Okay, CHICON. It’s taken me this long to catch up with life, post-con. Men are effin’ helpless without their token female to keep them up and running, it would seem. And then my mom came into town (to enjoy my house, sans cleaning…which was fun…)
So! I had a great time, not surprisingly. There’s something freeing about being amongst people who won’t judge you for obsessing over a hobby. For some reason, it’s perfectly acceptable to be a huge fan of a sports team, but God forbid you become a huge fan of a particular movie/TV show/book series. Then you’re crazycakes.
Don’t get me wrong; there ARE crazycake fans. There are people who cry upon meeting the stars and fight with each other over ships/character-bashing and try to be the One Fan the stars remember (usually by doing something entirely inappropriate.) I visibly cringed when certain fans asked the stars about detailed canon quandaries their characters weren’t even vaguely involved in. But there are also a plethora of smart, adorable women who enjoy seeing human nature reflected in the tales and imagery of Supernatural, and are grateful to the creative team that has brought us the franchise. So if you fall into the latter, don’t be afraid to wave your flag. It makes us ALL look better and when the water level rises, all boats float!
Just had to get that outta the way.
First off, Chicago’s beltway that cuts through the city was insane. If I lived there, I’d depend on public transportation like WHOA. I drove over with honeylocusttree and once we got off the Big Roads into the city, we were coasting. The hotel was nice and clean and freshly renovated. The food in-house was woefully overpriced but we came stocked with munchies galore. Highly advisable. You don’t often find time to grab outside vittles.
We touched base with the fantastically talented cassiopeia7 and of course we had to try Death’s favorite pizza: deep-dish Chicago-style.
It ain't pretty, but it's tasty.
In transit, we saw a soggy little piece of the Miracle Mile. Later that weekend we caught up with borgmama1of5, and I wish we could’ve spent more time with both of them. One of the nicest things about these conventions is getting to meet your flist. Truly.
I ponied up for a Gold Ticket (and I still owe folks commissions that helped fund this adventure…bad, artist, bad!) I’m glad I did it, though. I’m short and I never would’ve been able to see otherwise. The extras—a Saturday night cocktail party and Sunday’s continental breakfast with J2—were worth it. (Thanks to @bookdal on Twitter and purplehrdwonder for entertaining me during cocktail hour!) Not sure I’ll attend another con (unless it’s to visit other LJ buds) but honestly, you’ve got to do it at least once.
An observation about karaoke: I’ve never done it, but is it customary to think that a person sings better when they sing louder? Rhetorical, really.
During the panels, the celebrities were all, without fail, lovely folk. They weren’t full of themselves, and they clearly appreciate the fandom that has kept them in business. Poor Rachel Miner had a helluva cold but soldiered on, regardless. She’s got the tiniest hands. Kim Rhodes…sassy as always! Gabe Tigerman and DJ Qualls were surprisingly charming and I just wanted to take both of them home in my pocket. Jim Beaver is quite the Cranky Old Man on stage but in person? He’s a teddy bear.
I was a little worried for Emily Perkins, who plays Becky. Fandom seems to be quite torn about that character. Turns out Emily is a huge fangirl; she founded a Star Trek fanclub and when pressed (by me at the cocktail party), she promised there is nothing but love for our fandom. No one—not the writers, actors or production—intended anything disrespectful. So there ya go. I still hope another ‘Time for a Wedding’ never happens.
James Patrick “Dick” Stuart answered my question about when he’ll let his kids, who are four and six-ish, watch Supernatural. They do already, but ‘bibbing’ required a bit of explanation to the younger child. “But Daddy, what about the last bite?” JPS also had veneers made for his teeth so when he played Dick, he had the creepiest damned politician’s smile. Hey, it worked. Brilliant idea.
I took shit for pictures; my apologies. I'm not terribly sentimental about such things and the camera on my phone isn't fantastic.
Regarding the Big Three…you know who I mean…just, wow. They’re less burly than they appear on television; guess it really does add ten pounds. Jared, in particular, is a lot rangier than Sam. Must be the way he holds himself, in character. Jensen is effin’ beautiful, I kid you not. He won that genetic lottery. Misha was incredibly personable and could charm the skirt off a nun. I brought original drawings for them to sign and despite the waiting line, Misha and I chatted about how creatives had to be prostitutes for their craft. He remembered my drawing at the cocktail party that night. He’s a lovely, lovely guy.
And here’s something funny. Typically, I don’t get star-struck…especially with a beer or two in the system. But when I approached Jared’s table to have him sign my drawing and he looked up at me, all the spit left my mouth. I stood there like a suffocating trout. That bone structure, that grin, that “Wow, shit!” when he looked at the picture. I was such a boob. And I’m hopelessly and forever smitten.
That’s it, in a nutshell!
Again, I thank everyone who helped make this possible (your art is in the works) and if anyone has any questions or comments, launch ‘em at me. The weekend was a bit of a beer-tinged blur but great gobs of happy funtimes! I hope to meet more of my talented flist in future liaisons…
Until then, carry on.