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!