As the kids today say, I "did a thing."

 

I was deathly in fear of doing this "thing" because it involved leaving James alone for the day. Make no mistake, he is much stronger and fitter than he was when he got out of the hospital at the end of June. But he still doesn't feel stable enough on his feet, mostly due to his back and knee pain, to go back to a cane or even back to where he was months ago just walking slowly and making sure he has touchpoints. He still relies on the rolling walker we got from Kaiser, but he's been using it to get around the kitchen much better—if still painfully—to the point where he can even wash a pan or two to start prepping.

 

When I told him what I wanted to do, he said, "Go ahead, do it. I want you to do it. You need the break and you deserve it." He even went on Amazon and ordered a tray/storage compartment that fit on the top of the walker so I didn't have to help him transport the parts of his breakfast anymore (the egg plate or the burritos, the tea, the oatmeal, and the smoothie drink). He kept repeating "I will be fine."

 

I was still paranoid, especially about what if he had a fall or had chest pains that didn't go away with nitroglycerin. To assuage that, I made sure the chair lift seat wasn't blocking the door and left a house key hidden on the porch, then told him to keep his phone on him at all times. If he had to call 911, hopefully he could tell them where the key was and they could get in without damaging the door.

 

So I did it.

 

From the moment that I saw Vincent D'Onofrio was going to be at DragonCon, I wanted to be there. We haven't gone since 2019, and, although I miss it, I don't miss the crowds, the constant noise, the crowds, the heat between the hotels, the crowds, the long wait for elevators since James is in the power chair, the crowds...well, you get it. I'm homesick for it, because DragonCon has been an alternate "home" for years, with a bunch of people I adore who I only see mainly there (the BritTrack people, the Trek Track folks, the sci-fi lit panel regulars, etc.). I miss them.

 

So I bought a Sunday membership and bought a photo op (it's a very early birthday gift to myself). Alice did offer me to loan me her badge on Saturday (which would have been naughty, but...) while she watched the Georgia football game, but I decided against it (but thanked her copiously). She reminded me to get parking in advance, which I did (and it turned out I didn't need to, as there was plenty of space on Sunday at less than I paid for pre-paid, but...better safe than sorry, as everyone's mom has said at least once).

We made it down to the wire with James neither having a fall or chest pains by Saturday night. Thursday night I was feeling guilty and said to him, "Maybe I should have gotten you a Sunday membership," thinking he could have wandered about while I was doing my fangirl thing. But just going for an echocardiogram, eating out at Pacific Buffet, and stopping at Barnes & Noble had wiped him out that day, and he demurred.

Sunday morning, after not a lot of sleep due to anxiety, I was up at 7:30. My backpack was already kitted up with some snacks, my camera, a folder to put my reserved photo from the photo op in, my tablet, etc. I dressed, fed and walked Tucker, used the bathroom, and off Butch and I went. The bad day driving to DragonCon is always Friday, because of rush-hour traffic; on Sunday the freeway is practically empty. We freewheeled following the GPS down I-75, exited at Courtland Street, turned left on Andrew Young, and drove up to opposite the Westin. With SpotHero all I did was drive into the garage, find a parking space, and walk off (coming out was just as easy; I didn't have to scan a QR code or anything).

After five years of non-attendance, you would have thought I'd fumble around trying to remember things. Nope—it's all muscle memory now, like riding a bicycle. It was cool and shady enough that I just walked down the big long hill from the Westin to the Courtland Grand (formerly the Sheraton), stopped once by a young blond woman who saw my Law & Order: Criminal Intent t-shirt (bought especially for the occasion!) and gushed "I love your shirt! I love that show," crossed Courtland Street again, and headed for registration. This was easy-peasy, just follow others through a little Disney World serpentine, show my QR code, and get my badge. Took five minutes. Then I went to Disability Services, because, while I am willing to wait in line, I cannot be outside in the sun or else Mr. Headache, Mr. Palpitations, and then Mr. Diarrhea will visit me in short order. DS decided that was justifiable and I got a seat in line and end of row designation.

Now, breakfast! Again by long habit: hike the block to the Courtland Garage, use their elevator to what James and I have always called "the Luke Skywalk" and into Peachtree Center and the myriad of eating locations, some shuttered until lunch, others open for breakfast. Of course I went to Cafe Momo, which is a big buffet-by-the-pound, as I planned to have a hearty meal and then just snack later. In my styrofoam container I put oatmeal in one small compartment, roast potatoes in the other, a slice of French toast and some peeled and sliced oranges and kiwi fruit in the big compartment. Finishing off with a reduced-fat milk and a bagel and cream cheese, I went out to the tables to eat. (They have lots of other stuff—eggs—yuck!—both scrambled and fried and spicy; grits, pre-made tortilla shell meals with meat and lettuce; different fruits; coffee and tea; cereals; etc.)

Oh, if you were looking for Waldo, I found him having breakfast at Peachtree Center, too!

When I got done it was much too early to go to the Walk of Fame where Vincent D'Onofrio would be signing things, so I marched over the skybridges through the Marriott and into the Hilton to descend to the oh-so-wonderful coolness of the Galleria level where Trek Track and BritTrack are and walked into the Lower Decks panel. Alan Siler was on the panel and I can't remember when I'd seen him in person last. I got two hugs and we talked and he told me how he was splitting the book he was writing in three parts, and that his Kozmic Press outfit is going to be doing an anthology of essays of women talking about how they were influenced by the Beatles. You so rarely see books written about how women have been influenced by rock bands!

And the panel was fun, too, talking about favorite moments in Lower Decks—has any scene been funnier than the punchline with T'Ana and the box she asks Beckett and Tendi to fetch?—and if this is really the end for the series.

Now I moseyed on back to the Marriott and the Walk of Fame; there was no line at this point and I just strolled right in. The actors sit in little booths talking to the fans and selling autographs (James and I have been going long enough to remember when you bought the photos from a dealer or from the actor and the actors signed them for free!). Jodie Whittaker (Doctor #13) was signing autographs practically in front of me. Vincent D'Onofrio wasn't at his booth, so I walked around checking everyone out. Anson Mount, when I finally spied him, was wearing a baseball hat, so no glimpse of the infamous Pike hair wave, and looked tired. There was a lively crowd around "the hobbits" (Dominic Monaghan, Billy Boyd, and Elijah Wood).

And I absolutely had to stop and say hi to Barry Gordon when he was free. He does animation voices now, but I remember Barry Gordon from when he was a child actor, especially in the film A Thousand Clowns with Jason Robards. It was on television in the late 60s and I cried at the end when Robards realized that, to support his abandoned nephew (Gordon) properly, he would have to give up his bohemian lifestyle and take a 9-to-5 job. When he walks off dressed in the suit carrying a briefcase just like all the other white-collar automatons in NYC I burst into tears. He seemed happy that I remembered it.

Finally I went back to the line to find out that Vincent D'Onofrio was expected shortly, so I got into line. I had his two books with me, Mutha and Pigs Can't Look Up. Unfortunately, I found out in line that it was cash only. I'd been talking with various of his fans in line, including other CI fans, and the guy dressed as the Fourth Doctor said, "There's an ATM over there; I'll hold your place!" and I ran over and got the cash. Turned out I could only have one book signed with the money I had and I really couldn't afford both, so I got Mutha signed and told him I remembered going to the Monkey Jungle place in Florida that he wrote about when I was about two or three (I agree; it was a terrible place, all noise and agitated simians and smelled horrible, and why parents dragged kids there I'll never know). The line was long and I didn't want to take too much of his time, so I never asked him James' question, which was if we would ever see a DVD or at least a streaming release of Night of the Cooters, and then I was sorry a few minutes later when another woman engaged him in conversation for at least two or three minutes.

 

(While I'd been waiting earlier he told the woman before me the story of the unusual voice he uses for the Jack Horne character in the remake of The Magnificent Seven. He was in London doing a movie (I wonder if it was the Sherlock Holmes film) and he was waiting at a restaurant when this enormous man walked in; he actually blocked the light coming in the restaurant door he was so big, and "his hands were the size of baseball mitts." So he says something to him and this huge man replies in this high-pitched voice, so he wanted to use that voice in the future.)

I stood there a long time watching him interact with everyone. Honestly, he looks gorgeous. You can tell he works out and takes care of himself; the only sign that he's older is the grey hair and beard. His hands are still absolutely beautiful, long slim fingers like a pianist's might be. (Yeah, I'm gushing here...)

 

I also ran into Rob Bowen and got a hug. I was really restricting myself on locations, so perhaps it followed, but I didn't run into nearly as many people as I do—I usually see someone from ARTC, or Mark Heffernan, or the Rays, or Roger Nichols, or even Laura Hayden...but...no.

Finally I decided I needed to hit a bathroom and hie myself over to the Hyatt to get in line for the 2:30 panel. I'd been in terrible fear that I would need to pee before the panel and lose my place in line or, even worse, have to pee during the panel, so I was sucking on watermelon candies and hadn't drunk anything since the milk at breakfast (which was terrible—it was labeled "ultra-filtered milk" and tasted like milk-flavored water). So when a friendly looking woman sat next to me in the waiting area I started talking to her and we were "bathroom buddies" for the duration; she watched my backpack while I used the rest room and then I watched hers. We bonded over knee surgery, which she'd had (both knees) and I was telling her James wished he could.

(BTW, I periodically texted James all day, mostly to receive the response "I'm fine; have fun!")

One of my photos from the panel.

The panel loaded quickly, and I got a nice aisle seat where I could take a lot of photos. Vincent was on this panel with Mike Colter, who played Luke Cage in the short-lived series. They were very easy with each other and it turned out they knew each other from sometime back when Colter was in an episode of CI ("Albatross"). (They had this very funny back-and-forth about the meaning of the word "albatross"—yes, it's a really neat bird, but it also has a metaphorical meaning and so on...) Since this was a panel about Marvel, the questions were mostly about Kingpin and Luke Cage, a lot of it going over my head since I've avoided Daredevil due to the violence. He did talk about how he loved the role, but that gaining the extra weight every time they filmed was getting harder because it's hard to lose weight as you get older. For the newest series, they have a new "fat suit" which he said is still very warm, but is very light, "like a sneaker," he described it. So with that and the use of prosthetics and makeup he doesn't have to gain the weight any longer (which is fine with me because he looks so fine!). Vincent also told the story about how he got the part of Private Pyle in Full Metal Jacket; Matthew Modine, a friend of his, encouraged him to audition via a short film (he was working as a bodyguard at that time) and he rented a camera and performed some dialog from a play. Stanley Kubrick was impressed enough by the film to call him, and the first time he hung up on Kubrick because he thought it was a joke. Kubrick called right back and said immediately, "Don't hang up!"

Once the panel was over, I had a short appointment in the ladies' room—"unavoidable delay" as Frank Gilbreth would put it—since it wasn't crowded, which I used it as an opportunity to decompress and cool down.

 

It was not yet 4:30 when I headed downstairs for my 5 p.m.photo op. The area outside was crowded and hot, and I noticed from my appointment printout that I was still early, so I wandered in the rest room for a little longer and splashed cold water on myself and cleaned my face off and put a tiny bit of blush on.

 

I'd never done one of these before so I wandered back following the signs not knowing what to expect. The basement level of the Marriott was partitioned off with a lot of dark curtains hanging from portable curtain stands. It was hard to be in this area without nostalgia because it had served DragonCon as the Dealer's Room and the Walk of Fame for so many years; it was here I got June Lockhart's autograph and talked to Dee Wallace-Stone about her being back to back with June Lockhart—two of Lassie's TV moms together! (Now the Dealer's Room takes up four levels of the Merchandise Mart!) The one thing I hate about the new Walk of Fame is they forbid you to take unauthorized photos; I used to love going in there and get candid shots of the performers interacting with the fans. I have photos of Mark Goddard and numerous other people just sitting behind a table and hanging with congoers.

At first you stay in a general area where you wait for your photo op "partner" to be called. While a bunch of us waited, including a woman in a "DUN DUN" Law & Order shirt, I saw someone dressed as Vincent's Daredevil character Kingpin come in, portly, with the white dinner jacket, the cane and all. Then there were two of them, then three, and finally there were four of them altogether. They posed for pictures with the people waiting. It was funny.

Then we D'Onofrio fans got called back and shuttled into lines. There were some DS seats available, but I was trying to stand and let the seats go for the people with back and leg problems. Now at this point I hadn't actually had a drink since ten a.m., and sucking on Jolly Ranchers wasn't helping any longer. I finally pointed to a chair and asked "May I sit down?" because I glanced at my Fitbit and discovered my pulse was rocking around at about 90. Sitting helped a lot. I was next to a married couple who were teasing each other, and she was in a wonderful T-shirt with Vincent's pic on top and the cityscape at the bottom and the legend "Robert Goren, Detective" at the bottom. Pretty swell!

The photo op itself goes by fast because the Epic people are processing the pictures as fast as they can go. You drop your personal stuff on a table, line up, and one by one the person (or persons, because there are group shoots) gets into the picture with you, the photographer yells "Chin down!" and the picture is done and the next person is summoned.

I broke protocol at this point, just quickly, because the one thing I had wanted so badly to say at the autograph table never came out. I said very quickly "Thank you for Twitter. It's helped me through some bad places in the last few years" and he bent over me a little to hear what I said and then they took the picture and I think he said "thank you" or something because I was brain fried and totally overheated at this point. Picked up my stuff and asked one of the Kingpins, "What now?" and he said come back here and get your picture, and he pointed it out when we got there, already printed out.

And you got checked out to see if you got your photo—and the correct photo—and then it was over.

 

I really would have liked to stay...but I was tired and hungry and ohIhadtomakesure James was okay. I walked out the back of the Marriott instead of going across the bridge to Peachtree Center and taking the back door, which would have gotten me to within a block of the Westin, but I just did homing pigeon. Walked up the hill past the Hyatt and then crossed Peachtree Center and then left across Harris. By that time I was blowing like a racehorse and stopped to catch my breath at the water features in front of a building on Peachtree Street. In about a minute I was able to take in a lungful of air again to trudge on and turn at the Westin to go back to the parking garage.

I will say I am glad we were not in the truck in this garage! It was tiny and if the ramps going up were steep, the ones coming down seemed like they were about at a 45 degree angle! The chair lift would have scraped the ground even without the power chair in it! But yeah, the gate just opened for me and out I went, back on the city streets, and back on the freeway, and then back home, exhausted.

 

I was so happy I cried all the way home.

James held dinner for me; it was about six, and it was a turkey burger which I smothered in the wonderful Meadowcroft Farms sweet onion relish. We split a Ritter peppermint-filled dark chocolate bar for dessert. Bliss.

My day was complete when I posted my photo op on Twitter and once again thanked Vincent D'Onofrio for his posts—they have truly gotten me through many dark things in the past couple of years—and he liked my post.

Well, of course I watched Law & Order: Criminal Intent later on...why do you ask?

—

[Fitbit stats: 13,546 steps, 5.38 miles, 12 floors, 49 active zones, and 62 active minutes. I put on 1000 steps with walking Tucker twice, but at least 12,000 of those steps were between 8:30 p.m. and 5:30 p.m. We don't call it "the DragonCon Exercise Program" for nothing.]

[At least September 1 was better than August 1. I lost Oliver one month ago today. Miss you, baby bird.]