front row center spot I promised.
12 Noon, they arrive with their weapons. Odd swords. The blades are made of some sort of soft metal, they bend very
easily. Safer, I guess. Anyway. So they look like twins, dressed identically. I half expected a herald from the SCA to yell
"Lay on!" before they started. Whackitty whackitty whack. Jumping and running. And yes, Virginia, there is a god... Ray had
put his weapons right in front of me, so when he came back to get his double-sided sword he pointed to his right arm...
Andreas had nicked him! I sent Igor to fetch the honey and fire ants. Why the nerve... Anyway, more whackitty whackitty.
But it was only a short show, since they hadn't sold tickets for the exhibition but the con had paid them for it... Nevermind. I
was content. I was mindless. I am and evermore shall be hopelessly besotted with this man, so why bother to fight it, eh?
He hung around answering questions and shaking peoples' hands... and said he'd be back in half an hour to sign
autographs again.
I was prepared. I had written the waiver thingy the night before (I'm a writer, I never go anywhere without some form of
notebook and writing utensil). So I got in line early. I am a faithful groupie. They arrive back and I try again. I'd put my
contact info in the waiver thing and told Ray if anyone had a problem with it, I'd deal with it. If I get anywhere with all this
crazy writing stuff it'll be on my own two feet and by my own actions. Got Harry's Darth Maul action figure signed... and got
a picture with them. And right after the picture... they both kissed my cheek.
AAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!
It's a wonder I didn't faint. I somehow walked away... somehow. Complete neural shutdown apparently doesn't extend to
the limbs...
So I got back to this guy I'd met and had been talking to, and he said he'd seen Ray kiss me, and I held up my hand, and I
was shaking like a leaf. So much for Jedi control!
And I spent the rest of the day wandering around the con and talking... somehow.
Who needs to eat, anyway? But I did. Across the street from the con was the Reading Terminal Market, which is this huge
space absolutely jam-packed with all these different food places from all over the world... I made myself eat some veggie
sushi and wandered around there for a while, the place is loud with so many people. Went back to the con. Wandered
some more. Then went back to the hotel and watched Discovery channel until I thought I could possibly sleep... (Cable
TV is a luxury to me, I don't have such at home.) One of the movie channels was showing X-Men. Oy!
Went to sleep, got up the next morning, and began on my trip home, which was a much better trip than going up there
was. I actually got some sleep on the train. But the bus from Atlanta didn't have an air conditioner and it was jam-packed.
Blech...
Anyway, I am home. Mission accomplished. Love and bravery prevailed. And now I shall proceed to live happily ever after.
CAROL
(Second Encounter!!)
Met him again at DragonCon in Atlanta, Ga. in August 2003
(Second Encounter!!)
Met him again at DragonCon in Atlanta, Ga. in August 2003
DragonCon is huge. Really huge. You can't imagine how mind-bogglingly huge it is. There are too many people. They
were expecting 25,000. I have heard a rumor of an actual number closer to 30,000. Normally a con takes up one hotel,
right? The DragonCon functions alone take up two hotels across the street from each other. There are about a dozen other
"overflow" hotels for people to actually stay at.
Thus, you walk -- a lot. You get lost -- a lot. You see more people in costume than you ever thought existed. You see more
of the Fighting 501st than you need to, so much you fell like some Imperial garrison has decided to take planetside shore
leave in the middle of Atlanta. You see bad Jedi costumes. You see good Jedi costumes. You see Goths. You see both
Hollys from Red Dwarf. You see Peter Mayhew crossing the street and recount to your friends that where other kids had
teddy bears, you had a Chewie doll. And that you still have it.
And you can walk right past Ray and not even see him. You can go right to your friend who is working Security and ask her
if she wants to help you find Ray -- at which she says, "Honey, he's right there" and points directly behind you.
So I am not the most observant of people.
What can one say? Words often fail me with regards to Ray, but this is what I am. As Dr. Campbell used to say, "The best
things can't be told."
I had brought my EvsS pics for Ray to autograph, so while he did so we talked. I told him we were all pulling for him for
Iron Fist, but he still doesn't know when/if that will ever get off the ground. All the directors possible for it are working on
other projects. I asked him about Dragonball -- "No, I'm not doing that," he says, but he had this look in his eyes -- all
innocence. "Who, ME?" that look said. Uh-huh. We'll see about that.
But then he said he was giving up acting. That what he really wants to do now is go back to teaching. He's done the
acting, he's been in the movies -- and now he wants to go on. The way he said it, I agree with him. Because he was talking
about doing what you really want to do.
I told him I understood it. Because I'm doing the same thing. Dr. Campbell used to say, "Follow your bliss."
It was a moment most odd for me. To look up at him and to feel at the same instant "No" and "Yes". To think
simultaneously, "But I'll miss you in the movies" and "Yes, I understand." To feel your heart crack and cheer at the same
time.
What can you do?
I hugged him and said I hoped I'd see him next year.
Even if maybe I won't.
Later I went to a talk he did, listened to him answering questions, clear off the stage and teach three "Jedi" lightsaber
moves, jump around. During the course of this he explained he'd injured his knee, and couldn't work out so much lately. It
occured to me he might have started thinking about the future when he got hurt. He's got Lisa now. He'd joked when I
talked to him that he wanted to become a monk, and I said I thought his wife may have a thing or two to say about that
first, and he laughed. I think he's looking at the 2.5 kids, the minivan and the house and thinking it may be a good idea
after all not to be flitting all over the world doing movies. Maybe a steady gig as a teacher is looking like a good deal now.
And it's what he wants to do.
So eventually after too much walking and not enough food and too may people, I made it to my room to try to sleep. And
being unable to drop off into WackyLand (dreams lately have been odd) I started in on the usual rounds of brooding. All
the usual garbage about now nobody understands me. My fears that my recent mental perturbations may have alienated
me from normal humanity to such an extent that I will never be able to relate to anyone properly ever again. Too hip for
prime-time and too weird for Saturday morning cartoons... Is the price I'm gonna pay for being a writer going to be this
constant isolation until I forget altogether how to deal with other humans? Like those baby monkeys who were raised by
scientists with only wire-frame dummies, and they all went crazy...
Then I remembered.
I may never see him again. But I think that for a minute, at least, we understood each other.
'Nuff Said.
Tilt
were expecting 25,000. I have heard a rumor of an actual number closer to 30,000. Normally a con takes up one hotel,
right? The DragonCon functions alone take up two hotels across the street from each other. There are about a dozen other
"overflow" hotels for people to actually stay at.
Thus, you walk -- a lot. You get lost -- a lot. You see more people in costume than you ever thought existed. You see more
of the Fighting 501st than you need to, so much you fell like some Imperial garrison has decided to take planetside shore
leave in the middle of Atlanta. You see bad Jedi costumes. You see good Jedi costumes. You see Goths. You see both
Hollys from Red Dwarf. You see Peter Mayhew crossing the street and recount to your friends that where other kids had
teddy bears, you had a Chewie doll. And that you still have it.
And you can walk right past Ray and not even see him. You can go right to your friend who is working Security and ask her
if she wants to help you find Ray -- at which she says, "Honey, he's right there" and points directly behind you.
So I am not the most observant of people.
What can one say? Words often fail me with regards to Ray, but this is what I am. As Dr. Campbell used to say, "The best
things can't be told."
I had brought my EvsS pics for Ray to autograph, so while he did so we talked. I told him we were all pulling for him for
Iron Fist, but he still doesn't know when/if that will ever get off the ground. All the directors possible for it are working on
other projects. I asked him about Dragonball -- "No, I'm not doing that," he says, but he had this look in his eyes -- all
innocence. "Who, ME?" that look said. Uh-huh. We'll see about that.
But then he said he was giving up acting. That what he really wants to do now is go back to teaching. He's done the
acting, he's been in the movies -- and now he wants to go on. The way he said it, I agree with him. Because he was talking
about doing what you really want to do.
I told him I understood it. Because I'm doing the same thing. Dr. Campbell used to say, "Follow your bliss."
It was a moment most odd for me. To look up at him and to feel at the same instant "No" and "Yes". To think
simultaneously, "But I'll miss you in the movies" and "Yes, I understand." To feel your heart crack and cheer at the same
time.
What can you do?
I hugged him and said I hoped I'd see him next year.
Even if maybe I won't.
Later I went to a talk he did, listened to him answering questions, clear off the stage and teach three "Jedi" lightsaber
moves, jump around. During the course of this he explained he'd injured his knee, and couldn't work out so much lately. It
occured to me he might have started thinking about the future when he got hurt. He's got Lisa now. He'd joked when I
talked to him that he wanted to become a monk, and I said I thought his wife may have a thing or two to say about that
first, and he laughed. I think he's looking at the 2.5 kids, the minivan and the house and thinking it may be a good idea
after all not to be flitting all over the world doing movies. Maybe a steady gig as a teacher is looking like a good deal now.
And it's what he wants to do.
So eventually after too much walking and not enough food and too may people, I made it to my room to try to sleep. And
being unable to drop off into WackyLand (dreams lately have been odd) I started in on the usual rounds of brooding. All
the usual garbage about now nobody understands me. My fears that my recent mental perturbations may have alienated
me from normal humanity to such an extent that I will never be able to relate to anyone properly ever again. Too hip for
prime-time and too weird for Saturday morning cartoons... Is the price I'm gonna pay for being a writer going to be this
constant isolation until I forget altogether how to deal with other humans? Like those baby monkeys who were raised by
scientists with only wire-frame dummies, and they all went crazy...
Then I remembered.
I may never see him again. But I think that for a minute, at least, we understood each other.
'Nuff Said.
Tilt
