Connecting the Dots: Vancouver, Part 3
Connecting the Dots: Vancouver, Part 3
A Supernatural convention travelogue by Axy @Aaaahhhxy
While we were queueing for SNS, they gave us bracelets and lights… And I was immediately hit by the reference hidden behind tonight’s lights. At Birmingham, it looked like a little glowing whistle, but here, oh, it was the exact same candle light as the one that Jared has on his profile picture on Instagram. *That* one. The one from Comic-Con, the one that had so much importance.
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| Bright lights in a dark world. |
It both felt strange and so, so right to finally have mine, and it paired very well with whatever was in the air during the whole weekend. Also, for reasons I cannot justify, it made me feel briefly closer to my hero. Little did I knew that it was for a very good reason… He was actually there, on the silent part of the story.
Now that I am acquainted with Louden Swain and the beauty of the SNS, I had bought glowing bracelets… And frankly, I looked like a Christmas tree, but isn’t that the very aim of wearing glow sticks? I shared some with my lovely seat neighbors, and braced myself for what I knew would be yet another moment of absolute perfection.
And it was. In so many ways.
First, Louden Swain was in fine form, and Rob’s voice was more beautiful than I’ve ever heard it. They were showcasing the new album, and the new songs are really, really amazing.
Briana destroyed me. She stunned me, and all I could do was just to let the tears fall down my face. Her voice and her emotion are those of a superstar. Celine and Mariah have nothing on her. Not a damn thing.
Ruth was magical. She puts her entire self behind her interpretation, and it was entrancing. Her intention made the whole performance almost… witchy.
Figures.
Kim was… well, Kim. She’s irresistible. And when she jumps everywhere singing No Doubt’s Just a Girl, she gives a soul to the song it didn’t possess beforehand. She gives and she gives and she gives, and she consolidated her new status as queen of everything.
Seeing Matt, Rich and Chris being, as per usual, the definition of “fuck it, how many more things can they do with talent?” was nothing but beautiful. It’s both annoying and a cause for pride… My people are fucking amazingly talented people.
Rob and Jason gave us, unsurprisingly, their perfect rendition of Hallelujah once again, and it is, without a doubt, my favorite version of it. By a mile. I was running out of tissues, but it was nothing but happy tears.
And then Rob introduced “a kid they sometimes allow on stage with them”… And I totally didn’t envision that he’d welcome Jensen that way, so, all in all, I was floored when the handsome Texan invaded the stage with enough energy to carry us all on his shoulders for the evening -- and dude was getting a cold; if that doesn’t speak volumes about his level of commitment, then nothing will. Within seconds, though, we all had a small issue… Because this was not Jensen. It was Dean. And the first song, the aptly named S.O.B., was a blessing. We’d just gotten Dean back on the show, and it felt like it was facilitating the scarring of our Michael wounds. The show embraced the convention and for a few minutes, the frontier between Supernatural and us was nonexistent.
And stayed nonexistent as, at the end of the concert, half of the cast and crew that was backstage went on stage and we ended up all giving those who work their butts off to make the Little Show that Could the standing ovation they deserved. I can’t even remember half of the people who were there, from Jason Fischer to DJ Qualls, to Alaina, to Alex… The very core of everything that’s not J2M was there.
And you know what? Jared was backstage, and so was Jensen, possibly Misha as well, and they didn’t come. They let them have this. They let us have this. They didn’t do anything to overshadow those who make the magic happen, and have been for so long. This is a majestic testimony to who they all are. This moment will be engraved in my soul forever. That’s when Supernatural overflowed through the walls of the Westin Bayshore and for a while, erased every frontier between those who make it and those who love it, and it was the purest, most perfect moment ever.
SNS was one for the books. I floated on a little happy cloud for a while when we walked back home.
And then it hit me in the face with Negan’s bat.
Tomorrow is J2’s day, and I am SO not ready.
***
I slept half an hour that night. Maybe not even half an hour. All things considered, I got more sleep than I expected. Thirty more minutes.
Don’t ask me why I was so stressed. True, it wasn’t my first convention. And truer, it went spectacularly well the first time. And yes, Jared had been about 3 billion times more amazing than my wildest expectations.
But once again, there is no guarantee when you buy your ticket. You’re given interactions, but the rest is a question of alchemy: the addition of your mood, his, luck, location, schedule, level of tiredness on both sides…There are dozens of unexpected and unpredictable elements that can make your little bubble pop, and make you realize that feeling like you were entitled to something special was wrong to begin with.
For me, the only healthy way to look at it was to reset it all.
Make it a second first time.
There were also the concerns linked to the book, and to knowing I was gonna give up those few seconds I loved so much to the last effort of the project. The sacrifice looked enormous, and so was the responsibility.
And, not gonna lie, even if I fought like a lioness for it, the meet-and-greet was always a huge, extremely impressive thing. Half an hour with him will never, ever feel usual, or normal. It is a luxury I love beyond words, one that I would happily sacrifice anything to.
I was hoping I’d pick the same seat as I did at Birmingham, because, clearly, the second row makes it all so much easier to handle. I wasn’t sure I could survive being in the first row, let alone in front of him.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
HA.
HA.
It’s a miracle I didn’t break a finger on our way to get some breakfast because of how hard I was twisting my hands. And of my otherwise delicious meal, I probably ate two bites, tops, too busy nervously pushing my cherry tomatoes around my plate. Trying to eat or drink anything from 9 a.m. on was impossible, as it would literally require untying the colossal knot inside of my stomach, and nothing would. And I mean… Guys, let’s be fucking serious. It’s JUST the gold panel. I’m seven rows from the stage, so the chances of exchanging so much as a look (hahahahahahahaha. ha.) with Jared was, like, below one in a thousand.
This is relatively risk-free.
But can you explain what happens inside of your own brain, soul, heart, and how screwed your hormones are whenever you approach, one way or another, one of your heroes? In this case, we can put all the artists, actors, writers, singers, public persons I’ve loved before TOGETHER, they aren’t even remotely a match for him. Not even close. So, if seeing Misha and Jensen was nuclear, this morning, I was heading straight for a second Big Bang AT BEST.
There was potential to erase the universe and start it anew.
And this is a very good thing, by the way. That I don’t get used to it. That it terrifies me and feels so much bigger than me. And I hope it is never gonna change and I will never feel even remotely “used” to it. Because those emotions are so, so strong, they turn around quite a few things within me, and their energy can fuel me for months.
But as I sat down in the theatre that morning… Yeah, it looked like half the Milky Way was about to crash on my face. My hands were shaking, my body temperature was at the exact point between cold sweats and crazy fever, my legs weren’t exactly able to function properly, and talking was now a struggle.
Well done, Padalecki, you’ve just turned this relatively functional girl into a… mess.
A happy mess. But a mess anyway.
And here starts the vicious yet strangely exhilarating countdown to 10:30…-ish. We actually took bets on the actual hour the panel would start. And I’m always personally invested in those, since the reason why they’re late is ALWAYS the same one. It’s tall, ridiculously handsome and, paradoxically, deeply fascinated by all things watches.
GO FIGURE.
10:32. Almost, but not quite 10:33. MIRACLES HAPPEN, PEOPLE. The first one I saw was Jensen, and then… And then, all of my morning’s anxiety simply disappeared. He has that effect on me. As if all of my panicked cells suddenly understand what is going on, that I’m basically here to spend some time with my favorite human being and one of my other favorite ones, and that the notion of « heaven on Earth » invades my entire self until all you can find is peace, joy and a sheer amount of untainted love.
They look tired, Jensen’s not feeling too good, but they’re here, and they’re willing to be here, and they want to spend that Sunday with us, and my brain doesn’t know anything better than this immediate feeling they’re sharing -- that they’re working, but they really, really want this.
Then, they can recite me the weather forecast for half an hour… I don’t give a damn. It’s just a happy way to start the day, and it always feels so intimate, it justifies the price of the gold pass a thousand times. Gold panels are magical for that. Because it’s out of the structure of the convention. It’s free, they pick whoever the fuck they want to pick, and they play with us, and once again, the lines between who they are and who we are are getting blurry.
That I accidentally caught Jared’s stare and that he held it? Added bonus.
Made me shiver to my core by its intensity, though.
Sole issue with the gold panel: When it ends, I have to drag my fangirl self to the second floor to face THE thing I always fight so hard for and then say I will never do again because it wrecks me but then by the end of it I am always ready to swear to whoever wants to listen to me THAT THIS IS THE VERY DEFINITION OF HEAVEN AND I WILL FIGHT MY ASS OFF FOR IT AGAIN EVEN IF IT COSTS ME MY SANITY.
Meet and Greet, my friends. On my own pyramid of happiness, this is the absolute top, the one thing that nothing can beat.
The room was about three times smaller than Birmingham’s. This alone sufficed to make my brain go berserk and really concerned. Like WHOA WHAT THE FUCK how on Earth are 20 people plus one supposed to fit in… Oh, OK, it fits. BUT IT IS SUPER SMALL, GUYS. LIKE REALLY SO SMALL. SMALLER WOULD BE A CLOSET. I AM NOT SURE THIS DOES NOT ALREADY QUALIFY AS A CLOSET.
No, seriously, this can’t be it. Can it ?
The lovely guy who’s managing this slowly nods.
WHOA.
OK.
While my ticket gets validated and I’m picking that damn number up to get my seat, I try not to focus to how close the farthest seat is. And pray to get it. I won't survive otherwise. Back row. Back of the back row. Please, Axy, don’t mess this up. Pick a number THAT ALLOWS YOU TO LIVE.
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| 16 sounds like it should be safe... right? |
I breathe an immediate sigh of pure relief.
It should be around the middle of the back row. Thank Chuck. With a trace of confidence gained by the certitude I won’t be too close to the fucking sun, I go around the back row.
And then I swallowed a brick.
Second row is seat one to ten.
ONE TO TEN.
WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT?
So 16 seats me…
HOLY SHIT.
Front row, less than a meter from his seat. The closest seat to his.
IF THIS IS A JOKE, THIS IS NOT FUNNY.
Since no one is around, and we’re still a few minutes from the actual start, I show Jess what mess I’ve gotten myself into.
She laughs.
I don’t.
And then I sat down in goddamn seat number 16, about to spend half an hour so close to Jared Fucking Padalecki I actually brace myself for the evident self-combustion that is going to result.
Around me, a bunch of lovely ladies far more used to this and him than I’ll ever be are sitting down, and contrary to what I thought, instead of drowning into nothingness, they’re helping me, unknowingly. They were the best possible crowd you can get at a meet-and-greet, because they all loved Sam so much, this would be a 80% Sam-focused thing, and that’s exactly what I was hoping for.
AND NOW COMES THE FUN PART.
Waiting. While I do -- and I’m a pile of nerves indeed -- I try to materialize the distance between his -- still empty -- seat and mine. I think we can put two regular kitchen chairs between my seat and his. And I’m not sure the second one would fit. So, please, imagine THE TINY FUCKING SPACE IT TAKES TO PUT TWO FUCKING IKEA CHAIRS BACK TO BACK. That’s it. Me and…
Oh.
Oooooh.
Here we goooooo.
You can almost feel a wave of WHOA when he enters the room AND I WAS NOT EVEN LOOKING AT THE DOOR. And oh, God, it is so much closer than it felt a minute ago. It takes me a minute to raise my eyes to Jared-level and…Yeah, nope, he’s so much prettier than I remembered.
And is really, really, really, really, REALLY close.
Once again, I’m not allowed to tell you what we talked about in there. I can just tell you that he was amazing, he answered something I’ve been dying to know for months, and he was even more lovely and charming and adorable than he was at Birmingham, which didn’t seem possible to me not so long ago, and yet… He was incredible. And I’ve learned so many things and exchanged so many “holy shit, my soul is going to melt” looks, I don’t even know how I was still functioning at the end. Or even alive. But I was… -ish.
Being THIS close to him gave me a perfectly good excuse to observe his oh-so-pretty face in detail. And it is oh, so much prettier up close. He’s… perfect. And perfection is highly subjective, that I know. But for me, he’s the highest definition of beauty. And that’s because however good he looks is a fragment of why I love him so much.
He’s so much more than a pretty… everything. He’s Sam. He’s smart. He’s funny. He’s one of the only humans who gave me the feeling that my emotions weren't a matter of shame, but rather, a matter of pride. Because he exists, I grew up and changed and matured faster than I was meant to. And don't get me started on how he woke up the fighter in me. He’s essential to my world in thousands of ways. He carries something none of the others have.
Strangely enough, I didn’t fangirl that much while I was splitting my brain into one part active listening, one part active looking, and one part “please remember to breathe.” I was just memorizing it all in a way that I can’t quite explain. I just wanted to remember his traits as I have seen them, rather than how television and pictures render them.
To be able to look at him from such a closer point of view made him… so much closer to me in all the other ways. Not just physically. It simplified the complexity of our relationship, because the sometimes unrequited love a fan feels is, I think, among the most dense and deep forms of love. It requires practically nothing to keep going, and when it does get back, it is good beyond reasonable measure. I will never misjudge any form of passion or attachment to any artist, because it takes effort and time and money to keep that afloat and strong. And to be able to have him so close to me for a significant portion of time kind of transitioned my relationship to him to something I didn't think I could get. It made it real, solidly anchored in the present, and not in the future. It was here and now.
He caught my shy stare a few times.
It made him smile.
And instead of melting or shutting down, I smiled back.
And he held it.
This was half an hour of eternity. I am jealous of myself for having lived something so good, and so fulfilling. And I wish I could share with you all what I’ve learned. But them’s the rules, and I cherish this moment far, far too much to jeopardize it any way, shape or form.
Just know that he is so brilliant, the funniest, and the most generous in those moments, and you and I know that he’s brilliant, funny and generous by default. That gives you an idea as to what happens there. One thing I can share, though… I probably raised my hand less than a second before he caught it. This is probably nothing, but it means everything to me.
I had to cry in my best friend’s arms after that, because it was so good, so beautiful, so… nurturing, so fulfilling, so rich and so amazing I had to let the emotions out of my system. For two reasons: first, because if I keep them inside they’re going to hurt me one way or another. And second, to reset it all… Because I was minutes away from J2 ops, and had to regain a trace of focus.
Read Part 4 here.
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