‘Look, it’s all good. I probably will walk. Thank you so much.’
I open the door and head out, behind a set of Avengers where you can tell Hulk has pulled the short straw because it’s early December and he’s only in torn purple jogging bottoms. I don’t quite know what I’m doing, but at least my eyeliner is nice, and yes, my mum did that for me too.
As I head up to the hotel, this place seems to be rammed, there’s no theme, no order, but just a lot of excitable comic geeks like myself because we have found our north, found our people. I bet none of them are in thongs, though. Is there time to change my underwear? I am such a donkey.
‘Hello, hello,’ a voice suddenly says from behind me.
I hold my breath and turn around, smiling. Too late.
‘You’re either Hopper or Rick Grimes,’ I say.
He’s a sheriff. He’s a hot American sheriff. There’s a hat. I now know that I’m turned on by hats, which is new. Yep, permission to arrest me and give me a body search. I don’t know how to say this, but I see his eyes glance down to the boots and he smiles. ‘You look amazing by the way. Is this Sailor Moon or… Do I get to see your costume?’
Oh dear, if I open this coat and flash you, then you will see nipples. It would be indecent.
‘I’m pretty cold. It can wait?’ I say, trying to wink but not really succeeding. ‘So this is the thing?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, were you expecting something else? I thought it was a good-quality date idea. We can stand in a line and get Stanley Tucci’s autograph. We can also pose with the actual Ghostbusters car. Too cheesy?’ he says, oblivious to how this invitation could have been misconstrued. It’s very pure and innocent, given what we were talking about a few nights ago. In bed. Naked.
I grin back at him. ‘No, this is perfect.’
‘I’m Rick Grimes fromThe Walking Dead, by the way.’
‘It suits. Do you have a Colt Python?’ I ask.
He widens his eyes at me. Are we doing the sexy flirting now?
‘It’s the gun he carries in the show,’ I say, explaining myself. ‘Colt Python .357 Magnum revolver.’
He stops for a moment in his tracks to hear me say that out loud. ‘You knew that?’
‘I do. I remember things like that.’ Please don’t think that’s weird, please don’t think that’s weird.
Instead, he grins and takes my hand. OK, Rick. Let’s go get our geek on.
I’ve been to a few Comic Cons in my time, more so as a teen who was excited about minor celebrities and found security and community in this world, but there is something so brilliant about them. Everyone is so invested in being here. You see it in the costumes, in the way people are on a mission to track down their favourite supporting cast members, in the way they marvel at some piece of rare memorabilia, pick it up and try to work out if it’s worth the money and the shelf space. Case in point as two Jedi next to me are trying to figure out if they can afford an actual lightsaber once held by Samuel L. Jackson. It’s certainly different to the sales exhibitions I attend for work. These include SEXPO, where people come at me with lube, harnesses and strange sex inventions where I enquire about their patents and Kitemarks.
‘Do you think Samuel L. Jackson actually touched it? How can they prove that?’ asks Cameron.
Cameron is more excitable than me today. You get the sense he wasn’t allowed to attend such events as a child so everything is amazing and wondrous, in the way he literally whips his head around, taking everything in like an excitable dog. Together, we’ve posed with theGhostbusterscar from five different angles, had cocktails in a replicaStar Warscantina (and danced to the band), did a fake photo shoot for our own film poster, and I’ll admit, this is a cute date, a diversion from the very intense sexual nature of our relationship so far. We walk through the exhibition, not quite holding hands, not quite apart, but every time I point at something and reveal more of my inner geek to him, he moves in a little closer, his eyes smiling, nudging me jokingly, unfazed by the fact I’m very into prequels, and have very in-depth knowledge of filming locations and statistics from awards seasons.
‘No way! Come here, little dude!’
I laugh as Cameron erupts with happiness to see a kid coming towards us dressed in exactly the same outfit as him. My heart smiles, but you can’t be older than ten, I really hope you haven’t seen that show, kid, there’s a lot of exploding heads.
Cameron squats down to his level to chat to him. Such is the joy of Comic Con that we’re all friends here.
‘We’ve got to get a picture of this, Josie. Serious face, like we’re about to kill a zombie.’
I get out my phone and oblige, biting my lip at the adorability of it all. He stands and high-fives the kid before he scampers away.
‘Did you see that?’ Cameron marvels.
‘I did.’
‘Isn’t this place the best? Would you think it really really sad if we go back to theStar Trekbit? I think I might get that T-shirt? That’s sad, isn’t it?’
I shake my head. It’s not sad because I have aStar Trekonesie. I wear it to bed.
