It was the end of the day, and my blood sugar was dangerously low. Colors and sounds were louder than they should have been. My feet and legs had been replaced by two dull, throbbing stumps that barely supported the weight of my body.
Most of the day, I’d been signing autographs for and talking with countless excited fans. Some of them shook my hand too hard and too long with a sweaty grip that trembled a little too much. Some of them stared at me uncomfortably. Some of them rambled incoherently. All of them were genuinely friendly, though.
I took it all in stride, because I’ve done this convention thing for — my god — two decades, and even though I don’t think I’m anything worth getting excited about, I know that it happens sometimes, and I know how people occasionally react. I never laugh at them or make them feel lame. I never make jokes at their expense. I am understanding and grateful that they want to talk to me at all. I wouldn’t want to talk to me if I was trapped with me in an elevator, and I certainly wouldn’t be excited about the prospect if faced with the option. I am always grateful, and take nothing for granted.
A voice boomed over my head, blasting right through my eardrums and exploding inside my skull. The convention floor was closing, it announced, and it was time for all of us to get the fuck out.
Red-jacketed security guards emerged from shadows I hadn’t noticed during the day. A handful at first, then a dozen, like zombies pouring through a breach in a barricade. They shambled forward relentlessly, single-mindedly driving a mass of exhibitors and straggling fans toward the doors.
I picked up my backpack, inexplicably heavier than it was before I emptied pounds of books from it earlier in the day, and heaved it onto my shoulders. My back screamed.
“You have to vacate the hall,” a girl said to me. She couldn’t have been older than eighteen, but clearly wasn’t going to take any shit from anyone, especially someone in my weakened state.
“I’m on my way,” I said. I turned to say goodbye to my boothmates, and saw the unmistakable visage of Jeph Jacques walk past behind them.
I’ve done this convention thing for a long time, so I knew that it was unlikely that I’d have a chance to say more than three words to Jeph before the convention was over. If I didn’t seize the moment, I probably wouldn’t get another chance. I smiled at the girl, faked to my right, and spun to my left around her. I nearly fell over from the effort.
“Hey . . .” she began. I took two quick steps away from her with my last bits of strength.
“Jeph!” I called out. He kept walking. He’s done this convention thing before, and, like me, knows that when someone calls out your name at the end of the day it’s best to pretend you didn’t hear them so you can just get the hell out of the hall and to a place where you can recover your hit points. This place is usually called a bar.
“Jeph! It’s Wil Wheaton!” I called out. I don’t know Jeph well enough to call him a friend, but we’ve talked at shows before, and I’ve always enjoyed our limited interactions. Maybe if he knew it was me, and not some random person, he’d stop so I could say hello. Maybe he wouldn’t want to talk to me if we were trapped in an elevator, but I knew the security guards were closing in, and if I could get into his Circle of Protection: Exhibitor, maybe I could stay there for a couple of minutes.
He stopped and turned around. He smiled wearily, and said hello. We shook hands, and I noticed that he’d been walking with someone.
“Hey, have you ever met Randall?” He said.
His companion turned to me and extended his hand. My brain screamed at me, “OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD THAT’S RANDALL MUNROE! BE COOL!”
Before I knew what was happening, my hand shot out from my body and grabbed his. I incoherently babbled something about how much I love his work. He tried to say something, but I just. kept. talking.
My brain screamed at me, “SHUT UP! YOU’RE MAKING A FOOL OF YOURSELF YOU ASSHOLE!”
My mouth, however, was out of my control. I continued to ramble, vomiting a turgid cascade of genuinely-excited praise and gratitude all over him.
A full minute later, I realized, to my abject horror, that my hand was still shaking his. I held it too hard in a sweaty, trembling hand. Darkness flashed at the edges of my vision, and I felt weak. I pulled my hand back, a little too quickly, mumbled an apology, and shut my mouth.
They said things to me, but I couldn’t hear them over my own brain screaming at me, “GET OUT OF THERE YOU COCKASS. YOU HAD ONE CHANCE TO MEET RANDALL MUNROE AND YOU BLEW IT! I HATE YOU! YOU GO TO HELL NOW! YOU GO TO HELL AND YOU DIE!”
A hand fell on my shoulder. I turned toward it, and saw the security girl.
“Sir, you need to leave the hall.” She said. “Now.” She had backup: a pair of similarly-aged teens, two boys working on their first mustaches. They fixed me with a steely-eyed gazes.
I have never been so relieved to be kicked out of anyplace in the world as I was then.
“I guess I better go,” I said. I took a short breath, and lamely added, “it’s really nice to meet you. I really do love your work.”
My brain did the slow clap.
His reply did not penetrate the wall of shame I’d constructed around myself, though I clearly recall that he didn’t make fun of me, or make me feel stupid, or let on that I was a sweaty, shaking, raving lunatic. He didn’t appear to be grateful that we weren’t trapped in an elevator, though I suspect he must have been. As I fled the hall, I was grateful for his kindness, patience, and understanding.
Once outside, I went to a place where I could forget my appalling embarrassment.
That place was called a bar.
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Argh! Well, sometimes I guess we just need a good reminder not to take ourselves too seriously.
I had a similar internal dialogue when I met Brent Spiner last year. I remember blurting out, “I remember you from Night Court!” He kind of smiled and said, “Oh, really? Wow.” Then made a comment about my Forbidden Planet t-shirt.
I had a similar internal dialogue when I met Brent Spiner last year. I remember blurting out, “I remember you from Night Court!” He kind of smiled and said, “Oh, really? Wow.” Then made a comment about my Forbidden Planet t-shirt.
Another good read. Thanks!
2002, feb 24th. Orlando Fl. My birthday.
My Wife, 4month old daughter and myself go to a large local convention.
I have to pee.
In the batheroom, at the stall next to me is the biggest guest of the con.
Kevin Effing Smith
(the director, not the football player)
Wizzing right next to me.
No idea what I was thinking… I looked at him and said, “Man, I love your movies” then, regaining my self I said.. “um… Enjoy you’re piss”
At least he laughed..even if it was an uneasy “please don’t kill me” sort of laugh.
Now, even to this day, when some one mentions Kevin Smith, one of my buddies will say “Hey, aren’t you cats Pissbuddies or something?”
That’s us, Pissbuddies.
I honestly don’t know what the big deal is. Randall makes a shitty one-note comic that could be drawn by a 5-year old. He does have one funny joke, but has milked it for months at this point. He’s nobody any of us should be idolizing.
Many years ago while working at Egghead Software, this guy came into the store and was looking at music software for the Mac. Being a musician myself I chatted with him, explaining the various programs, asking what he wanted to do and helping him decide on what to get.
Later while working the register (we all took turns), he brings up the program we talked about and hands me his credit card. I looked at it and froze with my jaw on the floor. His card said, “Thomas Dolby Robertson”. I was like, “Um, is this, I mean, um, really?” He said, “Yes, that’s really me.”
I smacked my head with my hand laughing as I said, “And here I was telling YOU about computer music software!”
He was cool about it and even gave me two free tickets to the show. That night he was EXTRA cool when he saw me sitting close to the stage and said, “Hi Rich! Glad you could make it.”
Now you know how I felt meeting you at SuperCon in San Jose. Gotta say though you handled it extremely well. W00t
I’ve done this a few times myself, TWICE at Comicon – once with Joss Whedon where i said “wow, you look hot” in an attempt to say that he looked … you know .. warm.. except that he totally took it wrong and thought i was saying the he was hot as in flirting… I also made an ass of myself back in January at the Phoenix Comicon with… well you lol!
Curlyfries, if you don’t get XKCD, no one can explain it to you. (And if you do get it, no one needs to explain it to you…)
This is why I never open my mouth when famous is near. If ever you see a female standing about 25 feet from you, staring like a stalker? That’d be me. LoL
hilarious story Wil!
Dude, I would totally talk to you if we were stuck in an elevator together. Not to worry there.
My failed save was meeting someone I admired and played it too cool, coming off like a total jerk that didn’t care. That’s worse than being enthused and excited. Trust me on this.
Nicely written, as always. Thanks for sharing this with us.
Haha, oh man. The only thing funnier than watching you meet Randy was when I finally met YOU in person at Emerald City and we both fanboyed out at each other simultaneously.
Jeph: HUH
Wil: DUH
Jeph: BUH
Wil: GUH
Oh, also! I don’t ignore people who yell my name- I have hella hearing loss from rock music and Medical Issues, so I just didn’t hear you the first time!
It’s like a tri-force perfecta to me- Wil Weaton, Jeph Jacques, and Randall Munroe all meeting as one mind. I can’t even begin to tell you how much it excited me when I read through random posts that you are all fans of each other’s work…. And me, being from Massachusetts, actually could potentially meet Jeph and Randall seemingly whenever, yet I’ve only managed to meet you thus far!! What is wrong with me?!
Oh yeah… and to make you feel better about your blundered meeting… when I lived in NYC I met Ric Ocasek at a Ted Leo show… and subsequently told him, “My mommy used to play your music in the car!” To which he nodded and smiled, replying, “That’s nice…”
Wil, it was lovely to meet you and I was just as nervous as you were. And you didn’t come across awkward. Lucky for me, you seem not to have noticed that I totally didn’t manage to say anything coherent either.
What say we try this again, but with strong drinks this time? My treat.
http://vark.blogspot.com/2007_10_01_archive.html
That’s me with Randall. We both managed to not geek out, although I drove 6 hours to see him because he’s my best friend… cept for Wil. I used to hang at teh soapbox, then the xkcd forum, now mostly the chans and some blogs.
Oh and Sean Astin was very cool at GenCon, and I hung out with Alan Ginzberg a few times back in the day.
G’day Wil, I’m a long-time lurker, first-time commenter. Reading today’s blog made me nearly fucking wet myself! It was THAT funny. It reminds me of the time I went to a book signing in Melbourne by David Gemmell and all I could say was “Legend is my favourite book”. Anyway, love your work and remember, occasionally we’re all dicks!
I was so afraid of sounding like a bumbling dolt when I met Wil at PAX last year that I didn’t talk and didn’t even smile. Thankfully my husband was with me and handled the talking part, and all I had to do was hold out my shiny gold rocks in exchange for a book.
The difference is that I’ve had a crush on Wil since I was 10 and watching TNG, whereas my husband said “oh, that’s that guy who writes that blog you read?” So it was a little easier for him to make normal small talk.
Nice, Jonathan. I don’t like it because I don’t get it. I understand it just fine – I work in the computer industry for christsake. I just think it’s puerile and unfunny.
Hi, Wil!
Did you receive my email inviting you to Xanadu Las Vegas in April? It would be another great opportunity to receive sweaty, trembling handshakes 🙂 — and sell your books!
If there is a better way to contact you than your published email address, please let me know. You can reach me at [email protected].
Thanks!
It can be hard to stay cool – especially when you’re surprised like that. Two years ago, at YearlyKos, I went into the exhibitor’s room to buy a copy of Joe Wilson’s book – only to find out that they had him sitting right there, signing – with no line. So, with zero notice, I find myself trying to express my meager thoughts to Valerie Plame’s husband. . .
Yup, total critical failure. But now I look back and laugh – what else can you do?
Here’s something top balance out the critical save fail – a just released animated ST:TOS parody.
Click on “Don’t Deport Me Scotty” at
http://www.badmonkeystudios.com
Seriously.
No matter how cool you are, there is always someone cooler. And 99% of the time, they aren’t really any cooler than you, but you THINK they are, which actually kind of makes them cooler in itself.
Wait – what? Now I’ve confused myself again.
My dear Wil, I beg you to believe me when I tell you that he was so really great, he would have asked you to pick him up and go to the park with him.
I met Margot Kidder at this year’s LFCC, and went through something very similar to yourself. Luckily, Ms Kidder was nothing but nice, and put up with my fansquee.
Good to know you’re a hopeless fan too, Wil.
Even stars get star struck. I remember being at the Walk Of Fame in the summer of 89′, and my brother and I were comparing “The Duke’s” shoe size with our own, it was just massive compared to my 9 1/2, and some guys walked up to us “Hey Guys, wanna be on Win Lose Or Draw!?” and I was like, “DUDE…watch out, you’re stepping on the Duke!” I looked up and it was Burt Reynolds, Dom Delouise, and Lonnie Anderson. Now that was funny…I shook their hands, had a pretty good laugh, then had to confess I really wasn’t a fan of the show, and I wouldn’t mind attending if Patrick Stewart was gonna be there. I was only 18….
Hey Wil, Scalzi just won the Hugo…
Watching live coverage here: http://www.cheryl-morgan.com/?p=1570
As an aside – I once walked smack into Patrick Stewart in the west end in London. He was head down, heading for the theatre at a huge speed, we each apologised and walked on… then I had the ‘hang on a second….’ moment – by which time he had vanished. I had my camera in my bag. I’d have loved a photo.
Ah well – the man was obviously wanting to get into his play, and it would have been rude anyway.
Paul Merton (UK comedian) was someone I met in a bookshop. He was doing a book signing about 15 years ago now – I had a nice chat with him, my now-wife stood there, jaw open, going hummana hummana…. I’ve also met Hislop, he was a nice chap. Very down to earth. Again, no photo from either.
Mark Little was a great guy (he’s an Australian comedian). We saw him in Manchester, and afterwards went for a drink. He came into the bar. We thanked him for a great show, he said ‘ah, I remember you, on the left, near the front…’ Well done, that man. No photo.
Leonard Nimoy was a brief encounter. Booksigning. Huge queue. No photo.
James May (Captain Slow from Top Gear) was very cool though. Another huge book signing queue, but he was taking his time and talking to people. He had a cold at the time – but soldiered on. I have a nice photo of this meeting though.
The trouble is that ‘famous’ people get so many requests on their time from strangers, it must be tricky for them to make new acquaintances in the usual way – which is unfortunate. It must be quite awkward when single and dating…. and knowing this, how does one say ‘hello’ without appearing like just another fanboy idiot? Without saying something that’s been said thousands of times before?
However, I do enjoy seeing that you get that awkward feeling too …
If you ever come to the South of the UK, Wil – and if I ever run into you when you do – I’ll unsuccessfully try to avoid the usual conversation “hehe, you’re that guy from Star Trek”… but a photo of that meet would be nice!
here’s an hour talk with randall, moot, and ryan north.
http://www.archive.org/details/RespectablyFrench.ROFLCon.Internet_Cult_Leader
I’m just curious if you geohash, Wil. Or anyone else?
The post got me to google Randall’s name (and I went, ah! xkcd!) which pointed me to geohashing, and resulted in me getting involved. Curse you, Wil Wheaton, for getting me doing more cool things! 😛
You are way too hard on yourself Wil. Calm down and take a deep breath. I am sure if I ever met you I would do the exact same thing though. 🙂
Aw, Wil. This is why we love you. In, uh, a totally non-sweaty way, of course!
Wil,
Just found your Blog. I have known about it for quite sometime, but life being hectic I just now got around to view it. I am a person that would enjoy meeting celebs. I have not met many and when I do meet them I try to treat them as any other normal human being with no regard to status. Maybe someday I hope to meet you and not be a blathering idiot. Great writing.
The Poet Palmpooh
I love your writing. You always stick us right there in the scene with you.
And I hope your Guinness helped to ease your pain 🙂
Methinks you probably handled the situation better than me. When it comes to performing artists I’ve got it all down pat – I’m a friggin’ stagehand for Christ’s sake. But I’m not sure how to deal with webcomic artists, especially ones I admire heavily. If I ran into Randall Munroe it would be something like me stuttering for ten minutes while he tried to get an out, desperately, from the creepy girl with the glasses.
IF I was lucky my brain would fire in the right direction and I would say something like “I apologize for taking up your time, let me go over here and stop sucking.” More than likely, however, I would blurt out something like “CAN I MAKE EVIL ROBOT NERD BABIEZ WITH YOU?”
>.< This is why I don't go to cons. (And it's also why I keep missing your engagements, even though I live in NEVADA, which is...you know...right next to you.)
I’ll be surprised if you make it all the way down to this comment, but I just wanted to let you know that it’s posts like these that make us fans feel more at ease meeting you. I had the same voice screaming at me in my head when I met you at ECCC, but your reassurances that you’ve been there too helped, as well as the bar I went to afterwards (though it was a coffee bar, since it was still afternoon and I had to drive myself home)
I felt similar when I gave you the squadron coins at the Emerald City Comicon. I wanted to ask you for an autograph and show you my geek “Houses and Humans” shirt, but also didn’t want to make the other fans in line behind me wait any longer than they had to.
As a hypoglycemic let me extend my empathy to you and your situation and tell you that it could have been much, much worse. (alas, I know this from experience)
And as awesome as Jeph and Randall are, I’m pretty sure (being who they are) they already think you’re pretty awesome, too.
Wil – I think you underestimate the impact your writing has – even amongst your peers. You have a style that’s all your own – signature Wil – and it’s delightful, funny and brilliant. But you also come across as a regular guy, which makes you seem approachable.
Approachable or not, I still acted like an idiot when we met, and I hope my embarrasing display of admiration has been forgiven.
If it makes you feel any better, this is exactly how I felt when Mojo introduced me to you in the lobby outside the main theater on Saturday.
I think I tried to play it cool, but somehow I get the impression I failed.