Turns out the brief abduction of a certain MarfDaze moose was filmed and Irving’s Crowley encounter was posted on youtube!
It seems like only last week that I was writing a piece about what it’s like to be an introverted convention goer.
Wait, it was last week.
This weekend, Irving and I are in Washington, D.C. for the Salute to Supernatural convention. I thought it might be fun to check out the Mark Sheppard panel.
He plays Crowley, the current king of hell, on the show. Even if you don’t follow Supernatural, you know him from something.
As a vendor, I don’t get a seat, but I’m allowed to watch if I hang out quietly on the side against the wall. No problem for me. I prefer to be off to the side, out of the way.
No sooner than Mark —
Can I call you Mark, Mr. Sheppard? I’m going to call you Mark.
— took the stage, he left it and began walking up and down the aisles, so that folks throughout the room could see him up close and snap photos.
He’s very urbane and droll. Plus smoky throated British accent. Delightful.
He’s clearly a seasoned pro at handling large audience Q and A sessions. Walk, walk, walk. Acerbic, but lovable bon mot. Walk, walk, walk. Quip, thoughtful answer, quip. Walk, walk, walk.
I was willing him to come down the aisle near my wallflower perch, so I could get my usual shot of a celebrity with Irving sneaking in the frame.
Come on, Mark, turn right.
Careful what you wish for.
At this point, MARK SHEPPARD SNATCHED IRVING OUT OF MY HANDS AND KEPT WALKING.
At first, I thought he’d give him back. But no, he just kept on going.
What was I to do? I started to walk behind him. The audience roared.
He didn’t even turn around. He just broke into a run.
I started to half-heartedly pretend jog, in an attempt to maintain a semblance of dignity.
Surely, you’re going to return Irving before you make a 40-year-old chick in a dress start to chase you for realsies.
“Cardio is important,” he tossed over his shoulder.
Was he seriously playing keep-away with me? Was I back on the 4th grade playground? I thought about giving up and appealing to the audience.
But, then again, despite Mark’s trash talking, I didn’t feel picked on. Mark’s got a layer of snarky, but he doesn’t seem like a bully…
A lightbulb went on over my head as my latent inner theater major kicked in. I realized I was being invited to join in “a bit”.
You wanna play, Mark? I’ll play.
Good thing I’ve been working out recently, because I ended up flat-out running in front of several hundred people (and now that I’m thinking about it, holy shit, soon to be thousands of youtube people — please be kind).
I got up to the front of the room, but then he sidestepped me and headed for the middle of the audience.
Oh, it’s so on.
I pretended to go this way, and then went that way. Despite my lack of animal grace and sports bra, the audience cheered and I knew they were on my side.
He returned and we ended up having a stand-off, in front of stage. Mark tossed Irving back.
As I headed back to my spot on the wall, I passed lots of hands extended for high fives.
I spent the rest of the panel in a bit of shock, heart racing, with Irving clutched to my chest.
Then later, back at my booth, folks were asking after Irving. He became a (very) minor celebrity in these here parts for an hour or so.
Still, we’ve had enough excitement for the weekend.
That was fun, but don’t you even think about kidnapping Irving again, Mark. We’re ready for you now.
UPDATE: The youtube video evidence is up!
I’m an introvert.
Two years ago, I went to my first-ever fan convention. It was loud and boisterous and I was alone and there were thousands of people and I had no idea how everything worked. I wanted to meet people who like the things I like, but to be honest, I was scared they wouldn’t like me.
I lasted only a few hours before becoming completely overwhelmed. I basically ran in, watched a John Barrowman panel, got his autograph and ran out. I had a ticket for a photo op with him, but I skipped it because it was all too much.
In some ways, this is a big change. I used to sing in front of people. On stages. Sometimes lots of people. And I loved it. It was freeing.
In some ways, I’m exactly the same. Lost in a crowd, navigating a big scary world of strangers who all seem to know each other and be confident in their own skins. Of course, I’m not unique in this feeling. But there it is.
Now, because of my handmade bag business, MarfDazeGeek, I go to at least one convention a month. When I’m ensconced in my booth, I have my own little comfort zone behind my trusty Singer sewing machine. I’m surrounded by all my creations and can watch all the convention goodness parade in front of me.
I’m thrilled when people drop by my booth to check out my bags. Often, these folks are in amazing costumes and we can bond over our love of sewing and sci-fi.
So many talented people.
But once I’m out from behind my table, I often revert to my Nervous Nellie Convention Newbie ways. There are people all around me who would talk to me if I just said something, but I stay quiet. The sad part is that I genuinely like other people and I’m interested in what they are doing, but I trip over my own feet.
Sometimes, I’ll go and get an autograph from a favorite actor. I usually practice what I want to say on the way over, but once I’m there, I’ll squeak out something fairly incoherent about how much I admire their work and then skitter away. It usually goes something like this:
Me: Hi! I enjoyed watching a character you play because blah blah blerg blop, blah blah.
Oh no, did I say blah blah blerg? That’s grammatically incorrect. I meant to say blah blerg blah. Also, wow your eyes are really blue/ sparkly/ big/ deep/ mesmerizing/ penetrating/ distracting in some way. Holy crap, am I blushing wicked bad or am I just having a hot flash?
Now you’re going to give me a picture of yourself portraying that character and sign it as tangible proof that we had this conversation. Then I’m just going to scurry over there and mentally repeat everything that just happened about 100 times and wallow in how awkward I am.
Me: Ok. Bye!
Them: See you later!
Sometimes, I just send in my much more socially skilled family members and friends and then grill them on what happened.
My husband’s an actor. I used to work in the theater professionally (not as an actor). I went to school with people who now show up in TV and movies all the time and I know these famous people are just human beings, too.
But that’s the problem in a nutshell. I’ve never met them before and there are fidgety convention-attendees in line behind me and why is everyone looking at me and what should I be doing with my hands and why am I still acting like a seventh grader?
It’s like that mega uncomfortable moment when you’re at a store and you’ve already paid and you’re hurriedly putting your change away because you feel like the person behind you and the cashier can’t get rid of you fast enough. Times a hundred.
But, then there’s James Marsters.
During a slow moment at Wizard World Raleigh, his normally super busy booth only had a few people, so I headed over, thinking I might be able to manage to talk to him without a cringeworthy incident. He was taking time to talk to each fan in depth. He asked follow-up questions and appeared to be genuinely interested in each person he spoke to, including the earnest student actor in front of me who was full of questions.
I asked him if I could take his picture with Irving, but he tried to convince me to be in the picture with him instead. I explained that I’m shy and Irving is my stand-in but he said I should be in the picture because I have a beautiful smile. (Ok, whatever, I thought. But still, it’s a nice thing to say. Thanks.) We talked about stage fright and singing and the power of eye contact until I didn’t feel nervous anymore.
And then he leaned in and said, “No really, I’m sure the camera loves you.”
I raised an incredulous eyebrow. And he raised an incredulous eyebrow right back. I felt like he was calling my bluff on my “shy schtick.” And for a second, looking into his eyes, I was over it.
I was calling my own bluff.
I could almost see myself getting into that picture.
And then maybe heading out on to the main convention floor and introducing myself to some friendly looking people and making new friends. And feeling like I could fit in.
Because this isn’t about feeling comfortable around famous people, which is not actually a necessary life skill. It’s about being comfortable around everybody.
Maybe I could do it.
Meanwhile, back in the relative safety of my booth and prescribed role as lady who makes and sells stuff, I’m happy to chat with whomever comes on by. And all sorts of people do drop in.
When I meet people this way, I’m much more comfortable because they are coming to my house and we can talk one on one. Even when they are a bit intimidating, like Nichelle Nichols, who saw me smiling at her, walked over, regally extended her hand and introduced herself.
So, if you are a Nervous Nellie Convention Newbie, feel free to drop by and we’ll commiserate until you feel at home, too. I admire you so much for just showing up and being yourself.
Next month, I’ll come full circle and I’ll be a vendor at Shore Leave in Maryland, with the one and only John Barrowman. Maybe, I’ll even get a picture… Perhaps I’ll even be in it.