Thursday night, July 18, 2013
I stumbled into the lobby of the Hilton San Diego Bayfront Hotel in San Diego, but not out of being drunk. Not in the alcoholic sense. Whatever kind of drunk you can get from your first day at your first Comic Con, this was what I was on.
It took me long enough to take in the regular spectacle, before I actually got to attend my first panel. In fact, it was the last one for "Dexter" to honor its ongoing final season. As if that wasn't enough when it was over, I got my way through a crowd of autograph seekers and got a signature from "Dexter" femme fatale Yvonne Strahovski.
I spent the first minute in my lobby chair studying that signature, then the next few going over all my other new memorabilia. I went back to the autograph as I heard someone walking nearby, then heard someone plop into the chair next to me.
I turned my head to give a courtesy look at whoever was next to me. Then I gave another look after the first one seemed too ludicrous to believe.
"Are you in a costume?" I blurted out before I knew better. Then again, if I didn't know better, I would swear that Yvonne Strahovski was sitting next to me. It was far more likely that one of the female Comic Con nerds was dressing as her for the day – though I probably would have seen her at or near the Dexter panel.
This woman had on the exact same polka dot white dress Yvonne had at the panel. So maybe this was a mega fan with creepy, suspicious accuracy in her costume. Then again, Yvonne didn't have a signature costume to impersonate on "Chuck" or "Dexter" – unless the Weinerlicious outfit on Chuck and the saran wrap on that one Dexter counted. Sadly, this woman had none of those on.
"Not today," the woman commented, interrupting my analysis. But the fact that she spoke in an Australian accent – one Yvonne never used on TV, and one I had heard quite recently on the panel – gave me much more to go on.
When it all finally dawned on me, I narrowly kept myself from gasping. I'd already embarrassed myself enough. "Oh God, of course, duh," I said anyway. "I just saw you, so why would...."
"You....oh, right, you did!" the woman who really was Yvonne Strathovski realized, actually remembering me and actually smiling.
"Yeah. Hello again....Yvonne," I paused before looking at her autograph, pretending to need it to remember her name. Even without that, the blond hair, piercing blue eyes, big smile, long, crossed legs and silky accent should have been the final giveaways. But she kept her big smile on as I introduced myself, nonetheless.
With that out of the way, I actually took in how she was relaxing after a long day at Comic Con, just like me. "Exhausted? I thought you were a veteran around here," I pointed out casually, if not more casually than I probably should have.
"Yes, but it's still overwhelming each time. No matter what fan base you talk to," Yvonne noted.
"As a first timer who's never been on a panel before, I can only imagine," I explained.
"First time? You're a Comic Con virgin?" Yvonne nearly made me choke on air.
When I recovered, I went on autopilot to add, "That sounds about right. You could say I popped my Comic Con cherry on your panel," I did say. I figured I'd go on until she slapped me, but she kept looking amused instead. I wouldn't go so far as to say I wasn't a Comic Con virgin like.....some virgins at this convention, though – but I was thinking it.
"Well, from one veteran to a newcomer, I'm honored to take your v-card. That's the right way to say it here, right?" Yvonne checked. It was the right way in a bunch of ways.
"Just about. It's even better with a toast, though," I was emboldened enough to offer. "Let me go get the glasses and drinks from the hotel bar."
I really was on autopilot, or something else where I was out of my mind. Tempting my good first day fortune with the comic gods – and the other gods in town – like this was bound to end badly. Yet Yvonne still didn't slap or chide me, so I took her order, got us both drinks at the bar, and came back with the necessary tools for a toast.
"A toast to Comic Con. You never forget your first," Yvonne stated. I brushed aside how she kept harping on that, and toasted her as instructed.
"Here here. And don't worry. Other fans might shoot for the moon and ask for stuff they've only fantasized about, but not me," I assured. I added just enough of a leer to make her think I meant....something physical. Obviously, it was a convincing leer, considering who I was leering at.
But it was only for a second, just to give her the idea. Then before she really could think about slapping me, I added, "You guys gave enough teasers at the panel anyway. Not really, but I can handle the suspense for 10 more weeks."
Yvonne unsettlingly paused for a second, then seemed to roll her eyes comically while holding back a laugh. Still, she stuck around and took a sip, so I took one from my drink. Now that I'd joked about vague sexual stuff and got it out of the way, it wouldn't be a problem the rest of the night. Whether it was one beforehand or not.
Yvonne did say some stuff about the very last days of shooting on Dexter – which at most, was a hint that her murderous character would play some part in the finish. I filed that away as scoop, but by the time I came back with our second drinks, I got to asking about her own first time at Comic Con, when they screened the "Chuck" pilot in summer 2007.
"Well, that was a blast. Eventually," Yvonne started. "I mean, before the screening, it was all just nerves and panic, really. First big acting job I'd ever done, first time screening it for an audience....not the easiest thing to look forward to. I had to use some tricks to calm myself down, but when it was over....I used them to celebrate. Even got someone to help me out."
What kind of tricks worked like that? What kind other than the ones I couldn't think about around her? "Tricks, huh?" I asked, just to move the conversation along.
"You know, it's unfair what they say about this place just having geeky virgins," Yvonne carried on. "There are some hot, virile 'nerds' all around here every year. They don't even need slave costumes from 30 years ago!" Now that made my head play too many visual tricks on me.
As I shook them off, I heard Yvonne continue, "This really is a whole new world for new people. It can be overwhelming at first, but once you....relax and enjoy it, the rest is easy. I know what I'm talking about. I'm sure you will too."
That would be a change of pace. And a few other things, if this was going....a certain way that seemed less and less outlandish. "I mean, you've been telling me you want to all night," she went on. "This is your first time, and who know if I'll get another show or movie by next year. Sounds like a fitting way to pass the torch."
Funny choice of words, since the torch was getting too hot for me to handle. I figured I'd have to handle it myself as soon as I got back to my room. But if she was offering to make it a two person job....
She wasn't, right?
But then she dropped her hand on my chair – on my leg, more specifically – and filled in the blanks with a penetrating, sultry glare on her gorgeous face. There was my answer.
When I found my breath again, I asked, "Where do you want to give it to me? The torch," I caught myself at the end.
"We can try not to burn down your room first," she answered. She was trying to be clever, although I hoped she wasn't just being drunk. Two drinks shouldn't have made her impaired, yet the offer suggested evidence to the contrary.
If Yvonne didn't stumble or slur on the way up to my room, I figured I could do this guilt free. So I got up and had her walk side by side with me to the elevator, then got in and sent it to my floor. And as we walked to my room door, I didn't see her sway or drunkenly giggle once.
Yet when we crossed the threshold and entered my new room, I felt one final need to get the gentlemanly stuff out of the way. "You're sure you're up for it? You're not still exhausted from today?" I checked.
"Not yet," Yvonne said suggestively.
With her back turned to me, I let my eyes trail up her sleek legs, gaze at the perky outline of her ass, and stop at the shoulders covered up by her dress straps. This inspired me to say, "Let me just make completely sure," as a segway.