I have a confession to make: I’m a nerd. I know, I know, complete surprise, right? I like computers, comic books, and sci-fi TV. I watch just about everything I can get my hands on and I speak fluent Klingon. Seriously. It’s a real language and I spent a couple of months learning it when I was a kid.
When the blog wasn’t even started yet, I talked Lacy into going to Comic-Con with me last July. Lacy’s kind of a closet nerd, which means she is but won’t admit to it anymore. Now she’s too sexy to be a nerd, in her own mind. She became pretty nerdy in high school because her boyfriend at that time, Frankie Mazzo, was a big sci-fi/fantasy fan. She wore a Star Trek sweatshirt through most of her senior year, and it was exactly like the one Frankie wore that year too.
Couples who dress alike are to be avoided, in my opinion. There’s something a bit off about people who say “We’re a couple, and if you can’t figure that out because we’re holding hands and doing things together, we’re going to make it more obvious by trying to look like clones holding hands and doing things together.” Worse is when they’re a Trek fan couple who dress alike. Lacy and Frankie were bad enough, but go to enough of these conventions and you’ll eventually see a Kirk and Kirkette holding hands, looking like a very kinky episode of the Original Series. Those people should be forced to wear mental health warning labels in four languages, including Klingon.
We had fun at the convention, watching old movies and TV shows, attending interviews, and going to panels. The panels were the most fun because Lacy and I prepared a bunch of questions to ask the guests. A lot of them get the same questions over and over, so we wanted to make sure we asked questions they had never heard before.
We asked Mark Evanier why he was secretly bringing in Rush Limbaugh to voice a very special Garfield cartoon; the Disney panel if Walt was secretly a Nazi, was Goofy patterned after Mussolini; and the cast of The Avengers which one of them was playing Emma Peel. I swear, I thought Evanier was going to explode. Hehehehehe…
The last day of the convention was a Sunday and Lacy had spent Saturday night drinking and dancing a little too hard at various parties. She had a mild hangover the next day and she slept in a bit. When she awoke, I was already dressed and eager to see the last things on our agenda.
“Come on,” I told her. “I don’t want to miss the Women In Comics panel.”
“Lemme alone,” Lacy mumbled. “I’m not going anywhere without a Starbucks double latte in my system.”
“Way ahead of you.” I handed her a cup.
Lacy had gone as a green Orion slave girl to the various parties, and most of her body was still an emerald hue as she greedily grabbed the cup and smiled. “I knew there was a reason I married you.”
“Yuck! Don’t get weird.”
“I think I already was last night,” she said, inhaling the coffee’s aroma. “I was a little drunk.”
“Did you have fun?”
She took a sip. “I think so. I remember this skinny nerd trying to hit on me. I think he was a little drunk too.”
“How many bases did he get to?” I asked, sitting on my own bed.
“None. You know how I get when I’ve had a few Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters.”
“Oh jeez! Where did you get those?”
“The first party I stopped at. After that, things got a little blurry.”
For the uninformed, Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters are a favored drink at sci-fi conventions, based on a drink mentioned in The Hitchhikers’ Guide To The Galaxy. Lacy has a pretty high tolerance to alcohol, but there are certain mixed drinks that affect her metabolism in weird ways. Too many Hurricanes, for example, and she’s a pissy, mean drunk. Enough Gargle Blasters and she’s pretty dangerous. Whoever this guy was, I felt sorry for him already.
“What happened?” I glanced at my watch. Still a little time.
Lacy took a long sip of coffee. “He pissed me off. I told him I was interested in something he said – I can’t remember what it was now – and in response, he said he wanted to knock me up.”
“Yeah, so I pantsed him.”
I giggled. “Pantsed him? Where?”
“In the middle of the dance floor. I managed to get his suspenders off quickly and pulled the pants down. The guy was thin as a rail, so they came down quick. He tripped and fell when I did that, so I grabbed them and ran.”
“His pants.” Lacy took a big gulp of her latte and pointed. “They’re over there in the corner.” Sure enough, sitting in a heap in one corner of the room was a pair of black pants.
“Well, we’d better figure out how to get them back to him,” I said, walking to the corner and picking them up.
“Just leave ‘em there.” Lacy finished her drink. “Let the rude asshole find ‘em on his own. And I thought British people were supposed to be so polite.”
“British?” I started digging through the pockets. “Lacy, what exactly did he say, again?”
“That he would knock me up in the morning. Pissed me off when he said that. Even more so he figured he could wait until the morning to do it to someone as hot as me. He should have been too eager to wait that long.”
I sighed as I pulled out the guy’s wallet. “Lacy, ‘knock you up in the morning’ is a common expression in the United Kingdom. He just meant he would call you this morning.”
“Call me?” She slipped out of bed. “Why would Matt call me this morning? I can’t remember what I asked him.”
“Matt? Was that his name?”
“Yeah. Matt… Something… I can’t remember.”
I opened the wallet and looked at the British driver’s license. I did a double-take and looked at it again, my eyes bulging. My hands started shaking. “Matt Smith?”
“Yeah, that was it.”
“Matt Smith?” I repeated, feeling my heart in my throat.
“Yeah, you said that. Get off that bandwagon.”
I looked at my sister, back at the driver’s license, and then back at my sister. “Lacy, do you know who Matt Smith is?”
“Yeah, he’s the guy I pantsed last night.”
“You pantsed Doctor Who!” I yelled at her.
“No I didn’t. I pantsed Matt Smith.”
“Matt Smith plays the Doctor,” I felt faint and managed to make my way to a nearby chair.
Lacy shook her head. “No he doesn’t. That’s David Tennant. I watched a couple of episodes with you once, remember? Cute guy.”
“That was the previous Doctor. Matt Smith plays the part now.”
“Well that’s pretty stupid,” Lacy said, starting to rub off the green body makeup. “He doesn’t look anything like that Tennant guy. No one’s gonna buy he’s supposed to be the same character.”
I put my head in my hand and shook it. “That’s kind of the point. They change Doctors every so often. I can’t believe you pantsed Doctor Who.”
Lacy stood up and walked toward the bathroom. “Would you stop saying that? I’m gonna take a shower. Be right back.”
Oh God. That was the longest twenty minutes of my life as Lacy washed off the green body makeup. Images of the TARDIS materializing in our hotel room filled my mind. I imagined the Eleventh Doctor walking out, grabbing his trousers and wallet, and leaving me to the tender mercies of the Daleks and the Cybermen he brought along with him. Even worse, I imagined having to turn in my Doctor Who Fan Club card. By the time Lacy came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, I was a nervous wreck.
“So how do we get the wallet back to this Matt guy?” Lacy asked as she started dressing. “I still don’t buy this is supposed to be the same character I saw on those episodes with you.”
“I have no idea what room he’s in, but security will know.” I started walking toward the door.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Lacy said, grabbing my shoulder. “You don’t know jack about dealing with celebrities, do you?”
“I know better than to pull their pants down at a party.”
Lacy tapped the wallet in my hand. “Dummy, you have a wallet: something any normal person needs for his day-to-day life. Celebrity wallets are worth their weight in gold. Trust me. Miley Cyrus paid big bucks to get hers back.”
“You pantsed Miley Cyrus?”
“No. She just left her wallet lying around in her purse while she was on stage somewhere. It’s not my fault her security people can’t spot a fake network intern when they see one.”
“Was Matt with a cute redhead?”
Lacy nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Who’s she supposed to be? Mrs. Who?”
“Karen Gillan. She plays his companion on the show.”
“What happened to the blonde?” Lacy asked. “The one Tennant was with?”
“Rose? She’s gone.”
“Too bad. That Tennant guy is so cute. He should be with a blonde.”
“He’s married to a blonde. The daughter of the Fifth Doctor.”
“Fifth Doctor?” How many of those suckers have there been?”
“Matt’s the eleventh.”
Lacy shook her head. “And this David Tennant was the tenth?”
“And he’s married to the daughter of the man who played the Fifth Doctor?”
“Peter Davison, yes.”
“So you could argue he’s married to his own daughter.”
“Don’t be silly,” I said. “That’s not –”
Lacy smiled. “I need to watch that program more often. That’s one kinky little time machine.”
“I think we should just give Mr. Smith back his pants and his wallet.”
“And I think,” Lacy said, grabbing the wallet from me, “I can get you a real goody to remember from all of this. Leave it to me.”
Before I could protest, Lacy bolted for the door with the wallet. She threw a chair in my way and I tripped over that. By the time I was in the hallway, it was empty. My sister was gone.
I looked and looked for her, but couldn’t find her anywhere. At twelve-thirty there was a Doctor Who panel, and it was the main reason I came to the convention, but I didn’t dare attend it. I imagined Matt Smith standing up on stage, pointing at me, and saying “There’s the woman who had my wallet!” Daleks and Cybermen are one thing; they’re not real. Rabid Who fans are. I’d have never made it to the door.
By four-thirty, I had given up and returned to the hotel room. Lacy and I were planning to leave in the morning, so I started packing. I looked for a long time at my sister’s clothes and considered burning them, but I couldn’t figure out where to do that without tripping a fire alarm. If I’d had some bleach, I’d have poured it all over her stuff, including the Star Trek: The Next Generation 25th Anniversary print she’d picked up. I was that mad.
About five o’ clock, Lacy walked back into the room, bold as you please. “Hi, sis,” she said, grinning.
“Where the hell have you been?” I snapped, running up to her and getting into her face. “I’ve looked everywhere for you.”
Lacy shrugged. “I was with Matt and Karen. They’re pretty cool people.”
“With Matt… ”
“… and Karen,” she finished for me.
“They didn’t have you arrested? I would have.”
“Nah.” Lacy sat on her bed. “I explained the whole thing. Matt laughed about it.”
“Oh, thank God,” I sighed, sitting on my own bed. “What have you been doing with them all this time?”
“We had a late lunch. We spent time with some guy named Arthur.”
“Arthur Darvill?” I asked in a squeaky voice.
“Yeah, him. Anyway, we –”
“You had lunch with the stars of Doctor Who?”
Lacy smirked. “You are such a sci-fi nerd, you know that? You give me a hard time about Miley Cyrus, but mention I had lunch with some fantasy show actors and you act like a starstruck kid.”
“Lacy, I’d have given my eyeteeth to have lunch with those people!”
“Yeah, well, we tried to find you but you weren’t here and I couldn’t get you on your cell phone. I think it died.”
I looked glumly at the floor. “Swell. I get screwed over again, while you come up smelling like a rose. Again.”
“Hey, that reminds me,” Lacy said. “Matt wanted me to give you this.” She reached around her neck and pulled out a long, polka-dotted slip of material.
“What is it?”
“Well, I remembered what it was Matt told me last night. He told me he was connected with Doctor Who and I asked him if he had a souvenir for my sister. He was going to give me an autograph last night, but after I returned his wallet, he gave me this. It’s one of the ties Matt wore on the show. He said you’d probably like this more.” Smiling, Lacy handed me the tie.
“They showed some clips at the panel, by the way. I may just have to watch that thing now. It’s pretty cool.”
I looked in awe at the tie in my hands, examining it closely. “Oh my God, they all autographed it.”
“Yeah, them and that Steven guy they were with.”
“Yeah. The producer.”
“I know who Steven Moffat is. Lacy, do you know how much this thing is worth?”
She smiled. “To the world at large? Or to my sister?”
I jumped up and hugged her. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“I told you a celebrity’s wallet is worth its weight in gold. Especially to the celebrity.”
I pulled away. “You’re pretty wonderful, you know that?”
She smiled. “Yeah, I know. You even got a bonus.”
I looked at her oddly as I started putting the tie around my own neck. “What’s that?”
“Matt was so happy to get the wallet back, he forgot about the other thing I took.”
“You mean –”
Lacy smiled. “There may be three or four people who have a tie like that, but only you have Matt Smith’s pants!”